In the first couple months you sort of keep your plans to yourself, not wanting to have to tell people if the cruise doesn't work out. You're excited, of course, but it hardly seems real at first. The nausea doesn't hit until significantly later with the boat (probably the entire first week we're at sea). You start telling more people as time wears on (first your parents, then your friends, then your boss) and everyone wants to hear about your plans. And what do they ask, without fail? "Do you have a name yet?"
You spend anywhere between 9 months and years preparing. At first it doesn't seem like much is going on, but things get really exciting in the last couple months before your Due/Departure Day. Pictures of baby bellies and finished bottom paint start coming faster, and everyone wants to touch it.
While you may not have had a boat "shower" (which I'd totally do if I had this to plan again), all gift-giving occasions are an excuse for friends and family to "shower" you with gifts. Clothes, games, and necessary accessories that will make your lives a little easier.
D-Day is a little up in the air. Sure, you have a date in mind, but it might come a little sooner, maybe a little later. Everything is packed and ready to go, it's just a question of when your baby/boat is ready. Your friends and family want to be there, and be a part of it.
As you make this big life transition you may find that you no longer see much of your old friends. You keep different hours then them, and it seems like all you have to talk about is your baby/boat. You get new friends, boating/parent friends, because maybe your old friends aren't too interested in hearing about your breastfeeding schedule or which particular WEST System epoxy you used on your centerboard. Maybe some people unfriend you on Facebook or unfollow you on Instagram because they're sick of the pictures you post. Yeah, fine, she's beautiful to you, but you have to think that, and everyone else might not feel the same.
Once you set sail/give birth you and your significant other will sleep and eat in shifts, and not sleep nearly as much as you'd like. You'll spend more time then you ever thought possible figuring out where to put poop, having discussed at length your preferred method (cloth diapers or disposable? chemical toilet or bucket?) and eventually realize that everything is easier if you're just flexible. You stop working out, because who has time for that anymore? And all that disposable income you had before has to be carefully set aside, because what if the boat needs work or your kid wants to go to college or something?
There are days, maybe weeks, when things are rough, and you feel like you're just barely hanging on. You and your significant other might find yourselves fighting more than usual, arguing pointlessly about the right way to feed the baby/trim the sail. You wonder why you agreed to this, thinking life was so much easier before. And then . . .
Something magic happens. You find yourself anchored off a nearly deserted island somewhere between the Bahamas and the Caribbean, drinking a fruity rum drink, watching the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen. Earlier in the day you found wifi and saw on Facebook that all your friends had to work today, while you had steady 20 knot winds and smooth seas.
Or, you know, your baby smiles at you or whatever.
And, in that moment, you know it was all worth it, and you wouldn't change a thing.
*Disclaimer - I don't have a baby, and I don't know anything about babies (except that they have soft spots that are basically like the launch button for a nuclear weapon - you don't touch it) but I love that my beautiful friends are having beautiful babies and please don't stop posting pictures because they're very cute and I like hearing about your sleep schedules. Really.
"Yeah, no, I'd prefer it if you wouldn't touch my boat, thanks."
