Some of the women sat in Jill's family room, plates of spinach salad and chicken divan perched on their laps. The remainder circled the dining room table, picking at the brie and crackers and fruit arranged on gold-rimmed platters. Their voices mingled.

"So, Margaret, I hear you got a promotion. VP of Marketing." This from Amy, herself a recently promoted VP and previous to Margaret's promotion, the only VP in the group.

"Yes, much deserved I might add. I've been working my butt off."

"We've all been working our butts off," Megan said.

"Literally, I see. You've lost some weight," Margaret said, studying Megan's backside.

"Not all of us," Amy said, nodding in Jill's direction in the family room. "Some of us get to stay home."

As if overhearing, Jill appeared in the doorway. "Come on. Debbie's ready to open her presents."

Debbie, vastly pregnant, sat in the wooden rocker beside the fireplace. She wore what could only be described as a tent which hung to the floor in a swirl of paisley, covering her swollen ankles. A pile of boxes wrapped in pastel prints and tied with pale blue ribbons were spread out on the floor beside her. Jill knelt by the rocker and handed her a small box.

Debbie pulled off the envelope taped to the outside, removed the card, and read aloud, "For your new baby." She scanned the message inside. "This is from Laura," she said. A slim blonde smiled from the sofa. "I'm going to save all the paper," Debbie announced as she pulled off the ribbon and, tape strip by tape strip, unwrapped the small box.

"Oh, it's from Tiffany's," someone remarked.

Debbie lifted the lid to reveal a sea of blue tissue paper. It rustled audibly in the wave of anticipatory silence which had spread across the room. Her fingers, stiff with water retention, lifted the handle of a sterling silver cup. She squealed. Yes, from the depths of her enormity came a seemingly impossible high-pitched squeal. "It's soooo beautiful," she said.

"Look at the engraving," Laura said.

"Brian," Debbie read. "Oh, you are so sneaky, calling me up last week and asking if I was absolutely positive about the name. His first cup." She handed the cup to Jill, who ran her fingers along the etched surface of the baby's name and passed it on. It made its way around the room in slow, admiring motion.

"Oh, there's more," Debbie squealed again. Buried under another layer of blue tissue were a tiny silver fork and spoon, Brian engraved on each of the handles.

"Born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth," Amy said, as she was handed the cup.

"My mother-in-law gave me a silver cup when my Ben was born. It's special. Everlasting," Laura said.

"My Jennifer has a silver cup too. All babies should have one," Jill said. She took the fork and spoon from Debbie and handed her the next gift. The wrapping paper sported an array of multi-colored blocks repeatedly spelling out the word B-A-B-Y. Debbie read the card and announced, "This is from Margaret." Once again she unwrapped with care so as not to rip the paper. Inside the box was a light blue velvet one-piece baby outfit not much larger than Debbie's swollen foot. She pulled it out to the oohs and aahs soaring up around her. "I can't believe how soft this is," she said, her voice rising again.

"It's called a one-sy," Laura, the voice of experience, told her.

Debbie handed the one-sy to Jill to begin its travels around the room.

"Look at how tiny it is."

"It's so adorable."

The oohs and aahs echoed as Debbie reached into the box again and held up a hooded white towel with a blue silk border sewn along its edges.

"Isn't that just the cutest thing."

"I wish I had one of those to wrap myself in when I came out of the bath."

"Can you believe a baby will actually fit in there?"

The next box Debbie unwrapped contained a scrapbook to record each developmental milestone and another one-sy, white with powder blue teddy bears marching across the chest. She let out the now familiar squeal. "This is going to be the best dressed baby." She ran her fingers along the smooth surface of the garment, folded it between her hands and raised it to her nose. "It even smells like a new baby."

Jill took the one-sy from her and sniffed. "You're right. Baby fresh."

"You sound like a laundry commercial," Amy said.

"Speaking of laundry. You do know to use only Ivory Snow?" Laura said.

Debbie placed her hand across the expanse of her belly. "I've read up on everything. This baby's going to have nothing but the best."

"Speaking of best, open my present," Jill said, handing her a large box covered in iridescent wrap.

"This one doesn't even fit on my lap," Debbie laughed, a deep throaty laugh that bounced around inside her chest before gushing out into the room. She balanced the box half on, half off the top of her thighs as she peeled off the tape and pulled off the paper. "Oh, Jill, they're gorgeous," she said, lifting the lid and peering inside. She held up a comforter and two sets of crib sheets. The comforter was a patchwork of white and dusty blue, the sheets of soft Egyptian cotton. "These are so perfect. Did I tell you we bought an antique white iron crib? Jim and I found it in this little antique store up north."

