Sunday, February 8th, 2026

The waistband hasn’t buttoned up for months. And now, even weaving an elastic band around the button and through the loop doesn’t hold. The fly remains all the way down.

It’s not that I’ve resisted buying maternity jeans per se. I don’t harbour any sensitivity to growing bigger in size and clothes are meant to fit my body, not the other way around. It’s just that I prefer using what I’ve already got. And it really does pain me that my closetful of sun dresses is so suited to this growing belly, yet I am pregnant in the dead of winter. Leggings simply weren’t heavy enough to withstand the polar vortex. So I began shopping around.

Maternity jeans retail for around $60, an average accounting for the highs and lows of pairs on sale and those at a higher price point (Paige denim comes in at a cool $279 for their Sofia Maternity style). As a rabid believer in “cost per wear”, it wasn’t sitting right to spend this money on something I would wear for roughly three months, or at this point in my resistance, closer to two. I chose to thrift.

* * *

There were officially two weeks left on my apartment lease. We hired movers to get us from the home of my twenties into the home where our baby would be born. And now the apartment was an echoey, hollowed out shell. I imagined filling it up with a garage sale where I would use this empty space to sell some of the goodies that I still loved, but belonged to my old life and needed a new life of their own. I had a couple of garment racks and a table for books. I would make tea for the attendees! But, as the invitation was posted and the response was more hushed than the winter’s snow, I was forced to ask a most dreaded question: Would you all prefer if this was online?

Yes. In fact, they would! So I begrudgingly joined the modern age in which we exist and booted up my Facebook (ironically a relic of my past) to build a page on Marketplace. A few listings later, I was off to the races and replying to the endless stream of “Is this still available?” Yes, it is available. “Where are you located?” Read the listing…I mean, King and Bathurst. I made some sales and got particular attention on a red gingham dress that I clearly priced too low. A few photography clients found me on there via Instagram and scooped up some of my most beloved pieces which made the farewells that much easier. And joy of joys, I was having fun! Turns out, it feels a lot more satisfying in our age of consumerism to watch your belongings walk off in the arms of another than to see them plummet to the bottom of a dumpster, sad and landfill-bound.

Standing in our new bedroom, I got to work hanging up the aforementioned sun dresses in one of our three closets. I occupy one, Taylor occupies the other and the third lives adjacent to the front door for our coats. Pretty soon it was clear that we needed more storage, especially considering we will be adding another member who may be small, but requires drawers for diapers and bodysuits and blankets. It began with a three-drawer IKEA dresser in a discontinued butter yellow. I matched the seller’s asking price and the next day, Taylor and I set off in a snowstorm to pick it up. In advance, our kind seller had asked her upstairs neighbour to put on his boots and emerge into the blizzard to help us load it into the car. Covered in flakes, we all waved goodbye and they wished us well with our baby.

The next day, I fetched a vintage wooden high-chair from the east end for $10 and bought a matcha latte afterwards for almost $7.

After a few unsuccessful interactions, we found a wooden dresser in Vaughan that will double as a changing table in lieu of a nursery. Tony met us in his garage, bundled in a winter coat, somewhat shocked that we had actually showed up. Apparently, he has experienced quite a few unexplained cancellations: the modern lapse in communication and respect known as ghosting. We thanked him for his time. Tony had taken all the drawers out to make it easier to lift and then helped us put all the drawers back IN once we realized that would be necessary to transport. He asked me about my due date and reminded me to take it easy. I was not to lift anything!! Hands in his pockets, he bid us farewell and I wished for him no more cancellations.

We found a kitchen console in Mississauga and it was brought downstairs by a mother and her young daughter. They managed to find us parked at the wrong entrance and waved it off with a chuckle. The daughter was quiet but helpful and gave me a self-conscious smile when I thanked her.

I knew I liked Jayne from her listing, but it was confirmed when we stepped into her gorgeous north-Toronto home boasting the sounds of Phil Collins. She had the arm chair in the hallway ready for me to try (“You HAVE to sit in this!”) and showed us that the original upholstery still exists if we prefer that to the French brocade slip cover she and her husband chose. Alas, their taste is fabulous and the slip cover ideal. She took my phone number after learning that I photograph families, in case she wants to set up a photo shoot for her grandchildren. And with a smile, she wished us fun as new parents, in what will be “the best time” of our lives.

I sold a floral dress to a woman who told me that she liked my listings and that I have “great taste”. I met up with another outside of the subway station who later sent me a message to thank me and tell me that I am really pretty.

The H&M maternity jeans were listed for $40, then discounted to $35. Classic blue wash and not in a SKINNY style, but a timeless straight leg. I can’t condone a skinny jean under normal circumstances, but certainly not underneath the gigantic ball of belly. I messaged the seller asking if she would accept $20. I don’t shy away from a good negotiation and in this case, she was firm on the price. She countered that they were barely worn and originally $65. I told her I completely understood and would take a couple days to mull it over. Well, a couple of days later, I woke up to a message from Marketplace:

“Hi Hilary. I’ve thought about it and I would rather someone enjoy these jeans. I will accept anything from $20-$35, let me know.”

I cried and turned on the kettle for tea and picked them up later that day with $25 cash. Her address, apartment number 1177, matched the current weight of my baby girl at 1177 grams.

I tried them on back at home and cried again. My first and only pair of maternity jeans on a rapidly changing body. And now in my brocade chair, cup of tea resting precariously on the arm, I am writing this in my jeans that still have plenty of room for two months of miraculous growth.

I am not going to blame this outpouring of emotion on pregnancy hormones. I am very emotional, yes, but I always have been and human kindness has a way of drawing out tears in a way that even sadness can’t match. Simply put, it moves me. And this series of interactions, this collection of people have helped us fill this new house and make it a home in time for our spring girl. This period of nesting has occurred entirely during unrest in the world at large and it is often uncanny to be building a safe haven in a world that is deeply unsafe. There seems to be no end to it, but when I focus smaller, I see hope. I see Tony with his hands in his pockets and I see Jayne dancing to Phil Collins. I see a neighbour covered in snow. And I see girls telling each other they look pretty.

I thought it was a small failure that my garage sale fizzled out. A good idea that simply didn’t resonate. I still think it would have been FUN (maybe I just want to make tea for someone?), but the blessing can now be seen and I am grateful to have joined this online community of small, loving commerce. After I save this writing file, I will lint roll the chaise that is getting picked up later tonight. I will find the kettle on the kitchen console and get it boiling for an herbal tea. And I will lay my jeans to rest in the butter yellow dresser for another day of answering the great question of our time, Is this still available?