The time has come to tidy up loose ends and head back to the wintry north.
In some ways, it feels like we arrived yesterday and in some ways it feels as if we’ve been gone for years. So much has happened.
When we arrived, little Ollie was, as a friend calls it, in “Potted Plant Phase”. Sure, he was rolling back and forth but for the most part he’d stay where I left him, arms and legs waving wildly. Now, it’s a full on race to keep up with my crawling, standing, stair climbing babe. He’s chock-full of change. From erupting teeth to bubbling over with babbling, he’s changing right before our eyes.
The other day, I was listing all the boats he’s been on:
A cruise to the Columbia Glacier in Valdez
A boat trip across the lake at home
A glass bottom boat in Hawaii…
This kid has run the gamut, from ice cold ocean to salmon filled lakes to warm seas. In such a small time, we’ve been so many places, met so many faces, learned so much. Change with a babe is constant but adding external change makes the ride even wilder. I did a little more tallying:
Since right before Ollie was born we’ve moved from:
Home to Anchorage
Anchorage to Anchorage (three days before the little dude arrived)
Anchorage to home
Home to Hawaii
Hawaii to Hawaii (we moved out of our family’s house this last week while they had friends visiting and we get to stay with Grandma and Grandpa who are also visiting)
Next up: Hawaii to Hawaii (back to our family’s house for the last week here) and then?
Hawaii to Anchorage
Anchorage to McCarthy (quick trip for The Chief to fix up the cabin)
Anchorage to Fairbanks (work trip for The Chief)
Anchorage to Anchorage (moving from housesitting to another friend’s home)
Anchorage to McCarthy for the summer
Anchorage for school in the fall and beyond!
Phew! I’m a little tired just thinking about it and simultaneously ready to get this show on the road. Change, here we come. Time to go.
I never in my life thought I’d be ready to leave Hawaii but I am. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ll miss the heck out of the ease and the breeze as I wrestle my babe into winter clothes for even the smallest endeavor outdoors but Alaska for me right now signals a slow down (at least in the fall) and I am here for it. Because, while I wouldn’t change a thing, I definitely wouldn’t recommend moving umpteen times with a tot. It’s…well, it’s a lot.
And, it’s exactly what we needed to do to figure out exactly where we need to be.
When we arrived four months ago, I didn’t even want to talk about Alaska. I needed a break. Now, four months later, we are coming full circle. Because while I’m sad to leave, I’m more excited to greet community, continuity and (eventually) calm.
Years ago now, I wrote a post called Home is Where the Hard Is. In it, I wrote about the hard that is our home, about the struggle it takes to do even the simplest home project, and about how that hard is what made it all the more worthwhile.
I was new to our house and we were in the honeymoon mood of making it our home.
The hard thrilled me, it revived me. It held up a mirror to life as I’d known it and asked if what I knew was what I wanted or, if instead, I wanted something different.
I was deeply in love, not just with The Chief but with all that he and this new life embodied. Yet as I was falling in love with my new home, a new friend who has now become a dear friend confessed to me that she was falling out. Reading my post, however, set to the tone of a starry-eyed, love-drunk newbie, a bit of the romance returned for her. She looked a little more fondly at the hard, she’d just needed a break At the time I remember being shocked that anyone could possibly fall out of love with the beauty of all that is our tiny hamlet in Alaska. She pulls you in, how could you ever let go?
The romance of the hard held me close for years. The thrill of an unexpected storm, the creative meals due to dwindling supplies, the discomfort of far beyond freezing temps truly testing my abilities to survive. All of it, every day of it felt like an adventure until…
We spent two years in the hard and a fissure formed. Timing isn’t everything but it can sure make a difference and after spending the entire year before COVID at home in order to finally settle after years of constant packing and unpacking, the non-stop hard started to chip away at the joy. No worries, we’d take a trip and all would be rosy again. Except, we couldn’t. Two years after our intended year-long staycation we went on our first vacation since our honeymoon and for the first time ever we both weren’t ready to come home. I’m fact, had Leto been with us, we might not have.
