For the record, I am not a fan of registries. For weddings or baby showers. It’s just not my thing. When Sephora offers you an option to create a gift registry, you know that something in the universe is amiss. I love make-up. I do. And I’ve given beauty products as a gift before. But there is just no way I’m going to invite you to my birthday dinner and then throw in a “By the way, if you are stumped for a gift, or think that you know me, just do me a favor and hit up Sephora to see what I really want…” I appreciate gifts that are from the heart. Not a gift that I’ve essentially told you that I would like you to give to me.

I drove my mother crazy during wedding preparations because I just refused to get a registry in order. Of course, I finally got down to business, but it just never felt right to me. My husband and I had a destination wedding, in Colorado. We lived in New York. Our friends and family? All over the country. And we were asking them to fly to Colorado for the weekend, to a costly resort area, stay in a fancy hotel and come to our wedding. Oh, and by the way? I would like this Dualit toaster and these Wusthof knives, thank you very much.

And then, I found out I was pregnant. And so apparently, another registry was in order.

I added things. I deleted things. It was a special kind of torture for me. Because in all honestly, these were things that we were going to have to buy for our baby, anyhow. So why? Why bother? Why not just buy them in the first place?

My mother did her best to explain to me that people want to know what we wanted for our new baby. They needed an idea, a thought, something to run with. So, I made a registry. It was very exciting. Starter kits of bottles, which I never did use. A bottle warmer. Also, never used. A diaper pail, the bane of my existence, for reasons which I will not get into here. Not now, anyhow.

I love to give gifts. I love to spend days, weeks, even months, thinking about who the recipient is. What they like. And then I get an idea in my head and I am a bulldog. And I don’t quit until I’ve found it. Father’s Day is coming up, and I have a doozy in mind for my husband. I’ve been planning on this gift for a year, now. Since last Father’s Day. Which, I might add, was also a doozy. And a mega-hit.

So when Jen emailed me and asked me for any thoughts I might have for a baby shower gift for an expecting mother, I had a moment of panic. A little relapse into my own past. But after reading her note, I realized that we are a lot alike. She was requesting something that would not be on a registry. Something practical but that an expecting mother would never, ever think to buy for herself. Or request from a gift-giver.

And I knew just what that special item would be. Something that you use every day. Multiple times a day. Something that is always on your person. And yet it’s an item that you probably don’t think about. At all. Ever. It’s insignificant, and yet it’s the most significant thing you will ever dig out of your handbag, or curse to the heavens when you have misplaced.

Your keychain.

I received a keychain from someone near and dear to my heart when I had Pea. It was personalized. It had her name on it and a precious little charm that has set a theme for her life from Day One. And when I had Coco? I received, from this same person, another link for the keychain. With Coco’s name. And another charm that, once again, would set the theme for Coco’s life, thus far.

A keychain? Really? Yes. It’s precious and sweet and thoughtful. And it’s always with me. And when I clutch it in my hands and look down, I am reminded of my little girls and how perfect they are. And how much I love them. And how they are my home.

I don’t know if Jen is going to order one. But I do know that if she does, there certainly won’t be anyone else at the baby shower who is going to give the expecting mother the same gift. And I can assure you that when that little gift box is unwrapped? And the keychain emerges? There will be a lot of “oohs” and “ahhs.” And then a whole bunch of mothers are going to go home and log onto the Internet and place their own order. That much, I know.