I guess I’ve been so conditioned by link bait that I actually think in listicle form. (Anyone else?) So, since I’ve been compiling this “what not to say to a woman pregnant with twins” list in my head anyway as I go along, please indulge me while I vomit it forth upon the Internet.
With one disclaimer: I always found these “what not to do/say” lists wildly patronizing — like, OK, fine, sorry I bothered to talk to you at all, cranky lady! But I imagine this post as less of a finger wag at kind people who are simply sweetly inquiring or making conversation, and who couldn’t really know better (or could they?), and more of a thing for other pregnant ladies to read along with their “amens” and “mmmmkays.” We’re in this together, moms-to-be of multiples! So without further ado:
At this point in my pregnancy — just about 26 weeks — I’m getting a lot of, shall we say, feedback, from strangers. Feedback like, “You’re about to pop!” (No, I’m not, but thanks, person who was obviously raised in a barn!) And, “Shouldn’t you be at home knitting booties quietly in your already-set-up nursery plastered in hokey decals, with your hospital bag dutifully packed?” OK, well, not quite in those words, but there seems to be a prevailing sentiment that pregnant ladies are fragile patients who ought to retire to rocking chairs and wait obediently until delivery day.
But if you know me, you know that slowing down doesn’t come naturally — there’s so much fun to be had in the world! Beyond that, we couldn’t even be peacefully nesting in our house while in the midst of a dusty, disruptive remodel anyway. And everyone knows that baby names are best chosen over a mid-air brainstorm, jotted on airplane napkins (so says years of peer-reviewed scientific research). So surely I was in no position to say no to a generous offer from the Hawaii Big Island Visitors Bureau to take one last babymoon (this time, I mean it) on its spectacular shores.
*Bikini baby bump not pictured anywhere here, obvi, hello.
As long as I can waddle, I can try to squeeze in one more babymoon. (I should put that in a pretty script font and circulate it as Instagram wisdom — because you can mark my words, so help me.)
No, but seriously. Our big European adventure was the technical last hurrah before babies — but so were Vietnam, Bali and Belize. So that’s how we do.
The next few trips on the docket are weekenders, including last weekend’s little Palm Springs jaunt. (A quick trip to the desert is something we’d talked about even while freezing our tushies off in Venice and Paris especially.) We stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel Palm Springs, which had just made its debut with an official grand opening party the week before. The Hard Rock replaces (and totally revamps) the former Hotel Zoso on Indian Canyon Drive — walking distance from basically everything.
I’ve been a vegetarian for so long (20-plus years!) that I don’t experience any sense of active compromise when I’m quickly scanning menus for the limited dishes I can eat. And certainly when I travel, I don’t necessarily expect to eat that nation’s specialty, and I don’t bemoan it if I can’t. I’m very used to this, and I like to think I’m low maintenance in that regard, though I do actively seek out vegetarian restaurants when I travel if it’s a possibility.
You’d think that a babymoon in Europe (France, Italy, Spain) would be kind of a perfect scenario for a pregnant vegetarian: first-world cleanliness practices, and tons of bread and pasta and cheese as national specialties, available anywhere from street corners to fine dining rooms (especially compared to some of the more far-flung or meat-loving places where we’ve traveled recently, like Indonesia, Istanbul). Easy peasy, right?
Totally wrong, as it turns out. American pregnant women are not advised to eat unpasteurized cheese (or milk, or juice), and it turns out Europeans are not real big on pasteurizing their stuff. Ironic, right? Given that Louis Pasteur‘s birthplace was indeed France.
Surely I must be one of those people who’s not happy unless she’s in constant motion, whether that means traveling (three countries per 10-day vacation is about our speed), or keeping busy at home.
The latest piece of evidence: On Tuesday, which is the day I hit 19 weeks pregnant (or exactly halfway on the twins full-term scale), we’ll move out of our house as we begin demo for a two-month remodel. To recap: a home remodel while pregnant. One that requires moving out. And moving in with parents and in-laws. For six weeks. Gulp.
In short, here’s why.
Several years ago, I had the privilege of covering the opening of the Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas casino resort. It was a really wildly splashy affair (in the recession, no less) that involved a spectacular black-tie New Year’s Eve dinner designed by Colin Cowie, and a concert in a rather intimate ballroom by such up-and-comers as Jay-Z, Coldplay, Beyonce, Kanye West — you know, no biggie. Of course, the fabulous food and champers flowed, and surprises like poolside concerts and other treats popped up around the property all weekend. After that, David and I decided, “OK, we don’t have to do New Year’s Eve anymore. We can put the whole holiday to bed. We’ll never top this.”
Valentine’s Day in Paris was kinda like that. From the second deck of the Eiffel Tower after sunset, we declared, “It’s a wrap on Valentine’s Day.”
First of all, just to put it out there: The word “babymoon” is pretty obnox, right? But the concept, of course, is something I can totally get behind.
Obviously, when I found out I was pregnant, there was zero chance we were going to miss heading out for (at least) one last hurrah abroad. Of course, we got the doctor’s OK (he was relievingly unconcerned), and then we tossed around a ton of babymoon ideas.
Where to go? In recent years, our travel has tended to favor remote and third-world places, often accessed by super-long flights from Los Angeles. This time, we had a few specific criteria:
Oh yes, this blog is about to take a turn.
My absence here in recent weeks can be explained by the big news that (wait for it) I’m pregnant… with twins no less!
At this stage, I’m into the second trimester and expecting mid-summer. Obviously the exciting developments over here mean that our decision making about all matters both house related and travel related shift in new directions.
I hope you’ll keep reading to see where all of this takes us. I’m pretty darn curious myself!