Being the planner that I am, when I was pregnant with Charlie, I booked two nights at a bed and breakfast for my husband and I, for right around when I’d be about 22 weeks along. But three days before we were supposed to leave for a couple of days of rest and relaxation, the perinatologists gave us the news that’d change our lives.

Our first instinct was to cancel our getaway. How could we enjoy ourselves, knowing our baby wasn’t going to live? So we contacted the bed and breakfast owner, and after explaining our situation, she offered to send our deposit back to us. But, at the last minute, we decided that getting out of our house and disconnecting for a few days was just what we needed.


It wasn’t the babymoon I had envisioned. On the first night, in our lovely guest room, one of the top pediatric cardiac surgeons in the country called us from San Francisco to talk to us about fetal surgery options. We cried for hours after that. The next day, I did my best to cover up my bump, but at dinner, we were bombarded with questions from a well-meaning server. Is this your first? Are you SO excited? When are you due? It was awful. But, as we headed back into town the next day, we both agreed that we were happy that we decided to get away and turn off our phones for the weekend.

While we didn’t feel quite up to any sort of big getaway during this pregnancy, we were both feeling the urge to get away, even for one night. So we decided on one night in a nearby-ish town. We got dinner and a hotel room. We took a walk by the river and talked about things other “normal” pregnant couples talk about. But, we also talked about how eerily similar the weather was to our last babymoon. And we thought about Charlie. How he’s supposed to be here now. And if we was here, we wouldn’t have been on the trip in the first place.

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