When we were only around 6 weeks pregnant, we started having this conversation about how this would be our last 9 months to travel just the two of us, so we booked the ubiquitous "Babymoon" (what travel site or women's magazine or major hotel/resort brand came up with that garbage anyway?). We couldn't necessarily afford it, but money is no object in the face of blind joy. We figured we'd thank ourselves later. I wrote a lovely letter to the Airbnb.com renter telling her all about how we would be coming to use her tropical oceanfront condo as a Babymoon escape, pushed send, the deal was made, and I promptly set to fantasizing about sunning myself under a palm tree complete with cute little baby bump sticking out of my bikini.
Fast forward to today (when I would have been around 18 weeks…gosh that's hard to wrap my head around) with the reservation date quickly approaching. The renter lady emailed me to confirm our arrival details. She wrote : "we're happy to be welcoming you and your husband to celebrate your babymoon". I had forgotten she knew. It was like taking a bullet. A bullet I tell you. Ok, no, I've never taken a bullet per se, but I have to imagine.
It got me thinking though. About Miscarriagemoons (is it possible i just coined the most bizarre term ever uttered?) They actually seem like kind of a brilliant idea, right? It's like a Babymoon! With booze! (that's how we'll advertise them) Chances are there is no time in your life when you have been more in the need of a vacation or in need of a chance to reconnect with your partner over something exciting. I, for one, certainly can't think of a better reason to drink guilt-free pina coladas (and I've dedicated considerable thought to the topic). I'm counting on stupidly high levels of Vitamin D to counteract the Ghosts of What May Have Been and we'll go from there. I'll report back from the other side!
Fast forward to today (when I would have been around 18 weeks…gosh that's hard to wrap my head around) with the reservation date quickly approaching. The renter lady emailed me to confirm our arrival details. She wrote : "we're happy to be welcoming you and your husband to celebrate your babymoon". I had forgotten she knew. It was like taking a bullet. A bullet I tell you. Ok, no, I've never taken a bullet per se, but I have to imagine.
It got me thinking though. About Miscarriagemoons (is it possible i just coined the most bizarre term ever uttered?) They actually seem like kind of a brilliant idea, right? It's like a Babymoon! With booze! (that's how we'll advertise them) Chances are there is no time in your life when you have been more in the need of a vacation or in need of a chance to reconnect with your partner over something exciting. I, for one, certainly can't think of a better reason to drink guilt-free pina coladas (and I've dedicated considerable thought to the topic). I'm counting on stupidly high levels of Vitamin D to counteract the Ghosts of What May Have Been and we'll go from there. I'll report back from the other side!
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