“In my day, you had three friends and a few old ladies for church rally things together and drop them off.”
“Okay, well, good news, whatever theme that is, I don’t want it. Make it a little more razzle dazzle than that,” I offer jokingly, nudging my mom’s shoulder.
“We can do cowboy themed, there’s some sunshine themes, though. My favorite one is ‘Ahoy, here comes a boy,’” Willow says as she turns her phone around for all of us to look at.
“People are so creative,” I say, scrolling through the endless ideas that keep popping up.
Sandra, the waitress, makes her appearance back at our table. “Hello girls, happy to see this smiling bunch all together. What can I get you to drink?”
“Iced tea,” I chirp.
“Oh, that sounds really good. Can I do that, too?” Ava asks.
“Of course,” she looks over to my mom and Willow, “and you ladies?”
“I’d like a Diet Coke,” Willow says.
“And I’ll take a coffee. I need more energy to keep up with these spring chickens.”
“Will you guys be eating with us today or just hanging out?” she asks. In a larger city, I could see them getting mad about hogging a table for hours with no plans to eat. But not here, they’re just happy to have you.
“We will absolutely be eating.” My stomach rumbles as if on cue.
“Alright, well, I’ll get those drinks and give you ladies some time to figure out what you want.”
“Thanks, Sandy,” my mom says with a grin.
“Okay, back to themes.”
“How about we skip the themes, and go for more of a monochromatic blue moment?” I request.
“Oh, yeah. That could be really cute. I know this lady who does balloon arches and stuff,” Ava says, pulling her own phone out.
She pulls up the girls’ group page and shows us the work she has done. We all ooh and ahh.
This is such a special moment. There isn’t a lot about the pregnancy that has broken my way. The top half was tough with Rhett, and once that got figured out, I started swelling up like a balloon. Add in Rhett and Weston still being on the rocks, it almost feels like I can’t catch a break. But these little moments remind me of how much is still going right.
Ava scrolls over one too far and we are blasted with a picture of a Gracie girl blow-out.
“Ew,” Willow says, playfully gagging.
“Oops, sorry. Nothing like that to add to your appetite.” She winces with a bit of regret.
“I’d judge you, but I know that I’m about to be living that life, so it’s all good. Baby shit green isn’t really her color though,” I joke.
“You nurse types are gross,” Willow says, her face displaying how little she is enjoying this.
“Listen, that’s actually at the bottom of the gross list for things we see. I mean, I only work like eight hours a day a couple times a week right now, so I’m probably missing some cool stuff,” I say, only half joking. It’s hard working less, but my body does feel so much better for it. It’s only for a short time, too. My whole team has been really kind about easing my guilt for them having to pick up my slack.
“How is that whole pre-eclampsia stuff going?” my mom asks.
I nod my head side to side, trying to give an answer that makes sense. “It’s okay. I have to check my blood pressure a lot. The only time it’s high is after work from being on my feet all day.”
“That’s good. You guys have sure been through the wringer. You deserve a baby that sleeps through the night by week three as a reward,” Ava chimes in.
“I agree; that would be a nice treat. Speaking of treats, what’re we ordering? Baby is starving.” I run my hands over my bump and rest them there.
We all converse over what we’re going to order. Brunch is my favorite and it takes me about two seconds to decide what I want when I get a whiff of syrup from the kitchen. French toast, with strawberries on top. Two strips of bacon and one sausage link. It’s a bit specific, but what baby wants, baby gets.
