Before The Migration

Aug 20

4 min read

In November, I started having dreams about humpback whales. I felt like they were calling me, and I kept telling my husband that I needed to go see them.

I did some research, and when I realized that I could see the whales in Costa Rica, somewhere I had already been wanting to take my family, I knew we were going.

Within a few weeks, I put down deposits for a jungle resort right on the Golfo Dulce, a warm gulf where humpback whales from Antarctica and the Southern Hemisphere migrate to give birth.

I knew the trip would be life-changing, but I couldn't tell you why.

I just knew the whales were calling me.

We got back from our trip two weeks ago.

After almost nine months of waiting, I finally got to go see the whales.

What happened with a mama and her calf felt less like an excursion and more like a spiritual encounter I had spent nine months being led toward.

We sat in the boat and watched this mama and baby for almost half an hour. I had tears streaming down my face, and it just felt like everything had led me up to this moment.

Our guide came up to the front of the boat to tell us more about these particular whales.

She explained that these mamas undertake their migration relying largely on the reserves they built in their feeding grounds. They travel thousands of miles pregnant to the warm waters of the Golfo Dulce, where they give birth, breastfeed, and teach their calves how to be before eventually making the enormous migration back toward the feeding grounds.

They do all of this largely from what they carried in with them.

As our guide finished telling us this, the mama popped her head up just enough to look directly at us.

There's no other way to describe what I felt in that moment than:

“Did you get the message?”

And then it was like the spell broke.

Before mama and baby swam off, they both raised their fins at the same time to wave goodbye to us.

It was an initiation.

That much I am certain of.

An initiation into what was the question.

After we left the whales, we were taken to see dolphins on another side of the gulf. Hundreds of dolphins surrounded the boat, playing in our wake and jumping in actual joy. Even the dolphin calves were attempting their leaps into the air next to their mothers.

Our whale-watching trip was only on day two out of six at our remote jungle lodge.

Over the next few days, the rain provided so many blissful opportunities to just be present. There was so much to take in. The whale's message was on my mind, and yet I was more than content listening to the sounds of the jungle and reading my book.

And throughout our week, as we found presence at every turn, we were shown more mamas and their babies, each with their own unique struggles and sacrifices, and each with their own strength and resilience.

My husband has been ready for another baby for a while, and every time we'd see another mama, he would just look at me with this look that said:

“You know they're here for you.”

It would have been easy in those moments of presence to just lean in and say yes.

And yet, there was something I knew I needed to understand within the whale's message.

I have used the term “feeling squeezed” to describe life lately.

I feel absolutely blessed AND I also know that a new path is unfolding and we are being molded to meet that path.

It is not a passive experience.

We are actively choosing where we want life to take us.

But there is grief.

There is discomfort.

There is frustration.

And I could run from it. I could placate it.

Instead, I am sitting in it.

And slowly, I started to understand the whale's message.

Reserves. Preparation. Capacity.

A humpback whale does not begin her migration while pregnant and then wonder whether she has prepared enough for the journey.

She carries what she needs with her.

Enough nourishment.

Enough strength.

Enough reserve.

She doesn't begin building those things when the demand arrives.

She enters the season carrying them.

And as I feel squeezed by life with new paths unfolding, as I contemplate a third baby, as I look at the life I want to build and the reality I want to manifest, I am realizing that I don't need to know exactly what I'm preparing for in order to prepare.

I don't want to wait until the migration begins to wonder whether I've built enough reserves.

Because right now is for me.

For building my reserves.

There's a difference between knowing the lesson, knowing what the outcome will be, and actually integrating it.

I don't have all the answers.

I have spent years learning how to nourish myself.

But Costa Rica left little doubt for me that nourishment does not equal reserves.

Because I can pour endlessly into myself and still never build reserves if everything I pour in immediately gets spent.

Reserves require something to remain.

And for right now, working on my reserves is starting to look like:

Sitting down with my cup of tea instead of drinking it while I do things.
Not pouring energy into every idea I have, and letting each thing wait for its season.
Ending my day with energy left over instead of feeling like I gave everything possible.
Sitting in my discomfort, allowing myself to feel without needing to solve.
Putting my energy into things that give back more than they cost.