Years before I was pregnant, or even planning to be pregnant, Matt and I would walk up and down the beach during the summers and instead of looking for shells, we'd point out the chubby little beach babies to each other. "Matt, look at that little bumbler!"
I've always gawked at babies on the beach, with their big floppy hats and the fat rolls on their arms and thighs. During the years we were trying to conceive, admiring the beach babies sometimes felt like a cruel joke.
This year, we had our own addition to the beach bumble population. Bringing a baby to the beach is a lot of work; sand gets in his eyes and mouth, he needs to be completely covered in sunscreen, and we almost always manage to get all our beach gear loaded up right when it's time for Carter's nap.
Despite the chaos, I did get a chance to sit back and stare at Carter sleeping on Matt's chest under the umbrella and think to myself, "We did it."
It was an amazing 5-second wave of satisfaction. And even if we don't get to go back while Carter's this little in the next month or so, we had a baby on the beach. It was awesome.