"Debbie, how old is the crib?" Laura asked, concern edging out the party atmosphere of the conversation.

"From the 1920s, I believe."

"You do know about the slats? They have to be close enough so the baby doesn't get his head stuck between them."

"Of course I know about the slats. Jim and I discussed it and the thing is, I mean, my grandparents and Jim's grandparents all slept in cribs like this and they're still here. People have car accidents too, but that doesn't mean you don't drive in cars anymore."

"No, but we do wear seatbelts," Laura said.

"Laura, lighten up," Debbie said. "Next thing I know you'll be sharing the horror of labor with us." She laughed so Laura would know it was a joke.

"I do take being a mother seriously," Laura said, defensive now. "It's the most important job I've ever had."

"Oh, look, we have another present," Jill said, her voice soaring above the dark cloud settling in the room. She handed the card to Debbie. "Who could this be from?"

"All I know is I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if it were my baby in that crib," Laura said. "And I'll have a hard enough time knowing it'll be yours."

"Maybe I'll be pregnant forever and I won't have to worry about it."

"Debbie, who's the card from?" Jill prompted.

Debbie pulled the card from the envelope and turned to the signature inside. "Amy. It's from Amy." She looked at the present covered in Beatrix Potter prints, by far the nicest of all the wrappings, and tore it off the box. A plump, furry brown teddy bear lay nestled in a bed of white tissue beneath the lid. Debbie lifted the teddy bear and held it face down against the fullness of her chest.

"I do hope you like it. I can run an entire sales division, but I haven't a clue about what to get for a baby," Amy said.

"It's adorable. Isn't it just adorable Debbie?" Jill said.

"It's bigger than the baby clothes," Debbie said.

"You know, one of my most favorite presents for Jennifer was a teddy bear. Hers is pink, of course. I put it on the highboy dresser and it's the first thing you see when you walk into the room," Jill said. She stood up and made her way toward the kitchen. "Anyone for coffee and cake?"

"So, Debbie, are you going to do this natural childbirth thing? What do they call it, Lamaze?" Amy said.

"Drugs. I'm going to beg for drugs. Just wake me up afterwards and tell me which baby is mine."

From the sofa came a deliberate gasp. "You can't be serious," Laura said.

"Sure I am. I want to be totally comatose. What's the point of feeling all that pain? So I can say to my husband later, look what I did for you?"

"Childbirth is the most exhilarating experience. I never felt more womanly. And what about the baby?" Laura said.

"What about the baby? My mother was drugged when I was born. I turned out okay."

"Don't forget about bonding."

"Bonding's overrated. I'm close to my mother despite not bonding at the moment of birth. Brian and I will have years to bond."

"She does have a point," Amy said.

"I'm sold," Margaret said. "You should have gone into marketing, Debbie."

"You're all kidding, right?" Laura said.

"Oh Laura, you know I love you," Debbie said. "Don't be upset. I'm going to need you. Who else will I have but you and Jill to turn to for advice?"

"I've seen the diaper commercials. I can tell you which brand doesn't leak," Megan said.

"They all leak," Laura said.

"Brian won't leak, will you baby?" Debbie said, stroking the taut mound of her stomach.

"All these little baby things are so adorable. Maybe I should have a baby," Amy said. "You get to dress them up. It could be fun."

"Don't forget you get to decorate a baby's room too. How's Brian's room coming along?" Margaret asked.

"Jim's painting it today. Sky blue, of course. And I have a woman coming on Monday to stencil a border of hot air balloons below the ceiling molding. I'm debating whether to have her paint some fluffy white clouds so the balloons will look like they're floating in the sky."

"I like that idea," Jill said, returning from the kitchen with the coffee pot. She placed it on a side table beside the prepared cups and saucers, then cut the cake, chocolate with thick white icing, and distributed the slices among the plates. She handed Debbie the first piece.

Debbie sat the plate on the shelf of her stomach. "Don't mind if I do. Brian loves cake."

"The pregnant gal gets to munch on all the cake she wants. The rest of us have to watch our figures," Amy said, but she helped herself to a piece anyway.

"A once in a lifetime opportunity," Debbie said. She slid the fork through a corner of the cake and popped it into her mouth.

"The weight isn't that easy to lose," Laura said. "I learned the hard way."

Megan waved away the cake Jill offered. "I don't know if I'd paint or paper a baby's room" she said, returning to the previous topic. "What'd you do Laura?

"I opted for paper in bright, primary colors. Stimulates the baby's sensory development."

"I had Jennifer's room papered too," Jill said. "A pink gingham pattern with . . . you want to see?"

"I'd love to," Megan said.

"Mind if I join you?" Margaret asked.

