And you will feel like an idiot. An idiot who is really, really loved.
And then you will cry because you realize how loved you are and mostly because you are in fact, an idiot.
I had a conversation with my girlfriends a bit ago about second showers and about registering the second time around. We don’t do that up here in the north. I know it’s a regional thing and some of my southern girls are thinking we’re weird up here because, of course you have a second shower!
It all started because Babies R Us sent me a coupon in the mail that if you create a baby registry, you get a $10 gift card and since we’re buying a new swing and some other stuff I asked my girlfriends if it would be shady of me to ‘register’ knowing that I wasn’t having a shower. I was planning on just registering a small amount and buying the stuff ourselves.
The conversation continued that my sisters have been trying to convince me to let them throw me a “lunch” for some family and close friends and I told them absolutely not. No way. You just don’t do that! Which, of course, I told my girlfriends.
Who were, completely unbeknownst to me planning a surprise
shower sprinkle. They were a little afraid I was going to be pissed.
See? I am an idiot.
And then right after that, my mom and I went shopping at the Carter’s outlet and I posted to Facebook that we had stocked up on pretty much everything we needed for her arrival and first few months. At that point, they said they were thinking, “oh shit.” I have no filter people. None.
They told me we were getting together to see Amanda’s new house.
And I walked in and chatted for fifteen minutes still completely oblivious. I hugged Danielle and she was a big giant belly toucher. I asked Amanda for the grand tour. Emily started making her famous party bread. I slipped Lindsay a birthday card.
There was a cake, of course there was a cake, but that was for Lindsay’s birthday. I had sent everyone an email saying that we should surprise her and get her a cake and Amanda promised she had it taken care of.
Chatting, chatting, more chatting, “Um surprise Michelle, this is your baby shower.” And wait… what? Are you kidding me? What? And tears. Because I am incredibly hormonal and pregnant.
I like being the planner, not the one who is surprised.
And then I started looking around and things started clicking. I’m going to blame pregnancy brain for the delay it took me to grasp what was going on. The cute plates and cups, all of my very favorite party recipes right down to Lori’s bacon dip, the cute lanterns hanging over the kitchen island and the pile of pink gift bags. Yes there was a cake, but there was also a Happy Birthday Lindsay cookie cake. The cake was a special one made by my friend Stephanie.
Dave took these pics just before the party, which he also knew about. I had make up on, it was back into the cool 70s and I was finally feeling less like the Goodyear Blimp.
35 weeks, 3 days.
And so, to my sweet girls… No more surprises for me, deal? But I love that you did it. I love that I didn’t even have an inkling, you know I would have said hell no. To the ringleaders, I’m glad there weren’t toilet paper belly measuring or games, just lots of laughter and craziness as there always is. I love that you all were so wonderfully caring and sweet and that you’re welcoming baby girl with open arms into such a sisterhood. You’re more than friends to me, you’ve been my daily support and sanity for years, but you already know that. I feel really lucky.