A week after our baby shower, my husband, Chet, and I dropped off our dog at my brother’s house and skipped town without a single parenting or pregnancy book in our bags. Leaving behind a crib to set up, clothes to wash and bottles to sanitize, we headed to Amelia Island for a long, baby-free weekend. It’s called the babymoon - a last-ditch trip for parents-to-be (or a reprieve for newbies) in need of some adult time and relaxation. I called it three entire days without having to explain why we hadn’t yet picked a name for our soon-to-arrive daughter.

We had first visited Amelia Island on our honeymoon three years ago, staying at one of the B&Bs in historic Fernandina Beach. But for this outing, Chet and I wanted to sequester ourselves near the beach. Amelia Island Plantation spreads out over more than 1,350 acres near the southern end of 13-mile-long Amelia Island. Oak trees cloak visitors at the resort’s shops and golf courses. The main inn overlooks the Atlantic Ocean, touting a two-tiered pool deck. And the Plantation’s romance packages promised just the retreat we had envisioned.

On property, Chet and I traded our car in for an “island hopper,” Plantation-speak for golf cart. (We made a mental note that bikes, baby joggers and trailers were also available for rent.) Our newly constructed, three-bedroom villa near the tennis complex boasted a pool and proximity to the resort’s well-regarded steak and seafood restaurant, the Verandah.

It’s called the babymoon - a last-ditch trip for parents-to-be (or a reprieve for newbies) in need of some adult time and relaxation.

Saturday morning, we rode over to the inn for a sunrise breakfast overlooking the ocean. In the dining room, several couples with babies glanced knowingly at my round belly. With supervised programs for children age 3 and up, the Plantation attracts a number of families and reunions year ‘round.

After a brief walk - ok, waddle - on the beach, Chet dropped me off at the resort spa, which offers facials, hydrotherapy and, of course, massages. For months, I’d been saving up backaches and swollen ankles for an hour-long session. My masseur, Don, found me lounging on a chaise overlooking a stone meditation garden. As we entered the treatment room, he assured me that my ankles and certain spots on my feet wouldn’t be heavily kneaded (some pressure points in those areas can initiate labor, creating an experience completely different from the one I was seeking).

For the next 60 minutes, I felt more relaxed than I imagined I would be for, oh, the next 18 years.

Chet and I met after lunch (he had spent time that morning on a guided Segway nature tour around the Plantation). That afternoon, we hit Fernandina Beach to revisit some of the stops from our honeymoon. On Centre Street, the main downtown thoroughfare, we passed familiar shops like Fernandina’s Fantastic Fudge. For obvious reasons, we bypassed the Palace Saloon, Florida’s oldest, continuously operated bar (since 1903), and made our way to dinner at Embers Restaurant at The Addison on Amelia. Herb-crusted grouper and a New York strip were followed by a chocolate bread pudding that sated even this expectant mother’s sweet tooth.

After dinner, Amelia Island Carriages picked us up for a horse-and-buggy ride through town. Our guide, Cindy, took us on a 30-minute tour, telling the history of the 1800s-built Victorian houses along with ghost stories and gossip from today.

The evening came to a close back at the Plantation’s Falcon’s Nest restaurant, which pulls double-duty as a bar and grill. I sipped a Shirley Temple as Chet and I watched locals and resort guests dance to Top 40 hits.

On Sunday, we browsed the shops at the Plantation. At the window of a children’s boutique, I turned to Chet, signaling that it was time to resume our countdown to parenthood. Soon we were on the road discussing diapers, crib sheets and how we’d tell everyone we were naming our daughter Amelia - at least until we made our final decision.