I noticed the young woman eying me from across the maternity section at Target. I had made it a habit to of perusing the area after I discovered that you can sometimes find deals cheaper than what you would pay for at Goodwill, (and that the limited selection there is mostly size 16s....from Target).

She finally came over to me with a swimsuit in one hand and a dejected look on her face.

"How do you know if this fits?" she asked.

The non-preggers might have looked at her like she was crazy. Just try it on. Does it fit or not? But I knew what she meant. How does she know if it will fit in a few months or even next week? You know your stomach will grow, but you can't wrap your head around your body growing so rapidly out of proportion. You're unsure of where else on your frame your body will deposit its extra spare change.

It turns out the woman was actually shopping for her best friend who was eight weeks along and works at the pool at the Y. The friend was already complaining about not being able to find anything cute to wear and since they were the same size, she offered to kick-start the venture into the world of maternity fashion, starting with bathing suits. Ouch. My loyal readers know how much fun I had swimsuit shopping.

I was happy to be there to help. I was thrilled to offer my veteran advice as a 31-weeker to a newbie eight-weeker. I was finally on the other end of pregnancy sisterhood. But then I said something I hate when people say to me. (Okay, one of many things I hate when people say to me.) One can be honest about a negative experience while not trying to scare the other person. Instead, I said something along the lines of, "Sure, I'd love to help, because the next couple of months are going to suck for your friend."

I definitely used the work "suck." My grandmother is probably cringing at my eloquent use of the English language.

The woman's face fell instantly and she dropped her the hand holding the swimsuit to her side. For a moment, I thought it was maybe she who was really pregnant, not her "friend," but I decided she didn't look overwhelmed enough to be the one who was actually pregnant.

I quickly tried to soften my opening piece of advice and told her that I simply understood what it's like to have to find a whole new wardrobe and how it can be frustrating to try to figure out what you look good in. I tried to give some practical tips about clothes shopping and what to expect, hoping it would at least ease the anxiety and give her something to work with, even if it wouldn't completely cheer up her friend. Although I didn't have any good suggestions for bathing suits, I enthusiastically led her over to rack with the Bella Bands. I could become an official spokeswoman for this piece of miracle fabric - the tube-top like band that fits around your waist and holds up your unbuttoned pre-maternity jeans or the maternity pants you haven't yet grown into. The woman started to look hopeful. She seemed like she genuinely wanted to help her friend out, even if she had no clue herself where to start. But I had never even thought about maternity clothes until I was pregnant myself, so I thought it was great this woman was helping her friend figure it out.

I wished I had the website of my blog written on a business card so she could pass it along to her friend, who would read it and hopefully learn that worrying about things like clothes when everyone else is extolling the joys of pregnancy doesn't mean you're crazy or superficial. But instead of recapping the 26 weeks since I found out I was pregnant, I threw some more clothing advice at her and moved on so I wouldn't take up any more of her time. I'm sure she'd already gotten too much to completely make sense of.