As celebrity media becomes more and more obsessed with famous people pregnancies, a few “luxury maternity” trends have started to pop up. Here at Mommyish, we’ve rolled our eyes at super-expensive push presents. We’ve groaned over designer baby clothes. And we’ve thrown some shade at “babymoons,” previously known as pregnant people going on vacation. We like to bring these trends to back to earth and talk about how they might relate to normal people.
So if you’d like to hear about a babymoon that doesn’t involve Caribbean islands or any sort of romantic getaway, let me tell you about my week’s vacation about a month before my daughter was born. I wouldn’t have described it as a “babymoon” in the past, but now I think it fits in with this uber-trendy new part of the pregnancy experience.
A couple of days before Christmas, my eight-month-pregnant abdomen and I were getting out of the car after a long day of work. It was dark and I was parked at the bottom of the driveway. As I made my way up to the garage, I slid on a patch of ice, my feet flying behind me and my hands stretching out, trying to break my fall. Unfortunately, even though my hands caught the brunt of the immediate force, I couldn’t help but land smack down on my big old belly.
Cue the terror! I was crying and petrified. My mother was screaming at my father for not salting my driveway. Everyone was in a panic, especially when I had some light spotting the next morning. I was quickly taken to the doctor’s office, where we talked about the chances of placental abruption and whether or not I had permanently injured my child.
My doctor was kind and positive. He told me that everything was going to be okay. But he also ordered that I get a week of bed rest, just to make sure. It was two days before Christmas, and he didn’t want me to bake or wrap presents or walk up the stairs. He wanted to me to “take it as easy as possible.”
And really, that week was my babymoon. I laid on a couch as people brought presents and sat them on my lap. I lounged as my sister brought my plates of bakes treats to snack on. I was the “story-reader in residence” for my niece, who thought it was funny that I was just lying around with nothing better to do. Aside from the terror of possibly hurting my child, it had to be the most relaxing week of my pregnancy, now that I look back on it.
Sure, I didn’t have an island to visit. I didn’t lounge around on a warm beach. But my family might as well have been a paid staff, because they were wonderful and loving enough to take care of me all week long. (I really should have sent ‘Thank You’ notes or something.)
If we’re going to use made-up words like “babymoon” to describe trends that have been going on for years, why not stretch the definition a little to include any rest and relaxation pregnant women get before their bundle of joy arrives? If we’re forced to acknowledge this ridiculous term, let’s at least make it a little more accessible to the average pregnant lady. Babymoons for all! (Minus the medical issues. Pregnant women, please be careful on the ice.)