Where were we?
For the first time ever, The Chief said to me “I don’t want to leave. I could even see living here.”
And so, we have.
The little crack those two years formed has grown since it’s inception but when Ollie came, the crack gave way to a rushing tide of wonderings.
Would the hard work with him?
More bluntly: Would the hard with him work for me? Was I up for the challenge?
There are countless women who have raised their babes in the wild and I was certain for years I’d be among them. It felt like a badge of honor and I hoped it’d be bestowed upon me but that’s not how badges work. Truth be told, I know my ego played a part in hoping I could live this life and ride the homestead-ish mountain mama wave all the way in.
Maybe I could, maybe we will, but right now, I’m just not up for it. This summer, with a new babe in the woods where systems constantly break down and medical care 8 hours away, where there’s one road in and one road out and sometimes no road at all, I finally admitted to myself that I am not up for this year-round anymore. OK, I had done it. I had said the scary thing to myself but the scariest part of that admission was what would happen when I uttered it aloud.
Since our start we’ve always spent some time apart but it’s gotten smaller in quantity every year. We love being together. He also loves being in Alaska. The two years had cracked him but not in the same chasm-creating way it had me. I wanted to be near healthcare and grocery stores, and activities and opportunities for Ollie and, truth be told, for myself. Yet I wanted to be with my husband. I wanted our family together.
So, what’s a family in transition to do?
Move to Hawaii, of course.
Ever since that first trip, Hawaii had been our starting point for hard conversations. Did we want to live in Alaska year round? If we didn’t, where would we live? In a time where some of our dearest friends have been gone from Alaska, it’s been both harder and easier to think outside of the AK box. Our base has shifted. So, we returned to the place where that shift began, this time with our Leto and our Ollie, never to return.
In the past few months, the hard conversations have continued. We spent Thanksgiving morning in tears when we came to the realization that things would indeed be changing but the questions of “How? To where? When?” were still unanswered. That doesn’t rest easy on the soul.
Since then, some big plans have evolved and come this fall, The Chief, Ollie, Leto, and I are doing the last thing we ever thought we would: we are moving away from the woods for more than just a season and heading to Anchorage because…
The Chief is going back to school!
I can’t express the happiness I feel in typing those last three words. I am so incredibly proud of him for choosing a path he desperately wanted but was unsure he’d ever see. I am completely aware that Anchorage is still Alaska, where the grey skies have been getting me down but, that’s the beauty of years of debate: compromise. We’ve agreed I’ll spend some time away every few months to up my vitamin D intake and we will both spend time out in the woods, just not all of our time. It’s the best (that we could come up with anyways) of all worlds. Time in the wilderness and time away and overall, most of our time together.
Almost eight years later, I completely understand where my friend was coming from. I love our home and I also needed a break from the hard. A real break. These past few months have been just what we needed: time in the sun, time with ease, and time to think.
Have I missed the 14-hour shopping days followed by the late-night 8-hour drives home? The unpacking of the truck in waist-deep snow at 3am? Honestly, in some ways, yes. The old me does st least. The mom me? In some ways still yes but in the ways that are a no, I’ve been grateful to be here, at home wherever my heart is.
In just a little over a month we fly home and for the first time ever, we won’t be rushing back out to the woods. Will we be there again? Certainly, but not immediately. Does this new norm feel weird? Indeed. Yet I know it’s right because when I remove what I feel I should do, coupled with what I said I’d do and look at what I feel I need to do for us, this is the answer.
From our hearts to yours (via Hawaii and a half n’ half sunset)
**Where is your heart taking you these days? Are you branching out from your idea of home or rooting down? Let us know in the comments below**
I’ve written to you in my head countless times, crafting paragraphs of prose I promptly forgot. So lest I lapse again, here’s where we left off:
When Ollie was born and we were learning together how to nurse, our doula remarked how we always expect babies to just eat straight through until finish, forgetting that we too pause during meals. We put down our utensils. We take a beat. This simple reality that “babies, they’re just like us” hit home in that moment and I’ve thought back to it ever since.
