*this post is only about a month and a half overdue…not bad.
Right up there with “push present” is the equally obnoxious pregnancy buzzword “babymoon”–which is stupid in both concept and practice. Conceptually, an anything-moon should happen AFTER something (like how a honeymoon comes after a wedding, not sandwiched between the best man’s speech and the cake cutting). And practically speaking, vacationing while pregnant throws a bit of a wet blanket over everything that is usually fun about vacation.
I didn’t plan on being 29 weeks pregnant when I went to Hawaii for 12 days in February. If anything, it was more of an, “aw shit, I’m going to be super pregnant by then,” moon than a babymoon.
But what can you do? If you’re serious about getting pregnant, you just have to do a few simple things like buying a golf membership, adopting a second cat and booking a non-refundable trip to Hawaii. Duh.
So off we went to Maui with my husband’s two brothers and their better halves. Now, proponents of the babymoon would have you believe that it’s a fun, last-ditch chance to vacation carefree and child-free. The flaw in this logic is that you are NOT actually child-free when you are pregnant. There is a child, people, and it’s right there stomping on your bladder, dolphin-kicking your ribs, and flipping off your Mai Tai-free liver.
It wasn’t all bad, of course – in fact, lots of it was super fun. It was just super fun for a not-ideal situation, rather than straight-up super fun.
Time off: 12 days of waking up at your leisure in a balmy paradise and not going to work is better than 12 days of waking up to an alarm and going to work in sub-zero temperatures. That one’s a given.
The company: The company I cannot complain about. Really, I cant – they read the blog. Ha! I kid, it’s always fun hanging out with the siblings-in-law. Oh, and my husband is pretty fun too. It’s pretty undeniable that I was the weakest link in the fun department on this trip.
Tuna, coconut shrimp, cinnamon buns & pancakes: Separately…not like, blended together or anything. Our resort was known for it’s banana-pineapple-macadamia nut pancakes with fluffy coconut cream (worth the 30-45 minute line-up) and a local bakery sold a limited number of cinnamon buns out of a kiosk in the lobby every morning. So, breakfast wasn’t terrible. And there are few things I love more than coconut shrimp and fresh ahi tuna poke (sorry ’bout all the mercury, unborn baby.)
Maui: Maui is beautiful, safe, essentially bug-free and warm without being deathly sunburn-y the way Mexico can sometimes be.
Fleetwoods on Front Street: This was one of my favourite nights out. A rooftop patio in Lahaina, delicious lime in the coconut virgin cocktails, bagpipers (Mick Fleetwood’s mom is Scottish) a Hawaiian storyteller and a great band. The food was amazing and it was still not the biggest reason to go there. Highly recommend.
No A/C: The gentle Hawaiian breezes are supposed to be enough to keep your room cool, but I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat one time too many to believe that.
The sand: Easily the most overrated substance on the planet. Pretty to look at, but murder to walk in when you’re carting around some extra poundage and all your joints are sore and unstable.
The bathtub: Or lack thereof. This is not something I would normally care that much about, but not having a bathtub when you’re preggers sucks. Especially if you plan on shaving your legs or, you know, cleansing yourself in any way from the belly down, really. You just can’t see, reach or contort your body in an effective way to make a tiny shower stall your first choice.
The discomfort: At this stage of pregnancy, everything feels like work and nearly everything tweaks a nerve, puts an appendage to sleep or triggers the need to pee. Walking around isn’t all that comfortable, but trying to get comfortable on towels or beach chairs for any significant length of time isn’t all that easy either. So you’re always sort of tossing, turning, fidgeting around trying to find a position that is “relaxing”.
Two words: mirrored walls. This was really a cruel joke. Our room was fitted with two, adjacent, fully-mirrored walls to – I can only assume – make it feel more spacious. So the second I sat up in bed in the morning I had to face my own increasingly spacious body. Averting my eyes all the way to the bathroom resulted in some stubbed toes and colourful language.
When all was said and done, I’m glad we went ahead with the trip – it wouldn’t have been worth cancelling. But, word to the wise: don’t intentionally book an expensive beach vacation beyond, let’s say, 20-25 weeks. It’s just not as great as it should be. Instead, travel a ton before you get pregnant and then spend your pregnancy sucking up to your parents so they’ll babysit while you go on kid-free trips afterwards.