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Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, I was pregnant for the first time. Overwhelmed? Oh, boy! Everyone I encountered had a  “Do this!” and a “Don’t do” that. Foods to eat, to not eat, exercises to avoid, to commit. Combine that with the unexpectedness (oops!) of my first pregnancy, some pretty serious 1st trimester exhaustion/nausea, and a genetic predisposition to pre-eclampsia, and I was doomed. Not only did I succumb to pregnancy-induced hypertension before 6 months were up, but I registered for everything under the sun. When that sweet boy came home and my c-section incision was healing, I found myself completely lost. What in the hell was I supposed to do with him now? Would I ever be able to execute a diaper change without backup? And what could I possibly, ever, use that bottle drying rack for?

My friend Julia is way smarter than me. She planned her first pregnancy, and handled it with grace. Gestational diabetes? Roll with it. Hubby away within weeks of baby coming home? No big deal. Little Coleman was created and welcomed with love and intention. What a lucky boy!

I’ve known Julia for 16 (!) years now. We met in college, lived together for a few years, and shared more than I could possibly relate here.

that's julia on hte left--way cooler than me in my (badly) homemade hippie shirt

Her marriage (Hello, Heyward!) and pregnancy are no small deal to me. However, Julia lives in Oakland, CA and I live in Northern Maine.

The distance isn’t exactly conducive to surprise showers, housecleaning gifts, and first days babysitting. But as soon as Coleman (isn’t that a fabulous name?) arrived, I began making. And soon I was able to send off a little (care) package, with some useful things for baby and something pretty for Mama.

It’s not a lot, but I hope they all know how much I care. It’s an awful lot, even across all these miles.

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