They’re constantly learning, constantly changing. Yet still, when Ollie got his first fever, it felt terrifying, like I’d never see a fever before. Certainly the stakes are higher for babes, certainly it’s something to watch, but overall? Babies, they’re just like us. They get colds and coughs and just when you think the last sniffle has rung out, just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, something new comes up.
And you can’t study your way out of the unknowns (trust me, I’ve tried).
Ollie sailed through his first fever with his warm cheeks pressed to my chest and straight out of that he went into another new: crawling.
Well, more like an army crawl that now has progressed into a true crawl that I’m sure will soon progress into even more mayhem. The new and the firsts just keep coming with our tenacious little man.
Another first followed: solids!
And yet another first arrived about a week later: his first time meeting his Grandma and Grandpa.
There’s something so special about seeing your parent do the things you loved with your kiddo. For us, reading was my favorite pastime and here it was, recreated in the next generation.
After the dust had settled from meeting the grandparents, up it went again in the form of a work opportunity for me and a new path for The Chief. Big decisions loomed and some still do. The dust up started to feel more like a whirlwind. Yet another first came as we got to talk about these new moves over drinks and appetizers on our first date night!
Still, the holidays stood before us as did time off to think and recoup and…sleep train.
We had plans, y’all.
Apparently we forgot that plans in parenthood (and in life) are laughable, at best.
Two teeth made their debut on Christmas Eve and while it’s been mellower than I anticipated, schedules have gone out the window along with our plans.
What’s a gal to do?
Roll with it.
As we welcome this new year, I welcome (albeit, sometimes begrudgingly) letting go. There are so very many uncertainties in our life right now that the only way forward is just that: forward. So cheers to the unplanned, the unstoppable, the unexpected. I hope it treats you well.
Here’s to a beautiful year.
P.S. What is you resolution or your word for 2023? Leave a comment below!
I’m not much of a runner anymore but I used to run in local races in California for fun (for fun?!). The longest run I ever completed was a 10k and at a point mid-race I remember thinking “Well, this will never end.”
Surprise! It did. I made it. And I lived to see another day. I know the pancake breakfast at the finish line had a lot to do with it but so did just putting one foot in front of the other, cliche as it may sound.
The last few weeks were all about one step at a time. There were so many bumps in the road I thought we might not make the finish line but there was something even better than pancakes waiting. I know what you’re thinking: “Better than pancakes?! Is that even possible? Barely, but yes.
After spending two weeks shutting down the house and driving for 60 miles through the nearly two feet of fresh snow that dumped the day before we left (plus cutting down a tree blocking our passage), plus two moves once we got to Anchorage, a sore throat that we worried was COVID, Leto tummy troubles that had us up in the night more than our Ollie, and Ollie’s first flight, this exhausted quartet made it to Hawaii. It felt like we’d never reach the finish line but we did.
Leto bounded out of his kennel as if he’d been expecting the tropics and has adjusted well in the 10 days we’ve been here. Ollie is a little fish in the ocean who is pretty sure he can swim already and The Chief and I are learning the keys to baby + puppy travel in a new place (where the dog can’t be left in the car and the baby suddenly HATES driving) and enjoying the ease of the warmth and slow pace.
It’s been a week plus of settling, adjusting and finding new rhythms and this week marks a whole new shift: back to work. To be totally truthful, it’s rocked me. I’ve had to force myself to stay present and enjoy the magical moments this island provides and the sweetness of being with family.
Settling wise, we are nearly there. We have a car and groceries and a beautiful place to live with our relatives.
Work wise, I’m 100% panicked about starting back but…one step at a time towards the finish line, right? A finish line even better than pancakes (but I might need some of those too).
