Sean and I snuck a little trip in to Indian Creek. Sadly we missed “Dash Days” the weekend memorial climbing trip for Micah Dash. We found ourselves scrambling to finish chores in Boulder and knew we would not be back. But I did climb some beautiful cracks with him in mind- and his spirit was lingering in the place he loved so well.
The desert worked its magic on me this time. It was a brief trip, but somehow the deep red enveloped me like it did the first time in 1999. We met up with Emily Stifler and a crew of people that only deepened the red. Writers, climbers, old friends, and ones I’ve been trying to get to know for years- gathering as if we’ve been neighbors for 50 years- providing that instant community the climbing life is so good for.
It was a different sort of climbing trip for me being six months pregnant. I was there to soak up some time in flip flops, help Sean decompress from his ski guiding exam (which he passed! yeah!), and get a few rides on top ropes. There was absolutely no agenda. The need to test my fitness on old haunts like Fingers in a Light Socket or Sweden Ringle was so far beyond my purpose. Instead I got to giggle with women, get advice about how to bring my baby to the crag, and maintain a little fitness hauling an extra twenty pounds up five tens.
It was sad to leave. But I was so filled up- realizing at this enormous turn in my life- that I have chosen well to be a climber and that I will never not be one. The people are so good, the activity so fulfilling, and the places so endearing that I have been on an inevitable journey of growth fueled by love and balance, friendship and integrity.
Twenty four (and a half) weeks.
I’ve emerged from first trimester shock and am finally feeling human again- and could not be more thrilled to be starting a mini family. It took a little while to let the shock wear off- that I would not be going to Patagonia or the Waddington Range or Pakistan this year- instead I’d be nesting and nursing and working my butt off in a coffee shop. It might seem like a pill to swallow- finally finishing my IFMGA training, then finding it necessary to become a barista- but I couldn’t be more grateful. I am a resident of Canada now- which allows me to qualify for maternity leave (providing I put in those coffee slinging hours at the Zephyr cafe). Go Canada. I have the most supportive fiance one could imagine- I think he’s made for this (don’t tell him I told you that). And to top it all off, I have a little man growing inside of me who kicks and rolls and has all his fingers and toes. Its a pretty fun adventure. Not without its tribulations of course. You have to manage to navigate around all of the pregnancy “experts” who love to tell you about all of the horrible things you are subjecting your fetus too- like moving your bed and camomile tea and (the timid should now stop reading) forgetting a day of prenatal vitamins. The horror. And there is some truth to the whole swelling legs for pregnant women on their feet all day. Oh, to be guiding again and actually have some blood flowing through my veins. But, there are some definite pluses. Like excuses- the pregnancy excuse is awesome. Try crossing the street with a pregnant belly- all of the cars stop- and don’t even yell at you for j-walking. People bring flowers for your birthday party instead of wine that disappears that very night, and you get to eat more. Be careful about this one though- its a trap.
But truly we’re having a blast and psyched to see ourselves and the world through the eyes of our child. There is nothing like it so far and he hasn’t even popped out yet.
