I never thought an invitation could make me tear up, but when Katherine dropped that glossy little envelope in my hands—bam. It did. That’s a first.

She called her theme “Heaven Sent.” Pastel pinks, pearly whites, fluffy golden clouds everywhere. Like Pinterest exploded, but with more sentiment, less chaos. The real clincher for me?
Those invitations.

Let me tell you: they were not your average card-stock-afterthoughts, the kind of thing you shuffle through at the kitchen table while searching for a pen.
Nope.

Katherine’s “Heaven Sent Girl” invitation arrived with a shimmer, I swear, and not just because of the gold foil. Each one: hand-tied cloud-white ribbon. Subtle. Chic. Angel wings? Oh, they ruffled gloriously behind a halo that seemed to glint with holy approval. If cherubs did marketing, this would be their pitch deck.

I flipped that invitation over more times than I’ll admit. Katherine told everyone: “She’s a miracle. A heaven-sent girl.” And the invitation set the precedent. Soft calligraphy spelled out her joy, hope, years of waiting. You could practically hear the church bells or, I don’t know, the triumphant strains of “Ave Maria” when you opened it.

Here’s the type of detail that matters:
Inside was a simple poem, something about twinkling stars and bundles of dreams. It was adorable. Sincere, but not sticky-sweet. “Shower our Heaven Sent girl! We celebrate each joy. Katherine and baby hope you join in love, not just occupy a chair by the dip station.” Or something poetic like that (no dip-shaming intended).

I RSVP’d so fast I might’ve burned a hole in her inbox. And at the actual event? Every detail sparkled in harmony with that first, frothy promise the invitation made. Even the cookies looked touched by angels—edible wings and all.

Moral of this little blog tale? Don’t sleep on the invitations. Katherine’s Heaven Sent Girl Baby Shower invitations didn’t just open the party. They set the stage for magic itself.

Consider this my formal endorsement (in cloud-shaped print): Go all out. Heaven is, apparently, in the details.