We’re in the midst of planning a two month trip to Greece when we find out we we’re pregnant. Technically, it’s just Sona, but this “we” being pregnant is how you’re supposed to phrase it, to convey unity, even though I’m not the one with morning sickness.
We try to rationalize how it’s no big deal to be two months pregnant and stay in a cave, in an area known for being in the path of an active volcano, or how going up and down the steps of Santorini on a donkey is totally normal. “I bet pregnant women in Santorini do it all the time,” I say with much confidence. The case is dismissed. Clearly, we need to work on this whole unity thing.
It is a difficult decision to axe our mini adventure because it signifies our official entrance into the world of being responsible adults. We’re in our early 30s, we shouldn’t have to think about things like that. I bet we’re still on some mailing lists for warehouse parties in Brooklyn and San Francisco. Pretty sure.
A few weeks after the only way I know how to travel goes splat, Sona introduces me to the term, “Baby Moon.” The way most parenting websites define it, it’s your last opportunity to spend time as a couple before the baby arrives and everything goes to hell. Except the magic of life and all that. We’ll keep you updated on how that goes. It’s a very depressing way of looking at it. I’d rather look at it for what it is: a lovely new beginning, a chance to introduce a little human being to the world through our eyes.
Then Sona brings up the idea of a fucking all-inclusive resort and the “everything goes to hell” part makes perfect sense. When Sona first brought up the idea of an all inclusive resort package in the Dominican Republic for the baby moon, I thought she was making one of those American jokes she sometimes makes. I laugh. I even hold my belly to indulge her. Then terror strikes at my core. We do some research on alternatives, but ultimately I am faced with a terrible dilemma. Go on an all-inclusive. Or sit at home.
After much research, we decided on Majestic Elegance Resort in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic, which we bought from Costco of all places, along with a year’s supply of butter (not really). Mainly because it seemed like a good deal. And we’re all about good deals. The flying time was short. The deal: $699 for flights per person, including taxes, transportation to and from airport (no public transportation for us fancy people!), a fancy room, with a beach, two swimming pools, cabanas, all within steps of our room. Restaurants of all sorts, and alcohol is included. While Sona eats for two, I’ll be drinking for two.
This is the strangest Deciding to Go post because technically we’re traveling to a different country. If we did lists of places, we could scratch off the Dominican Republic. But really there will be no cultural immersion, not any sights, not even Dominican food, unless it’s some watered down resort food. It’s more about me and Sona having a relaxing holiday. If we’d put in a bit more effort, I’m sure we could have planned something with a bit more of an adventure. But I’m oddly looking forward to not doing anything and just hanging out. Still. This isn’t the end of days is it?
Short url: http://goo.gl/hgNCeH
Anyone been on a baby moon?