‘Twas a whirlwind weekend indeed, preceded by a whirlwind week. And that week? Two weeks ago.
I told you, whirlwind.
Last Monday as I sat down to write, I got about three sentences in before the sleepy wave hit. I guess that’s what getting home at 1 am will do to you. Let me explain: The week had gone like this:
The Chief, partner in crime that he is, agreed to me practicing with my band not once, not twice, but three times in a row for our upcoming gig (which he also agreed to. I told you, partner in crime). This schedule promised late nights followed by his ever-early mornings for work. It was a price we were both willing to pay to help me do something that made me feel like…me. Ollie, trooper that he is, rolled right along with it, taking the milk I’d pump throughout the day (and on the way to practice. Never anticipated that one!) from a bottle from his Pops. Everyone was run a little thin but we all got through it together.
Then came the weekend. With our upcoming departure to Hawaii (we haven’t talk about that yet, have we? More to come…) looming overhead, every spare moment has been set to getting ready to leave AND with the work of living in the woods, spare moments can be hard to come by. So, we spent Friday prepping for HI and prepping for the gig. It’s amazing what you need to pack for a single night away with a kiddo and we aren’t exactly the lightest packers to begin with. Into the bag umpteen changes of clothes, diapers, pump and pajamas went and by the next morning we were off!
The gig was at 5 pm, we were set to play around 7 so I tacked on an hour to adjust for well, life. By 9 pm, Ollie perfectly content in a pack on my front, we started to wonder when the curtain would call. By 10 pm, our time had come and so had bedtime (well, bedtime #2. Ollie had been snoozing since 8).
He wouldn’t get to see me go on but he’d be cozy in bed waiting for me with his Dad. We played for almost two hours to an amazing crowd and were joined by some of the finest musicians I’ve ever had the honor to play with.
My cup was overflowing. Riding on the high of the stage, I walked home, solo for the first time since May and enjoyed the moment of solitude in the soggy streets. Ten minutes, a midnight snack and an unrushed nighttime teethbrushing/facewashing routine later and I was in a whole other moment, one of cozy calm with my three favorite boys. I walked into the room to see The Chief asleep, bottle still in his hand, and a sleeping Ollie, feet propped up on his Pops. Leto greeted me as I entered, letting me know that all of our precious cargo was safe.
What a day.
The next morning was a little bit of mayhem followed by a lot a bit of magic. After shuffling to find a dog sitter and rushing back just in the nick of time, we made it onto…
Yep. In addition to putting us up and feeding us, the gig had also hooked us up with a cruise out to the Columbia Glacier. It was amazing and a day of many firsts for Ollie:
First boat ride First whale, bear, otter, seal, and bald eagle sightings First family trip
We returned to port 7 hours later and left to collect our Leto. We arrived to the caretaker playing Leto the Boz Scaggs song “Lido Shuffle” to try to soothe him. Apparently he cried most of the day. We like to stick together, this fam. So, we all piled into the car in search of sustenance before our 5 hour drive home. On a Sunday. At 7 pm.
If the week leading up to the gig had been a push this was the final haul. The food took what felt like forever and by 8 pm we were on our way, just in time for the rain to set in. A few tears (I’m not crying, you’re crying) and 5 hours later, we were finally home. What a week. A whirlwind week of firsts.
Cheers to many more, though with shorter commutes would be ideal.
P.S. Do you have Hawaii connections?! We are headed to the Big Island (on the Kona side) and will be looking for work and community. If you have any leads, please let us know.
P.P.S Did you have any firsts this week? Lets hear about them in the comments below!
Back in college, I remember reading Travels with Charley and falling in love with the idea of the road trip. I was living on the East Coast but not fitting into the suit it required. This, however, this meandering seeking for soul, felt real to me. At the age of 17, I had been on a few road trips, but most were short stints, weekend trips to “visit prospective colleges” (aka check out the party scene and get an obscene speeding ticket). No, the open road had never stretched out in front of me and after diving into the good book, I was chomping at the bit to partake in my own dog-by-my-side travels.