"No, not at all. Anyone else want to come?"

"Sure, why not?" Amy said.

"I wouldn't mind seeing it again," Laura said. "What about you Debbie?"

Debbie placed her hands on the arms of the wooden rocker, the grunt she gave as she heaved herself up the sole signal of her planned attendance.

They climbed the staircase together, Jill tossing comments over her shoulder about the trials of picking out wallpaper and finding a good paper hanger. Debbie's heavy, uneven footsteps lumbered up the rear.

Jill pushed open the door at the top of the stairs to the appreciative gasp of her audience. The walls were papered in pink gingham, just as she had described, and a waist-high border of pale yellow ducks were pasted along all four walls. It had a soothing, yet buoyant effect this row of floating ducks. Jill led them into the room, their feet sinking into the plush pile of the rose-colored rug as they stepped inside. Two oversized windows were draped in white eyelet and lace, a pink satin ribbon meticulously woven through the holes in the cloth. Late afternoon sun poured through the lace; the bright light danced in fuzzy star-shaped patterns and cast a golden glow upon the pink walls.

"It's so perfect, so little girl," Megan said. She walked over to the highboy with its glossy white finish and fingered the items sitting on top: a large ceramic piggy bank painted with white and lilac roses, a lamp with a translucent pink shade and, of course, the furry pink teddy bear with a yellow ribbon tied around its neck.

Laura came up beside her and turned the silver key at the base of the lamp. A doll in a wide hoop skirt swung round and round in wobbly motion while a white fluffy lamb shook to the tune of Mary Had A Little Lamb.

"Adorable," Debbie squealed.

Margaret admired the wooden rocking horse on the floor.

"It's hand-carved," Jill said. She moved further into the room. "Wait til you see this. A woman at work painted it for me." She indicated a round, child-sized table and chair set decorated with an assortment of hand-painted butterflies and flowers.

"I always wanted one of those when I was a child," Amy said. "To have tea parties with my dolls."

"I see there are no dolls yet. I approve. There mustn't be any dolls until there are trucks. For balance," Laura said.

"But Laura, honey, the room is already so pink. I don't think a truck would do much to tip the scales here," Amy said.

"You really did a nice job, Laura. It's beautiful," Megan said. She hesitated for a moment. "What's the baby's name again?"

"Jennifer."

"Yes, Jennifer. Well, she's one lucky baby."

"Is this her?" Margaret asked, indicating the framed photo collage hung on the wall above the highboy. Amy and Megan gushed in profuse praise over the big round eyes and fat rosy cheeks.

"She's darling," Margaret said.

"Thanks," Jill said.

"And look at the crib," Debbie's high pitch voice sounded again.

The crib sat against the corner of the far walls, the white bentwood frames of the head and foot boards jutting cattycorner into the room. Fat bumpers sewn from a fabric of white and pink hearts padded the inside of the rails. A pink dust ruffle flowed in a sheen of satin from beneath the mattress.

"Jill, you've outdone yourself here," Megan said and Jill thanked her too.

Debbie waddled toward the crib.

"You look like one of those ducks on the wall," Amy said.

Debbie got as near to the foot of the crib as her stomach would allow. She tried to peer over the massive heart-filled bumpers. "I can't see in," Debbie said and laughed. "I can't get close enough."

Amy glanced at her watch. "Oh my, look at the time. I really must be going." She gave Jill a hug and kissed her cheek. "Thanks so much. Everything was lovely."

"I'm so glad you could come," Jill said.

"I need to be going too," Megan chimed in.

"Yes, me too," Laura said. "Debbie, I'll help you get your things to the car."

"I can help too," Margaret said.

Debbie made her way toward the women waiting in the doorway. Good-byes were given in a gaggle of hugs and a chorus of thank-yous, interrupted at random by a whimper from inside the crib. Jill led them out of the room. The whimper grew, slowly turning into a high-pitched wail. Jill hesitated in the hallway.

"Don't worry, we'll let ourselves out," Laura said.

Jill leaned over the banister and watched the five of them, babbling and cackling, descend the staircase. With each step away from her, they grew smaller and smaller. Even Debbie seemed to be shrinking.

Jill returned to the baby's room. Outside the window the sun had fallen below the top of the trees, casting long shadows through the lace curtains onto the walls. She turned on the lamp on top of the highboy. The light shown from behind the pink shade. She walked over to the crib where Jennifer lay, face up, hair dampened and cheeks flushed, sucking furiously on her fist. A fresh crop of prickly heat-type pimples had sprouted in a disorderly pattern on the side of one cheek. Jill sniffed the air. "Jennifer, you stink," she said and bent to change her diaper.

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