Having a series of dramatic “lasts” before our baby was born was just something I expected.
Like a last date night, just the two of us without getting a babysitter.
the last weekend visiting our parents without loading the car full of baby gear.
I imagined and expected these last few months before baby to be a lot different.
I would rather carry a thousand babies for an elephant’s gestational period than have to assist my husband with multi-step nursery projects. I wish my dad was able to come do the boring manual labor while my mom and I shopped.
My showers were cancelled, and even though we appreciatively open each box sent to our house with a gift, it’s not the same as being in the same room with everyone you love celebrating and eating cupcakes.
Some days are better than others, but for the most part, a heaping dose of gratitude keeps me from going off the deep-end during this time of extreme isolation.
I am working on letting myself feel the disappointment when I see the floral maternity dress hanging in my closet that I won’t wear at my shower – but not letting that disappointment turn into an entire day of depression and sulking (Trust me, I’ve sulked a lot longer over things much pettier).
I am working on noticing fear and anxiety about the arrival of our girl during horrifyingly uncertain times, without allowing it spiral into full-fledged panic.
I think feeling these things is healthy, but gratitude and perspective have both allowed me to still choose joy when I am about to start floundering.
One of the things I am most disappointed about is not going on a “Babymoon” with my husband. If this is a new phrase to you, it’s simply a vacation pregnant Millennials have created to signify the end of one chapter of their marriage and the beginning of parenthood.
I imagined lazy beach walks/waddles and my husband splashing me with hot-tub water by the pool since I can only put my feet in while pregnant.
I was so excited for seafood dinners with virgin cocktails and bed by 8:30 after I over-ate, after once again, misjudging how much food I can fit in my stomach.
I couldn’t wait for conversations by the pool – not worrying about nap schedules or feedings. Just going with the flow – reading, talking, relaxing.
I was so excited.
But recently I was thinking – how many couples can say they had, basically, a 3-month quarantined Babymoon – just the two of them?
The majority of my friends are currently being overrun by their toddlers 14 hours a day during this stay-at-home period, but for now, it’s still just Max and I.
I mean, it hasn’t been tropical, but what other time in our life will it literally be illegal to spend time with anyone else but each other (hopefully never) with no little humans vying and competing for our attention?
So I started thinking of this Quarantine time as a Babymoon.
And sure, it’s different, but it has been so, so sweet. Max has been working from home the last few weeks, so with both of us here, there have been so many moments of bonding and creating sweet memories we will never forget.
Putting an AirBed in the living room for more comfortable TV viewing.
Max giving me an hour long “Easter Pedicure” to pamper me since I can’t reach my toes and salons are closed.
Working out together in the basement and making Protein smoothies and drinking them together.
Strolling the neighborhood any day it reaches 40 degrees accompanied by long conversations.
Laughing til we cry as we tell stories from childhood we haven’t shared before. Like when someone at camp took Max’s sleeping bag on accident, so he just grabbed another lying there and that was his sleeping bag forevermore.
Laying in bed asking questions like, “What are your top 3 carnival foods?”
Playing Nintendo 64 while popping Cadbury eggs.
Arguing about baby names and staring at her ultrasound pictures trying to figure out whose nose she has.
Accusing each other of being the one that put the bag of Almonds in the fridge (it was me.)
Baking every baked good imaginable and saying we will get in shape this summer because I am not allowing Max to lose weight while I am pregnant.
It has been sweet and it has been simple.
There’s no ocean waves or sand between our toes but we have grown stronger on this weird Babymoon –
At the kitchen table, around the block, and swinging in the backyard.
On our living room couch watching church, on the patio grilling burgers, in the basement playing video games.
We aren’t being served dinner at a fancy restaurant, but we are washing dishes side by side talking and wondering how 2 people could need to run the dishwasher so many times.
It has been the weirdest, sweetest Babymoon I could have imagined.
In a few weeks, our new addition will be here. No, I don’t have pictures of Max holding my belly in front of the water or her name in the sand.
I don’t have a onesie with the city name on it or a seashell from the beach to put in her nursery.
I don’t have tan lines or jet lag, but I really believe at the end of all of this, we will have a stronger, more solid marriage.
We will be more ready to be parents than we were when this begun, closer friends, better teammates.
When I look back at this time with my husband, I will remember him spending hours putting nursery furniture together with the smell of banana bread in the oven.
I will remember coloring in my adult coloring book and having him help me pick out the colors.
I will remember the quiet and the laughs and the tears we (okay me) cried as I processed life in all its ups and downs.
No, it’s not the Babymoon I imagined, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Nursery set up.
Makeshift Baby Shower
Morning church and coffee.
Our new home movie theater.