Throughout my teens and twenties, I dipped my toes into road-tripping and fell in love with the unknown the journeys provided. What would happen? Who would I meet? All questions unknown, soon to be answered. Fast forward to the end of my twenties and enter Alaska where suddenly the idea of a road trip took on a whole other meaning. What used to seem like an eon in the car was suddenly just a trip to the grocery store. 8 hours? Nothing. 16 hours in a weekend? Bring it on.
Just like how a “hike” in AK (an all-day event complete with vertigo-inducing heights, scrambling up scree, dirty from head to toe) doesn’t mean the same thing as it does in CA (medium terrain, snacks at the top, back down in time for Happy Hour. Heck, it can even just mean a walk, nowadays), what I would have called a road trip (anything over 2 hours in the car) is suddenly just a trip.
However, due to my love of roadtrips, I easily became comfortable with the new meaning an 8-hour drive and treated them as adventures. What would happen? Who would I meet? Countless things, countless people. Some drives I’ve started in the company of an acquaintance and finished with a newfound friend. Some I’ve spent alone, in complete and much needed silence, just me and the road. I’ve had Travels with Leto, Travels with The Chief, Travels with girlfriends and new friends and now…
Hooooooey! If I didn’t think Alaska amped things up a notch before, I certainly do now. Enter: roadtripping with a newborn, Alaska style (aka a Town Run).
There are 24 hours in a day, but apparently, there can be 24 hours in a roadtrip (one that normally takes 16 hours).
I had an inkling. I’d done the drive before with a 6-month old and there were LOTS of stops but decided to up the ante with a nearly 2-month-old (tomorrow!).
So, how’d it go? A little like this:
Monday through Wednesday: Prep for Town (which is turns out is A LOT slower when you have a newborn strapped to your chest. I didn’t realize how often I bend down until I started trying to avoid squatting an extra 13 fidgeting pounds. It’s difficult, it turns out.
Wednesday evening: Have the typical What time should we shoot to leave tomorrow? conversation. My vote was to wake up extra early and bail…
Thursday morning: I was up by 6 am with the baby to address his requests: Milk! Diaper! Milk! Diaper! Smiley play time! Milk! Milk! The Chief slept in (after two straight weeks of 13 hour days) until 8 am and…we were off, right?!
By noon, however, we were off! The road out, our 60 mile driveway, if you will, normally clocks in at about 2 hours. By 4 pm we had made it to the end. This was due to be a long day. Had we thought about introducing a bottle pre-trip? We sure hadn’t! Did we wish we had? We sure did! Just before the clock struck midnight that night, we tucked into bed in Anchorage. We’d already done one load of laundry.
Welcome to Town.
Friday: The next morning, we were up early again and off to doctors appointments but not before making the rookie mistake that would plague us all day: we didn’t eat breakfast. By 9 am we were at the midwife and…hungry. By the end of the appointment, we decided Leto needed a stroll. We’d get food afterwards. One lake walk (I made it all the way around for the first time since Ollie was born!) + one bathroom mission + feeding the baby later and suddenly…it was time for our next appointment.
Still no food. We raided the diaper bag snacks. Jerky for breakfast anyone?
At the next appointment, it turned out that my wrist problem was an actual problem and they wanted to get me into a specialist that day. Our day of 3 appointments suddenly turned into 4. Oh joy! Oh boy. After scrambling to set up this new appointment and schedule an earlier time for Ollie’s checkup there was no time again for…you guessed it! Food. By this point it was late afternoon. Off we went to the pediatrician. After a battery of boohooo inducing shots (actually, he did quite well. A few tears quickly resolved by a little cuddling and a lot of milk) it was finally time for FOOOOOOOD! We ordered and ate as we drove to the next appointment at which they suggested I go to one more appointment that day for my problem wrist. By then it was 5 pm.
