Your First (prenatal) Trip to Maine

Dear Baby,

I promise, only a couple more of my ranting stories from pre-blog days until we are caught up to the present. Then, you can instead hear my ranting stories as they occur, in real time! Very exciting.

Let’s go back to Valentines Day weekend—your father and my last Valentines Day without you (odds are they are about to get much less romantic… not that I don’t think having a 4-month old baby will be romantic. Perhaps we can dress you as cupid. Uncle Ben can teach you how to use a bow and arrow. I suspect that he will think 4 months old is an appropriate age for that). Now, the previous Valentines Day (circa 2015) your father and I decided to get married over a steak dinner in Philadelphia. This Valentines Day, that seemed like a rather small event compared to what we know to be coming in September.

Anyway, we had planned a couples retreat “up to camp” (I am not going to clarify, because I know you know what that is) back before we knew about you. Clearly your mother has a tendency to plan extravagant trips and then get pregnant. Oops. The couple brave enough to join us in subzero temperatures with no cell phone service or internet was… can you guess? Orf and Chrissy. The four of us met at the Portland Jetport, and caravanned north, with a pit stop in Auburn to pick up lobster, and a pit stop in Farmington to pick up groceries.

At this point, you had been around for seven weeks. Your father did not want to give Orf and Chrissy advance warning about you, as he wanted to tell them in person, but he did not feel that Hanneford was an appropriate setting. Thus, we were incredibly sketchy at the grocery store.

Chrissy: “Taylor, what do you want for wine?”

Me: “Oh, um… whatever you want, I’m not particular. You don’t need to get that much.”

Chrissy: “Should we get liquor?”

Me: “Nah. We don’t need it. Unless you want it.”

And then…

Orf: “Taylor, what do you like to drink for coffee?”

Me: “Uh… I’m not… I’m not going to have any, whatever you want.”

One skill I have yet to master: the poker face.

In fact, your father and my behavior was so peculiar that Chrissy straight up asked your father when I was not around if I was pregnant. He returned her question with a bold-faced lie (his poker face is much better than mine), and she said, “Do you think she is and hasn’t told you yet?” I find this hilarious. Chrissy’s intuition is not to be meddled with.

Anyway, we bought the groceries, I performed a covert operation where I stayed back to “go to the bathroom,” but really purchased the prenatal vitamins I had forgotten at home in Virginia (another painfully suspicious move). We drove another hour, made it to camp, and I started cooking lobster. When Chrissy opened a bottle of wine and asked if I wanted a glass I finally responded, “I actually won’t be drinking this weekend…”

Chrissy asked, “And why is that?”

And I replied, “Because Tony and I are going to have a baby!”

“I KNEW IT!” she returned.

And the cat was out of the bag.

Both Chrissy and Orf were extremely happy for us, and you. Long before you were born, and even before I became a permanent presence in your father’s life, he was Orf and Chrissy’s official third wheel. They were known as “the trouple.” He has known Orf since childhood, was the best man at their wedding, and gave an epic speech where he declared he would, “never trouple with another couple.” Back in his bachelor days, I believe he practically lived with them. They will tell you stories. Anyway, to hear that your father would be a father made them proud and happy for their little third wheel. They will surely be a large presence in your life, as will any children they may have. Until they do, perhaps you can take your father’s place as the trouple to their couple.

Oh, man. Your father tells me I have a problem going off on tangents. I tell him it’s only because I am super intelligent and am constantly thinking of too many things at once. Usually my writing is more organized but I’m trying to do a stream of conscience thing for you so sometimes I get off track.

The rest of the weekend was record cold. Like, Maine record cold. Again, you just can’t stop bringing all of these records with you. Surely this means that you are going to accomplish a world record of some kind in your life. It might be downhill skiing, because I’m pretty sure you are going to come out of the womb able to ski after having been twice before you were born.

I had a great weekend. I was worried about not being able to join the others in their libations, but I had nothing to worry about. They stayed up, I went to bed early. We took it easy on the slopes, and I ordered hot cocoa at the base lodge while they ordered beer. We only got one snowmobile successfully started since the other one was stuck in the “off” position with a broken key (again, only in this family), so I let the others take turns on the one that was working while I sat cozy by the fire. It’s one of the most relaxing vacations I’ve ever had (as I’m usually in 100% “go” mode on vacation) and it was wonderful. We talked a lot about you, and as we do not yet know your gender Orf started calling you “Baby Chewbacca.” Both he and your father have a strong allegiance to the Star Wars franchise and thanks to Disney taking it over, you might very well inherit this allegiance (and actually know who Chewbacca is). I think it’s a cute nickname for now but I promise, girl or boy, that will not be your actual name.

Orf and Chrissy left a day earlier than your father and I because we had some business to attend to: a pit stop to see your Great Grandmother Leavitt, who will not be known to you as anything other than “Gram,” as she is affectionately known to nearly everyone at this point. And THAT is something that I am going to have to hold off on until next time.

Love,

Mom

Annddd this is Sugarloaf. A mountain you are sure to become familiar with.
It's hard to tell who is who in these pictures. As I said, we were in severe subzero temperatures. The facemasks were a necessity.
I even braved the frigid air to take my gloves off and take a picture at the top of the mountain.
Top Picture: your father is far left, Orf is in the middle, Chrissy on the right.
Botttom Left: From the left: Orf, me, and Dad. Bottom Right: Dad

Upper Left: Chrissy and I passed out after a long day of skiing. I believe it is approximately 5PM.
Upper Right: Dad by the fire place in his old man suspender snowpants.
Lower Left: Dad and Orf just being themselves.
Lower Right: Uncle Ben's venison stash from a buck he shot this fall. Chrissy is holding the heart. YUM.

Upper Left: Deer at the Coplin Plantation. Chrissy artistically captured your father in the rear view mirror.
Upper Right: The one lonely snowmobile that effectively started.
Lower Left: We are convinced that Grandpa Steve signed up for a modeling gig and didn't tell us.
Either that or we have found his doppelganger.
Lower Right: Delicious lobster dinner. One day, I shall teach you how to shell a lobster, like I did for Orf and Chrissy.

To prove that again, this was a record cold weekend, above is a snapshot of the weather.
And Sunday was NOT the coldest day of the weekend. And -18 was the actual temperature, not the "feels like" temperature.
Oh yes, and that's Chewbacca on the left, "Episode 5: Empire Strikes Back."