A Moment for Motherhood and Mountains

There was a moment in Wyoming when I realized I wanted to be a mom.  I mean, I always knew I wanted to have kids, but this was the day I realized something bigger.

It was the summer after D and I got engaged.  I had commitments (including my own bridal shower) that required me to shorten my climbing trip out west, so I flew out to meet my adventure-partner-in crime, Meg, in Ten Sleep, Wyoming for a few weeks.

He made me clean his route before he proposed...

The summer before, D, Meg and I had circled through Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, and Colorado for a month and half of camping, climbing, and taking massive rest day hikes. I started leading routes that felt bold and exciting to me, pushing my limits and feeling the rush of adrenaline balance with the zen of finding that flow.  I was sending, taking big whips, and going for it. I fell completely in love with Ten Sleep Canyon.

The climb that lit a fire in me for taking the lead...

This time, I wanted all of that again.  But everything felt different.  I was struggling to climb routes I had lead the year before.  I was over-gripping in fear of falling, I was opting to top-rope instead of leading, I was backing off climbs that should have been warm-ups.  I was frustrated, distracted and stuck in my own head.

The moment came to me slowly at first, but then quickly became heavy, real and unavoidable.

We hiked up to a route I had lead and loved the summer before.  I pretended to be psyched to lead it again.  I started to rope up...and then I started crying.  Meg asked what was wrong, told me it's ok, encouraged me to sit it out and regroup.  I mumbled a bunch of nothing about how I couldn't focus and was scared and frustrated.  Then I sat and stared out at the canyon.

A view that can crack you wide open

I talked with Meg and a fellow climber as we packed up our gear.  He asked, "Are you worried about getting married?"  I had an easy and immediate answer to that, "No!  I'm excited!"  He asked, "But are you worried things will change when you get married?"  I explained that wasn't it either, that D and I are passionate about the same things, that we want the same lifestyle.  He looked at me quietly for a minute.  Then he said, "You want kids, don't you..."  That was it. "That will definitely change things."  It all sank in...and I felt lighter.

I need these moments. Moments in wide-open canyons, in the mountains, roped up to a good friend, crying to strangers, in conversations around campfires. These moments bring me to think deeply, dream big and love fiercely. I need to go to extremes, to live big and to be fully immersed in the things I love to be the best version of myself. And I was battling with the possibility that I might have to let this all go.

Then, the bigger realization. These are the moments I want for my children. I wanted to be a mom, but more than anything, I wanted to be a mom that loves her life because she didn't leave it behind in the wake of motherhood. I wanted to be a mom that teaches her kids to live passionately by example and not through old photos or stories from a past life.   

Back on lead and projecting to end the second trip

As we prepare to welcome our second child into the world, I feel ready to push on as a family of four.  I still dream big of cross-country road trips, summers in canyons, deserts and mountains, days of throwing myself at rock, roping up for heart-pounding leads, bathing in icy rivers, spending night after night under the stars, sitting around the campfire and crawling into a sleeping bag happily layered with dirt and exhaustion.  These dreams are the blueprint for whats ahead, I do not doubt it at all anymore.  I intend on turning these dreams into very real moments for myself, and my whole little family, for a very long time.

Thank you, Wyoming.

Meg watching the last of the sun across the canyon before another head-lamp-hike out