So the baby grows until it reaches intra-uterine maturity, and comes into our arms for cherishing. Pity, pity the little one that comes with no love to receive it, and pity more the mother of such a child. No woman has a right to marry, unless she desires offspring and is willing to fit herself for maternity. No man has a right to take upon himself the sacred vows that make him husband, unless he comprehends all that it means, and is measurably ready to meet its duties and responsibilities. With such preparation, and such understanding upon entering matrimony, we should see a nobler, stronger race of men and women in the coming generations. CHAPTER XIV. BABY’S WARDROBE. The Question That Comes with Fluttering Signs of Life.—Importance of Wise Choice of Material and Style of Dress.—The Blessedness of Mother’s Joy in Preparing Baby’s Clothing.—The Questions of Dress Important.—Formerly Seemingly Planned for Discomfort.—The “Binder” an Instrument of Torture.—Better Methods now Prevail.—The Napkin.—How to Establish Regular Habits for Baby.—The Pinning Blanket.—The Little Shirt.—Baby’s Earliest and Best Dress Described.—The Complete Wardrobe Described.—The Furnishings of the Basket.—Things Which are not to Baby’s Taste or Comfort.—The Later Wardrobe. “Wherewithal shall my baby be clothed?” is a question that comes to every expectant mother—if her heart be filled with love for it—when she feels the first fluttering signs of life that announce to her listening heart, “Mother, I’m coming;” and she delights to prepare for her little one the softest, daintiest, richest things that her purse and time will allow. If she is not always wise in her choice of material and trimming and style of dress, it is because of ignorance, more often than otherwise. Sometimes, we fear from pride that her baby should make as fair a show in the flesh as the babies of her friends, regardless of healthfulness or suitableness. I would it were possible for every mother to prepare the first clothing of her coming little ones, all herself; for in such quiet times as women sit down to their needle alone, in the waiting hours, thoughts and plans and high ambitions for the little ones hold them fast, and the heart warms with each dainty stitch, while the mother love kindles and grows, and the castles are built and peopled with baby and its friends and lovers. Far more often than we think, the choicest, tenderest thoughts the woman is capable of, and the highest, noblest ambitions of what her baby shall be, and what she shall be to it, are sewed into the little garments, with her swiftly flying needle; and more than this, are woven into the very fibre and being of the little one.