Ode to Thule

For me, pregnancy was a long, slow slog. With my growing belly and lack of energy, I leadenly retreated from the things I loved to do. I moved slower, and slept longer. I stopped planning outdoor adventures, making art for fun, playing volleyball, and even socializing. As my hobbies faded, I slept in, walked the trails behind our house, and tried to find palatable food. 

Having Heyward felt like waking up from a nine-month hibernation. The dull, dampened fog of pregnancy turned to fierce, burning love for my baby. Emerging from my cave, life felt interesting and exciting again. The colors were more vivid, and the flowers more fragrant. The breeze was crisp, the birds melodic, and the summer sun felt like a warm caress. And though my body felt like it had been taken apart and cobbled back together, movement felt energizing instead of draining.

Perhaps my most important act while reclaiming my zest for life was scouring Facebook Marketplace for a used bike trailer. After a few Reddit posts and biking blogs, I ended up buying the now discontinued Thule Chariot Cougar 2. Heralded by postpartum cyclists as the key to getting outside, I was excited to try it out. I bought it from a nice girl a couple years older than me, along with the jogging stroller, and cross country skiing attachments (I know, right?).

After resuscitating both tires (multiple times), I finally took my mountain bike and trailer out for the inaugural ride. I followed an easy paved trail meandering through neighborhoods and marshes, riding about five miles. Even with two breastfeeding stops, my dismal lung capacity, and no biking shorts, it was the best day ever. 

In the hazy days of breastfeeding around the clock, I remember the first Friday after Heyward’s birth. “I’m so excited for the weekend,” I said. “I’m ready for a break.” Oh wait. 

Being a mom is all-consuming, especially at first. Sleep, basic hygiene, and a clean room become a luxury. Your body feels wobbly and foreign. You’re overstimulated and sleep-deprived, not to mention recovering from the most impressive physical feat of your life. And then you’re supposed to go to the grocery store.

Life with Heyward is different, but better. I get to experience life again through the eyes of a baby– the purest, most curious, innocent eyes possible. And though everything takes twice as long (I’m currently writing this with my non-burping hand), everything feels more exciting. As I watch him grow, I remind myself to savor the breastfeeding stops, the roadside diaper changes, and heavy bike trailer. Because though it feels like forever, someday I’ll miss the inconvenience of being someone’s everything.

Thanks for reading!