Babyshower: Plannin' a party for someone you haven't met

Having put all my eggs in one life and love basket has bit me in the ass and left me unemployed, incredibly poor, single, pregnant, and living with my mother. I wish I could say that I wouldn't have it any other way, but... I'd... I'd certainly have it any other way. Don't get me wrong, I'm sickeningly grateful for the relatively gentle fallout I've experienced from my life implosion. I just... still wish it hadn't quite imploded.
Having said that... I'm trying to carry on through this pregnancy with a sense of normalcy and one of those normal things that normal pregnant women do it have a baby shower... baby sprinkle... baby tinkle... or blessingway ritual.
As someone struggling with social anxiety and depression, this is a fucking nightmare.
As someone who really needs baby clothes and bottles cuz she can't afford life on her own right now, this is a fucking nightmare.

The struggle?
I know a ton of amazing women--women who've influenced my life in unforgettable ways, in fleeting moments of impact, and in long lasting durable relationships. I know women who've invited me to their baby showers who think of me in the same way. I know women who I just think are cool and would like to get to know better. I know women I need in this Nugget's life. I know women who I don't know who I just feel like I should invite because they're friends or family with my ex and part of his life. Do I invite them all? Will they think I just need stuff? Will they show up? What do I do with them when they get here? What if my house isn't big enough? What if they feel obligated or awkward or pressured to attend?

I don't know how to focus on myself with all these other people walking around on the planet at the same time.
I know this is my pregnancy.
I know this is my Nugget.
I know this is a temporary step in a long life journey.

I just kinda wish I could sleep through it.

I've got two amazing girlfriends who are gonna plan this thing for me. They've volunteered and I've relinquished and it's happening. No silly parties, crock pots only, vicarious mimosa drinking, brunch thingie on a Saturday in February. There's a date set so now I can count down the clock and wind myself up with anxiety as it approaches.
"Motherhood is hard, babies are expensive, you love these women, let them help" keeps repeating.

"Motherhood is hard, babies are expensive, you love these women, let them help"
"Motherhood is hard, babies are expensive, you love these women, let them help"
"Motherhood is hard, babies are expensive, you love these women, let them help"
"Motherhood is hard, babies are expensive, you love these women, let them help"
"Motherhood is hard, babies are expensive, you love these women, let them help"