Unaided by my usual glass of red wine to get the writing juices flowing, my peaceful piano playlist on Spotify transports me to a place of enough serenity that my mind can breathe, and express itself. These moments are rare, I think for all of us, where we find enough peace to reflect, and as I inch towards my due date I have a feeling they are going to become more and more rare.

Paddle boarding in Moorea, French Polynesia

My first trimester my body exhausted itself multiplying cells. I’d wake up, feeling hungover although I had abstained from alcohol from the moment the thought entered my head that I might actually be pregnant this time. I’d strong arm my way through daily work tasks, hesitant to accept that I could no longer accomplish the same amount of “to-dos” that I used to flit through with ease. I’d return home, completely spent from working and commuting and immediately flop onto the couch for a one to two hour nap. I’d wake up, famished, and make something to eat before retiring to bed for a solid 10 hour night’s sleep before waking up to do it all again.

I struggled (and am still struggling) with this new version of myself. I hate to admit that I couldn’t persist through it all - my body simply would not allow it. So parts of my life, parts of my identity, had to temporarily be let go. I stopped blogging, stopped instagramming as much, and carefully committed to social activities, knowing that even a mile walk could exhaust me until supper time. I started to read a lot more, which proved beneficial to my mental health as it made me feel like I was still accomplishing things even if that thing was passively taking in information about this new life ahead of me: motherhood.

As I exited my first trimester, some energy returned, but not all, and my belly started to turn into a “bump”. The little fetus inside me moved around, and sometimes kicked. It was a daily reminder that this little energy draining being was still alive and therefore this suffering had a purpose.

I’m grateful and excited for this baby, and I’m also sad to say goodbye to my old life. This baby was no accident - we wanted and still very much want it - but moving from one life stage to the next isn’t as simple as forsaking the old and welcoming the new with open arms. I want to move in a new direction and already feel myself missing the old one. We made the most of our 13+ childless years as a couple, so I don’t have any regrets about not being able to experience my own life before taking responsibility for another’s. And yet, I’m stepping into the unknown. There is nostalgia for what was, and excitement, trepidation, and a flat out terror for what’s to come.

Sitting here in my overwater bungalow at an adults only resort, getting drunk off of fresh fruit juices served in a pineapple, I’m both extremely grateful for and slightly annoyed at the fact that my lower back hurts from last nights’ restless sleep due to my bulbous belly. I’m going to be a mother, which doesn’t stop making me a human being. As my husband and I embark on this journey raising our baby, I can only hope that I don’t totally lose sight of myself, while at the same time growing to be the best momma I can be.

This babymoon is as much as trip to enjoy my husband, as it is to grieve what I’m leaving behind in order to embrace what’s to come.