Ever since my husband and I got married we have taken a trip somewhere for our wedding anniversary.  But this was the year I was finally pregnant!  And NOTHING was going to take me more than a fifteen mile radius from the hospital.  I realize pregnant women travel all the time, but I was 40 and had gone through years of fervent prayer, painful procedures, two rounds of in vitro, and hundreds of shots to have this precious child that was all mine and my husband’s genetically.  I was in my second trimester and my pregnancy was going great.  I knew it was all in God’s hands; I just did not want to take any chances.  So I came up with a getaway that would be forever special but still close to home.  I am a Francophile and I have also learned to appreciate boutique hotels.  The Hôtel St. Germain, a member of the elite Relais & Châteaux, came to mind.  What I thought would be good turned out to be great:  it was the most memorable, magical, elegant, and unforgettable night of my entire life.  After the valet took our car we ascended the stairs and noticed an exquisite arrangement of antique furniture from France and New Orleans in a little sitting area.  Off to the left a huge mirror reflected a giant vase resplendent with lavender roses.  The silky soft, fresh petals spilled to perfection around white votive candles which flickered throughout the parlor.  We relaxed in the library where I indulged in one tiny glass of pink champagne before being escorted by name into the grand dining room.  It was, in my opinion, the best seat in the house and has become our favorite table.  Nestled in the center against the windows, it overlooks a charming, ivy covered French quarter style courtyard.  Cut crystal glasses glistened off the chandelier and I loved that the table was set with varying antique silverware and Limoges china.  We dined by candlelight and the courses were not rushed.  The food was exquisite.  Cold water poured from chilled silver pitchers and our entire dinner was perfection.  Handwritten place cards, a menu with our names and the date written on them, and mysterious envelopes rested quietly against the fine linen on our table.  I have written a little about this before, but we arranged for a treasure hunt to be held in our suite after dinner.  I am sure traditionally this involves a proposal, but as I was already happily married and carrying our child, we decided to make it a treasure hunt for the baby.  (Well, mostly, I did add some Toblerone chocolate.)  After we finished our dessert we broke the wax seals on our envelopes and were bid a pleasurable hunt as we made our way up the gleaming, curved wooden staircase.  The hotel is composed of seven suites and, because I love blue, I chose number five.  It had a beautiful canopied blue silk bed and was on the second floor but, when our hotelier found out I was expecting, she felt I would be more comfortable on the third floor in Suite Seven — which she graciously gave to us at no additional charge.  It was an impossibly romantic hideaway as you can see swathed in crimson with a gabled roof and enormous windows.  A separate sitting room lavishly upholstered in red toile featured an antique feathered daybed, a dressing area, and the bathroom held a big Jacuzzi tub.  Burk took off his cufflinks, I took off my shoes, and we began to prepare for the hunt.  Following handwritten clues on thick, ecru note cards, we were like children eagerly awaiting what we would find.  I had bought things for Burk and he had bought things for me to discover.  They were not expensive and the hotel could have very easily been snobby.  Instead they embraced our personal gifts without reserve or judgment.  Among our treasures was a rubber ducky, looking forward to bath time with our tiny little girl, and other small things we hoped she might like.  I am an eternal, impossible, incurable romantic.  And I knew this extraordinary woman who owned the hotel must be as well.  The next morning over breakfast we were encouraged to take our time and we truly felt as if we had been on a trip.  I have been lucky enough to dine in France and New Orleans plus all of Dallas’ finest and I can easily say this was without equal.  The Chinese philosopher Confucius once said, “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”  And that is exactly what we did on our Babymoon.