Many people have asked me what it’s like to be pregnant, with two toddlers, and living on a boat. I’ve been asked numerous times when I would write a post on the subject. But the answer always stumped me. Being pregnant with toddlers on a boat was, to me, just like being pregnant with toddlers in a Boston condo. Except better, obviously, because I was on a boat.
Well, I finally found out why, exactly, it wasn’t the norm. The final two weeks of our cruising season showed me that it is possible to long for a few modern conveniences, especially when pregnant. With toddlers. On a boat. We had two weeks to get our boat from Hope Town, in the Abaco region of the Bahamas, across to Stuart, Florida, where she would begin her summer of repairs, touch-ups and paint job. We were hoping to make a few stops along the way, specifically in Eleuthera and the Berry Islands. This route would also allow us to hit the Gulf Stream going in the optimal direction for a smooth arrival in Stuart.
and still on the following Monday. There was one marina store open, and they had all versions of ibuprofen (not ok for pregnancy) and DayQuil (definitely not ok) available, but no basic Tylenol. I was definitely the sickest I’ve ever been. I’ve always thought the worst cold could never rival a stomach flu, but now I know better. Because when you take the worst cold, add a sinus infection and no meds, and then you leave to sail overnight to your next destination (weather windows wait for no one!) and get massively seasick thanks to being pregnant, then you have truly the perfect storm of pregnancy complaints. Oh and did I mention the UTI?
Thankfully dad was with us and was ready to pull 2 weeks of double-duty![/caption]
We arrived in Spanish Wells the Tuesday morning after Easter, a larger town with an industrial-looking waterfront on the island of Eleuthera. While our first mate was still tying up the dock lines, I hopped off and started walking, asking directions along the way to the medical clinic. I eventually got picked up by a guy who did not necessarily looked like he should have a license, in what looked like a hybrid golf cart-four wheeler and dropped off in front of a small pink building with massive construction happening all around its front. I was waved around back and entered a small hallway, with “delivery ward” written on double doors to the right and “male ward” on the doors to the left. If I knew one thing, it was that I wanted nothing to do with that delivery ward!
I added my name to the list out front, noting that every one of the 15 people waiting ahead of me had the same two last names, then went and sat in the waiting room. My relief at making it to the clinic was dampened by the brain-shattering sounds of drilling from out front, and the fact that the nurses seemed to be taking people in order of friendship and relation, not arrival time. On an island where everyone shares one of 5 last names, this did not bode well for me. Eventually, a long while later, a woman called my name and told me to go pee in a cup. I wandered into the bathroom, where I did find a stack of plastic cups next to the sink…cups I had previously assumed were for drinking out of. I dutifully peed in one. It turned out that my nurse was also the local midwife and she prescribed me some much needed antibiotics for my sinus infection and UTI. She then proceeded to tell me I looked “too small” and insisted on listening to the heart beat. Which was fine, of course. But it meant entering the delivery ward, which was slightly horrifying at this point. I took no pictures here, somehow. I blame the trauma of it all!
finally felt back to normal.
here for the six little things that kept me smiling through the first 6 months.