I often hear people talk about how awful it was for them, or must be for me, to be heavily pregnant in the summertime. And I generally disagree wholeheartedly—it’s been mostly fine! But there is one majorly uncomfortable issue with being pregnant in these hot months, and it’s not the heat. Here’s the real reason why summertime pregnancy is tough: FOMO.
Given I’m carrying twins—and big ones at that, about six pounds each (!!) at last measure—I outgrew maternity jeans weeks ago, and closed-toed shoes on my swollen dogs sound like torture. So, thanks especially to my wardrobe of flow-y caftans and maxi dresses from the likes of Rachel Pally and T Bags, being pregnant in the summer suits me just fine (notwithstanding that three-week period when our home AC decided to poop out, because: Murphy’s Law).
But there’s this: Summer is my jam. My husband has always said I have a solar battery, and I get totally charged when things heat up. I want to be everywhere, every weekend: somewhere far flung out of town, somewhere fab within driving range, or at the beach or hiking right here in L.A.
Now that I’m close to 36 weeks pregnant and using a motorized cart just to get around Target, aint none of that happening.
My best friends all planned a camping/July 4 party weekend in Northern California, and I gulped with—what was it? Envy? Longing? (Maybe acid reflux.) It would be the first time, pretty much ever, that I’d miss out on a trip like that. I even sort of half considered, “Well, maybe…” and then I’d remembered that these days I cannot actually turn over in bed without David’s help, or make it to the bathroom at night without using multiple pieces of furniture as crutches, or that I could go into labor any day. So even relentlessly, mercilessly festive me had to admit it was time to wave the white flag on that idea.
But! We had a plan.
On Saturday, we drove approximately five minutes from our house to the Four Seasons Los Angeles at Beverly Hills for a babymoon staycation—and, IMHO, there is nothing like a Four Seasons to take the sting out of just about anything.
We checked in for a holiday weekend staycation in a impeccable suite—with a fifth-floor balcony that literally afforded views of our delivery hospital (not to mention the West Hollywood and Hollywood Hills, and an impressive L.A. cityscape). Very reassuring.
We spent our days floating weightlessly in the pool, a feeling so blissful on achy bones and joints, I never wanted to get out. And it became sort of a social event too: From what I could tell, most folks were locals doing as we were, and we encountered old friends and made tons of new ones. (My advice to anyone who feels lonesome: Get pregnant with twins, carry them almost to full term, then get in a maternity swimsuit in an intimate pool environment. EVERYONE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU.)
And it was the kind of family environment I imagine as our travel style after the babies come: Totally kid friendly, but more than adequately luxurious and comfortable for grown folks too. I don’t see why “family friendly” has to mean “sucky for parents.”)
For dinner, we headed down to Culina, Modern Italian, what is surely one of the most simultaneously gracious and somehow laid-back restaurants in L.A., with a sprawling patio surrounded by foliage and fire and water features, for a generally transcendent atmosphere.
I’m so fond of a lunchtime salad that I asked for it for dinner this time too: quinoa, almonds, strawberries, feta, cucumber, mint, lemon, and green onion. Divine. We rounded out the meal with burrata-stuffed tomatoes and veggie pizza to share, washed down with a green juice. Fresh, local perfection.
We left the hotel but twice over the long holiday weekend, both times for laughter-filled backyard barbecues with fabulous friends. By the time we got back home last night, we sighed with that deep satisfaction of holiday weekend joie de vivre—yes, even possible days from delivery.
All in all, it was another jolt of encouragement: Although we’ll have to get used to a certain new level of inevitable FOMO after the babies come, we’re pretty sure we’ll find ways to adapt.