I Went on a Couples Retreat For My Babymoon. What Could Go Wrong?

It's an unusually overcast day in Arizona. In the distance, the Catalina Mountains are almost entirely obscured by clouds, and I'm holding a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, with my gaze transfixed on a neon green sticky note with the words "strength" and "self confidence" scribbled on it. I'm also 26 weeks pregnant.

My husband, Rob, and I are staying at Miraval Arizona as part of a sort of hybrid couples-retreat babymoon. We're in the middle of the wellness resort's Way of the Archer activity, and the instructor asked us to jot something down on the sticky note to use as a target for the final exercise in the session.

I end up with a collection of arrows near and around the sticky note, but not on it. Although, I will say, that's not bad for someone now carrying a spaghetti squash in their womb, if my app is to be believed.

Anthropologist and natural childbirth activist Sheila Kitzinger is credited with first using the term "babymoon" in her 1994 book "The Year After Childbirth." Kitzinger used it to describe the bonding period that may follow a baby's arrival, but in recent years, it's become a somewhat expected celebration for expecting parents, like a baby shower.

Anytime we've traveled anywhere during pregnancy, people have asked Rob and me if we're going on our babymoon. In most cases, we were just visiting family or going on a work trip while also pregnant. Truthfully, we could have been going up the street to Walgreens and someone would be like, "Aw! Babymoon time?" But then again, a babymoon is what you make of it — whether it's a staycation or "hatchelorette" with friends — and for our official babymoon, we went to the desert.

Miraval first opened in Tucson in 1995. It's been previously described to Popsugar as the "gateway drug" to wellness travel, and celebrity guests have included everyone from Oprah Winfrey to the Real Housewives of Orange County. The resort chain has since opened additional locations in Austin and the Berkshires in Massachusetts, with a fourth property set to open in Saudi Arabia, on the Red Sea, later this year.

Miraval consists of 146 casita-style rooms, suites, and villas. The starting nightly rate is a steep $1,299, but included in that cost are as many meals as one would like, most activities, and, of course, accommodations. Activities range from physical feats, like tightrope courses and yoga, to mental, emotional, and even metaphysical matters. (The astral projections session comes to mind.)

I always envisioned my babymoon taking place on a beach somewhere. My days would be filled with cabana naps, moderate tan lines, and comical amounts of coconut sorbet. But that isn't, of course, what ended up happening; when I was presented with the opportunity to productivity-hack my babymoon with a hyper-optimized couples retreat brimming with wellness activities, I took it. It's the overachieving millennial way, I suppose.

My Experience Doing a Prenatal Couples Retreat at Miraval Arizona

This babymoon required a good deal of planning beyond booking flights and accommodations. The couples retreat is one of many "journeys" offered at Miraval, but it's not specifically designed with expecting couples in mind, and so, in the weeks leading up to the trip, we were emailing with Miraval's concierge team to customize the itinerary. Ultimately, we landed on a mix of activities and treatments that would overlap enough to foster quality time, while also leaving room for the beauty of being alone.

This meant the duration of our three-night stay was fairly busy. After landing in Tucson International and making the hour drive to the resort, we kicked things off with a brief tour followed promptly by dinner at Miraval's main restaurant, Cactus Flower. Our busy travel day ended with massages at the Life in Balance Spa.

Day two began with the archery class. Over the course of two hours, Rob and I learned to release arrow after arrow, each of us falling into a meditative flow state, and occasionally reminding the other about the correct posture and techniques.

After, we parted ways. Rob rested in the room while I attended Prenatal Aqua Zen. It's hard to describe, but the private session entailed me floating for about an hour as a practitioner gently cradled and carried me through an empty pool. The sensation conveyed to me what my daughter must be feeling inside of me right now, or at least something like it. I felt so surreally connected to her in that moment, I teared up. I'm sure I'm not the first.

Now, despite the intentional calmness at the heart of Miraval, I also encountered moments of unintentional comedy. Wellness travel, in general, isn't without its smirky, eye-roll moments. That's the very basis of shows like "White Lotus" and "Nine Perfect Strangers," after all.

One such moment happened that very afternoon as I rushed to make it to a butt-targeting workout I mistakenly thought was taking place somewhere called the Agave Center. I stumbled into the packed fitness studio, huffing and puffing as I scanned all the prompt students already seated on their yoga mats. "Is this glute strength?" I sheepishly asked the instructor. "Yoga for grief," she replied.

I recounted the story to Rob when I bumped into him shortly after, on my way to find the correct meeting point for glute strength, and we laughed and laughed at my faux pas.

On our final day, we woke up before the sun to make the Wings of the Southwest birdwatching session at 6 a.m. I nearly bailed, but it was one that Rob was excited about, so I forced myself out of bed, knowing I'd regret making us miss the activity.

For about two hours, we leisurely hiked around the property with binoculars, taking note of any birds we spotted: mostly cardinals and finches but some other cool ones I've unfortunately forgotten the names of. I'll admit I'm not really a bird person, so some of the magic might have been lost on me, but these are the things you do for the person you love, I suppose.

Our morning of birdwatching was followed by an afternoon among horses. Over the course of two hours, an equine specialist taught us to perform basic tasks, like brushing a horse and cleaning its hoof. That was all just a front, however. Really, we were observing our own patterns and communication methods.

I was eager to brush the horse, an impressive Clydesdale. Lifting its hoof to pick at the grooves, however? Less so. Because I have people-pleasing tendencies (some might call it "star student syndrome"), it took some time for me to assert myself and share that boundary, although I ultimately was able to make it clear that I would only be brushing the horse. And guess what? No one cared or thought I was any less brave.

Rob, meanwhile, had his own aha moment when he went to lift the horse's foot to clean the hoof, and that horse did not budge. Rob gently caressed the horse, and our instructor pointed out how that might actually cause miscommunication: the horse didn't do the requested task, so why was it effectively being rewarded? Instead, Rob needed to try again.

With a lot still left to mull over from the prior few days, we decided to skip Pilates that afternoon. Instead, we sat by the pool, and I got through the remaining 20 pages of Ottessa Moshfegh's thrilling and strange "Eileen." The book made me jumpy, and on the way to dinner, I freaked when we saw a baby Western diamondback rattlesnake slither across the walkway. Peace was restored, however, when we ended the day with one last visit to the spa for facials.

Final Thoughts

Back at home, I was both relieved and a little bummed to know I was done traveling for the remainder of my pregnancy. I'd be starting my third trimester in two weeks and it was time to get serious about nesting. Plus, I was tired.

During the Miraval trip, I was starting to grapple with the realities of my changing form. I'm normally pretty active, but during our birdwatching walk, I found myself trailing behind. My back was starting to ache on a regular basis and my feet were swollen. My body was telling me it was time to go home and stay there.

Even as I felt fatigue settle in, I was grateful for the opportunity to bond and grow before baby. The shared activities, namely archery and equine therapy, were especially fruitful, and it was just nice being more present: Miraval has a policy against phones in most shared spaces, and though we're not the type to mindlessly scroll at the dinner table, it's easy to get distracted by momentary glances down at the screen.

Fully unplugged, however, we daydreamed about our daughter. We shared hopes and anxieties about the coming chapter, and, when we didn't feel like talking, we enjoyed the silence. Life would soon get a little louder, after all.

Kelsey Garcia (she/her) is the lifestyle director at PS, where she oversees coverage across Balance and Fitness & Health. Kelsey is passionate about travel, wellness trends, and evolving parenting styles. Before joining the PS team as an editorial assistant in 2015, she interned at Elle and Harper's Bazaar, among other publications.