When I was pregnant I spent an inordinate amount of time obsessing about what to pack in my hospital bag.
Should I take two pairs of pyjamas or three? What colour? What about when people come to visit, do I need a cardigan? Should I take books, an Ipad? Maybe a spare charger? Do I need towels? (Well those hospital ones can be awful. Maybe just a light one.)
Slippers and socks? Other shoes? A camera? Note paper and pen? A hairdryer was packed and hand lotion, travel sized shampoos and nail scissors.
I engaged in conversations about it on Facebook and spent lunch hours from work looking for just the right hold-all. I found it a bright pink leather carry bag with lined straps so your fingers were cushioned when you carried it. It was just the right size and stood alert, ready and packed by the front door. Waiting for baby.
When the big event happened the bag was right beside me all the way, from the car to the delivery suite there it sat in all its pink-ness.
After the birth I was transferred to a room and a kind nurse carried my bag that she then placed in the cupboard in the room.
Where it stayed – basically – except when I grabbed a fresh pair of knickers - for three days till I went home.
All that time planning and obsessing, plotting and packing were, in retrospect, a waste – hours that I could have spent obsessing about other things. ( Like feeding chairs..)