By the time we got home, we’d been gone for nearly 10 hours. Thankfully, we’d had a few hours left with our post-birth helper and she did our ENTIRE Costco run for us. We wouldn’t have made it that day. She also brought in a haul of garden goodies. After everything was packed away and processed and everyone was fed, Ollie, ever the champ, was ready to settle in after his pokey procedure, leaving The Chief to manage the remaining chores.
Saturday: Up early, out early, right? You know the drill by now and so do we but somehow we thought we might escape the time suck that is packing up and hitting the road. A little before 11 am we exited Anchorage and again, the first 6 hours of the drive were pretty rocky. We stopped to nurse which turned into a diaper change, which turned into multiple diaper changes and back to nursing and finally back to the road. One stop was over an hour yet back on the road we ventured and by early evening Ollie was ready for a long snooze. Off and on he slumbered all the way home as we pulled in the drive at 11 pm.
As it turns out, just because you make it home, doesn’t mean you’ve made it home scot-free. The next few days we paid for our expeditious adventure with newborn wails of a timber we hadn’t yet heard. The Chief also received his first phone call from us at work where we were both crying. Oh joy! Needless to say, it was a rough week but as the distance grew between us and our covered distance, things mellowed, patterns returned, lessons were…learned?
We will see. I still haven’t decided which was the lesser of two evils: doing a Town Run with only one day to run about Town or returning home and having The Chief return to work the next morning. Both are unweildy options. Both are the options we have.
So, Travels with Charley? I’d give an 8 out of 10. I don’t remember thinking the prose was as poetic as his other works but it inspired me and that’s nothing to ignore. Travels with Ollie? Ten out of ten, all the way.
Ten?! Reallllllly, Julia? Ridiculous.
OK, OK, in the moment, in the Crying So Hard He’s Turning New Shades Of Red I Haven’t Seen Before moment, sure, in that moment I’m wondering if I can give it a rating below 0. But overall, it was one of those Alaska moments. One of those longer, harder, rockier “hikes” than planned but the one that left you feeling accomplished and adventurous and…just a smidge insane. I think those are pretty solid components to a good life. And now that it’s done, I know that we can do it. Am I looking forward to the next time? In a way, yes (OK maybe that’s the insane portion speaking a little too loudly). But honestly, I love bringing Ollie into our fold and creating memories with him on a journey I’ve traveled umpteen times without him, dreaming of him someday coming to be. It’s not always easy, this life of ours, but it is rewarding. Remind me of that next time the baby cries himself crimson.
Seven years in the woods. Seven years in love. Seven years I just realized we forgot to celebrate.
Sure, when you get married there’s the debate of “should we really celebrate our dating anniversary still?” to which I have always responded, “Um…heeeeccck yes!”. I love a good celebration and…why not? There’s enough craziness in this world, we should make sure to stop and appreciate the good.
In addition to our 7 years together, this year also holds with it the gift of Saturn. Saturn returns. Every 7 or so years, life just seems to get realllllly real. People get married, divorced, babies are born, houses are bought, moves are made. Big things. Life things.
This round of Return has obviously brought with it a huge, beautiful change and it has me feeling extra nostalgic.
Since coming home with our little, it’s as if I’m simultaneously seeing this place with old and new eyes. The magic of this place feels renewed. As I look around our consistently improving house, I see where this brand new life began. I look to the corner that used to house a mess of a desk in the middle of the kitchen that now holds a real refrigerator (that’s even stocked with vegetables!).
I look at our bedroom, now downstairs so we can all be together as a family. I look out to our porch and almost miss for a moment the Ramp of Doom.
Almost. I think back to my first night at this bachelor pad and marvel at how far we’ve come and how unlikely it was that we ever came together in the first place.
As I enjoy this summer from more of the sidelines than ever before, I see how so many things have come full circle and this view brings with it a lot of gratitude and a little bit of disbelief. Is this real life? Did the perma-bachelor and the determined to be single traveler really make it work? Not without trials and troubles but…my answer is resoundingly “yes”. Sure, this (non-existent) anniversary looks a lot different from years past but it’s beautiful in its own right. Life has been busier than ever and so I take a moment to pause and give thanks.
