A Moment in a Stylish Life

I'm having a hard time today.


It kind of goes along with the territory of carrying a child.




My absolutely wonderful girlfriends are throwing me a baby shower today. I'm so grateful. 25 of the most stunning, strong, and supportive women in my life will be there to celebrate this amazing thing called a baby. In a few weeks, my mother and mother-in-law are joining forces to throw another shower. Again, surrounded by women who only want the best for me and the baby.





We've been getting gifts, hand-me-downs, and loaners from everyone we can possibly think of - and from people we didn't expect. We have cribs, stollers, Pack-n-Plays. I have dresses and tops galore. We haven't really had to spend a dime so far on anything, thanks to the generosity of those around us.





Every day, someone does something nice. Just plain nice. Total strangers. There's the lady who stood up from her seat on the metro. The saleswoman at Sephora who kindly asked if we know the sex of the baby. And the man at the bowling alley yesterday drilled a bigger hole in the ball (I needed a larger hole for a lighter ball, which they didn't have) just for me. The 66-year old man sitting in front of us at the Nats v. Os game last night gave me one of his precious baseballs (picked up from Braves batting practice a few weeks ago) for the baby. There's an amazing kindness in the air for pregnant ladies. It's a lovely, joyful thing.





And I'm having a horrible time this morning. Weepy, tired, just needing kindness. Which everyone's giving me, bless them. So last night I got out my grandmother's handkerchiefs to have on hand today, and I made sure I have the tokens of gratitude I found for my girlfriends. As soon as I finish writing this, I'll buck up and jump in the shower, then find the emotional strength to put on makeup, brush my hair, and pick out a dress (somehow, in all of this, that's the least appealing part of it). We'll caravan up to Germantown and be blessed by more goodness and kindness.





And I'll sit there in my too summery halter (because it's the only thing I feel like wearing), clutching Grandmom's hankies, and weeping gently for all that I have.