I'll be honest. Moving to Alaska was not an easy decision and even though we are here now, it still doesn't feel quite "right" in a way. After going back and forth for months about whether to stay in Tacoma or move up to Alaska, it ultimately made the most sense to move up here, primarily for medical care financial reasons, but leaving Tacoma felt really bad for a lot of other reasons.
In almost every other decision I've made, I've been the sole person involved. It's easy that way, because the decision affects me and no one else, so it really simplifies the decision making process and how I feel after making the decision is very straightforward. This was one decision that really makes me feel like I made the right decision logically, but I know that it affects Dan much more negatively than me. My job is mobile, Anchorage is my hometown, my family lives here, my medical care is affordable here. For Dan, he's leaving a place he grew up, all his friends, his job, the house we bought and cared for. So my confidence that I made the right decision for my medical care and pregnancy/newborn support is twinged with a lot of guilt and heartache surrounding what feels like tearing my husband away from a place he very much loves. And while I know that it was a decision we made together, I feel a lot of responsibility for causing the move.
And, to be frank, it doesn't feel like a move "up," if you will. We are living with my parents, which, at 30 years old, isn't #lifegoals, if you know what I mean. We are living in an apartment above their garage, so we have our own separate living space, but there's still that feeling of, well, failure I suppose, in a way. Going from being independent homeowners to moving back to the house I lived in growing up, it's not easy.
I want to feel independent and grown up. I know that this time is in many ways a cocoon for me, and maybe both of us. And I feel so so so grateful to have a family that can provide a cocoon for us as we make this transition to parenthood. I'm trying to choose to be positive and seeing this time as a true cocoon time, where we will inevitably emerge stronger that we were before, more independent, and more equipped and able to be the best parents we can, in a financial situation that allows us to move "up." Ideally a cocoon isn't somewhere to stay forever, and it's also not a place where you revert back to your caterpillar self. I'm trying to keep that in mind as we enter this somewhat uncomfortable space of being cocooned. I imagine a caterpillar feels a bit uncomfortable, going from being able to scrunch around freely to being all wrapped up and stuck in a cocoon for who knows how long. And not knowing what he'll look like, what life will be like when he emerges. I feel that way very much. The uncomfortability of not knowing what life will look like as a parent, how we'll cope with it, how I'll be able to be a businesswoman, wife, and mom all at once (even though I know it's more than possible based on how many amazing ladies I see doing it).
People's lives on the internet can seem all insta-perfect and wonderful, but that's never the whole story. While I feel a plethora of mixed emotions about moving, pregnancy, parenthood, and more, I'm doing my best to focus my attention on staying positive and having a great attitude through all the change that we're dealing with, because really it's one of the few things I do have control over. Doing my best to take this in stride and take each day as it comes.