From one Saturn Returns to the next and to many, many more together. I choose you. Happy very belated anniversary.
With love, always,
P.S. 7 year anniversaries also mean this blog has existed that long. Whether you’ve just joined or have been there since the start, thank you. I am so honored to have you come along on this journey.
As I type this, I have one hand holding our babe and one hunting and pecking her way through the QWERTY-verse. Coming from a Mavis Beacon graduate (where my elder Millennials at?!) this is a sorry excuse for the flying fingers I’d unleash upon the keyboard just 30 days ago. Still, it’s a drastic improvement from my previous postpartum post. In this last month, I’ve come to learn about this little human I’ve spent the better part of a year growing as well as a few other lessons like…
I’ve spent the entire day trying to open my computer to write to you. Our child has had other plans.
The two words I’ve hoped to utter for so very long. He has finally arrived. All 7 pounds, 11.5 ounces of him came into this world 11 days ago tonight. His birth was so fast we almost greeted him at home but luckily made it to the center just in time. Up he came out of the tub and into our arms, wailing immediately until we locked eyes. Curious and kind right from the start. We are head over heels for our little Oliver, Ollie for short. I can’t wait to share more with you.
Last night I awoke from a dream with a startle. Tomorrow was Monday. Monday was the beginning of the workweek. Did I have any meetings I had forgotten to prep for? Did I have any first thing To-Dos I needed to prioritize?
I didn’t and I don’t because, for the first time since I started working, I haven’t been to work in weeks. Any meetings I used to attend will be held without me and any To-Dos will get done in the fall when I return. So why the worry?
Perhaps because today is our babe’s “due date”. The start of the biggest project we’ve ever endeavored upon and certainly the wildest adventure and the countdown clock has now rung out. “Today is the day”, it announces.
Yet so far, today isn’t the day. In the last two weeks, however, there have been a few days that certainly felt as if they might be. The first week The Chief was gone, I was awoken multiple nights by strong contractions and back pain. “Oh, please not yet. Unless you need to” I thought to myself as I breathed through the discomfort and started to calculate if and when to call The Chief, and then…nothing.
A few days and a few false starts later, The Chief was back home with us, and we visited our midwives. Things were looking good. It could be any minute now…
Near the end of the week, things started to really get moving, enough to start looking at a clock and timing the party my uterus was throwing. It was also our moving day. As I looked around at the bags packed and to be packed, the many things to be moved I whispered “Not today, unless you need to” to our little bean. Another contraction. I busied myself with the moving shuffle and by the end of the day, things had slowed down again.
Yesterday, we settled in, nestling into our newest and thankfully last nest until we return home.
Some sweet friends delivered us dinner (you are the best!) and we paused to enjoy the wonderfully Alaskan meal of salmon and salad goodness.
It was amazing and so nourishing after days of half-hearted meals made out of necessity rather than excitement. My belly has been up and down and all around and I’ve pretty much subsisted on a fussy toddler diet of beans and cheese and rice which hasn’t exactly been inspiring for someone who loves food as much as I do. We decided to call it quits on settling in for the night and settled on a movie and…the contractions started again.
Yet here we are this morning, babe still in belly and…I’m OK with that. I can’t tell you how many emails I’ve gotten from different weekly subscriptions with the general sentiment of “Is this over yet???”. Sure, I’ll agree that the last few weeks are uncomfortable (hello flattened feet! Hello nausea and cramping and sleepy but sometimes sleepless nights) but as of now, I’m still happy to be the host (and to fully unpack) and to take our last waddles around the lake as a family of three, anticipating becoming a family of four.
Only time will tell just what day and what time our little one will arrive. Until then, I’ll be here, watching for signs, checking in on times, and riding the wave.