34 Weeks and No More Travel

Today marks 34 weeks into my pregnancy, and the real milestone now is that I’m no longer cleared for travel.  From this point forward, everyone wants me to stick close to home.  And that’s fine by me really – there’s nothing appealing about getting on a plane or going for a long car ride right now.

Last February, a group of my friends and Jason traveled to Florida to see the last scheduled night launch of the space shuttle.  I opted not to go, and I regretted it miserably.  I’m a NASA buff and love all things Apollo-era-related in particular.  I was extraordinarily sad to miss the launch but even more upset to miss seeing the museum and landmarks.  I was positively green every time Jason called to tell me about the trip.  I made a vow that I’d go see one of the final space shuttle launches the following year.

And here we are, the final launch scheduled for April 29.  A group of friends, including possibly Jason, is planning to travel to see it.  I just can’t.  Even if I could tolerate the seven hour car trip and the inconveniences therein, my doctor would never support me being so far away just a few weeks before my due date.  Heartbroken again.

There’s a great love story that comes out of this, though, and I can’t pass up an opportunity to share it.

When Jason returned from the NASA viewing trip last year, he was wise enough not to come home empty-handed.  Upon his arrival at the house, he doled out half of the museum gift shop in an effort to make me feel better about missing the trip.  And when he was done playing space-age Santa, we curled up to chat about his travels.  I tried not to be annoyed that someone who couldn’t even name half of the Mercury astronauts has gone on this adventure while I had stayed home.

After he ran through their itinerary from each day and what he’d enjoyed most about the museum, he asked me a weird question.

“What was your favorite Apollo mission?”

I told him that was an odd question.  How could someone have a favorite?

“Don’t think about it,” he said, “Just go with your gut answer.”

“Apollo 8.”

“Why?”

I sighed.  This really seemed like a silly game.  “The typical answer would be Apollo 11,” I told him, “Obviously.  And there are things that are fascinating about Appolo 13, and I’ve always liked the crew that flew Apollo 12.  But I think Apollo 8 was the best.”

He pressed me again for why.

“There was a scheduling problem,” I told him, “They had to change around what flights would accomplish which missions because the LEM – the lunar module – wasn’t ready in time.  So, the Apollo 8 crew wound up being the first to prove that we could take a vessel all the way to the moon and return safely home, which I think was the biggest hurdle to overcome before a moonwalk.  So, it was an important mission.  And the crew – the crew was all-star material.  Frank Borman commanded with Jim Lovell as his right hand, and those are two of my favorite astronauts.”

I may have gone on for a while about Susan Borman and Marilyn Lovell, who are my two favorite astronaut wives, but that’s a post for another day.

When he asked what else, I told him, “The mission flew during Christmas in 1968.  And 1968 was sort of a crap year for the United States.  Vietnam was gearing up, and Reverend King and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated.  It was the year of the craziness at the Democratic Convention in Chicago.  And here, at the end of the year, there was this great mission when three men traveled all the way to the moon and back.  They were like the saving grace of 1968 – they represented some hope for the future during a dark time.”

I paused.  I was enjoying myself.  Jason doesn’t usually take much of an interest in this space stuff, and this was a nice opportunity to play the role of teacher.  And the more I talked, the more I realized that his question wasn’t so silly after all.

“Besides, they have the best mission patch of the whole Apollo series.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Every Apollo flight had its own patch design,” I explained, “And this one was really neat and simple.  It just had a picture of the earth and of the moon with a figure eight around them, because that was the trajectory that the space craft took.  But it also makes the number eight.  Just kind of cool the way it worked out.”

At that moment, Jason reached into his bag and pulled out my last gift.  It was a replica patch from the Apollo 8 mission.

I was stunned. “Do you have 12 more patches in there?” I asked, incredulous.  He said no.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“I guessed,” he shrugged, “When I learned about it, it seemed like one you would like.”

And at that moment, I felt better about missing the trip.  To discover that my husband of so many years could still surprise me and know me so well was better than seeing the museums and landmarks and the launch.

I’m sad to miss this year’s trip, too, but not nearly as filled with regret as last time.  In 2010, I missed the night launch because I put work concerns and my own convenience ahead of going.  Too much was happening at the office, and the launch was too likely to need to be scrubbed and rescheduled to risk the extra vacation days.  In retrospect, those were silly priorities.  I should have just gone and enjoyed a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

This time is different.  I’m missing the launch, but not because I’m putting work first.  This time, I’m putting my health and my baby’s well-being first.  A year ago, I couldn’t have known how different 2011 would be, how excited we would be to be starting a family.  I’ll still make it to the Kennedy Space Center one of these days, but I’ll have my son with me.  And hopefully I’ll have a captive audience to tell funny stories about Al Shepherd having to relieve himself in his space suit during his first space flight or Al Bean breaking the video camera on Apollo 12.  Maybe my son will be as fascinated with spaceships and astronauts and the moon as I am.  And that will totally be worth it to miss the launch.