The Duality of Motherhood & Why I Still Chase Big Adventures

By Julie Bacon

Before I ever saw two pink lines, I’d watched enough women around me navigate pregnancy to know one thing for sure: I wanted to do this on my own terms.

I wasn’t interested in shrinking my life to fit inside someone else’s narrative of what pregnancy “should” look like. I wanted boundaries that felt like mine. I wanted to keep doing the things I loved. And I went in with the mindset of: nothing can stop me.

Did pregnancy humble me? Absolutely. There were days I traded mountain biking, workouts, and backpacking for eye gels and the couch. But the belief that I could still be me—still get outside, still move my body, still feel that spark—kept me grounded through the entire journey.

And when it came to parenthood, my husband and I agreed: we’d keep chasing the things that lit us up—travel, powder days, nights under the stars—only now with a tiny co-pilot in tow. We reminded ourselves that if we could do it before, we could figure out how to do it with a baby.

The Adventure That Shaped Me

The summer before I got pregnant, I rode the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route from Mexico to Canada—one of the biggest adventures of my life. It pushed me harder mentally and physically than anything I’d ever done. It gave me freedom I didn’t even know I was craving. It cemented how much I need those long stretches of disconnect, those wildgirl moments on dirt with my friends, to feel like myself.

So when I finished breastfeeding at 6 months, I planned a San Juan hut-to-hut bikepacking trip with a group of girlfriends. Two hundred fifty miles to celebrate the year of giving birth, the return to myself, and all the emotions that come with adding a new human to a family.

I trained all summer. I was fired up. I was ready.

Then the Anxiety Arrived

As the date got closer, something shifted. Anxiety crept in—soft at first, then loud. I had never left my daughter for more than one night. She’d be nine months old when I set off. I’d be gone ten days.

The questions started:

Would she forget about me?
What if I couldn’t handle being away?
What if she needed me in a way I couldn’t show up for from a mountain pass?

I was lucky to have my friend Bryn on the trip—my pregnancy buddy—who was also leaving her baby for the first time. We leaned on each other a lot. And with no service, it was a full disconnect from our babies, which was both a gift and a gut punch.

On day five, I woke up with my period and the homesickness hit hard. I cried. I stared at photos of my daughter. My heart felt like it lived in two places.

And yet…I was also having the time of my life. The climbs, the jokes, the naked river dips, the long stretches of trail that felt like flying. The trip was everything I needed.

The Part No One Warned Me About

What I did not expect was her reaction when I got home.

I ran toward her in the driveway, ready for the movie-moment reunion. Instead, she cried and ran to my husband. For days she rejected me—confused, hurt, processing in the only way a baby knows how.

It was devastating. I questioned everything:

Was the trip worth it?
Did I do something wrong?
Did I break something between us?

It took time, but she came back around. We settled into ourselves again. Things healed. And she has never reacted like that since.

But I’ll be honest: that moment stuck. It created a little pocket of fear I still have to work through when planning a trip. It’s part of motherhood I didn’t expect—the way joy and guilt can sit right next to each other.

Holding Both Things

For me, this has been one of the most surprising lessons of motherhood:
I need time to myself. And I love my daughter so deeply it hurts. Both can be true.

The Mothership shows moms getting after it. Moms chasing their passion. Moms choosing themselves and their families.

But I also think it’s important to talk about the duplicity of it all—the emotional whiplash, the questioning, the discomfort. This stuff isn’t a sign you’re doing it wrong. It’s a sign you’re human.

Whether it's a 10-day bikepacking trip or an hour at the gym, taking time for yourself can feel both essential and complicated.

So here’s my reminder to you, and to myself every time:
Be kind. You’re figuring it out. We all are.

Tips for Taking Time for Yourself (Without Spiraling)

Here are a few things I learned the hard way:

1. Prep your kid and your partner: Talk about routines, comfort items, nap tricks—anything that sets everyone up for success.
2. Name your anxiety instead of fighting it: Saying “I’m scared she’ll be upset with me” takes the power out of the feeling.
3. Find your “Bryn:" Having someone on the trip who gets it makes a huge difference.
4. Build in intentional check-ins—for you: Journal. Bring a photo. Give yourself emotional space instead of trying to “tough it out.”
5. Expect a transition when you get home: It might be smooth. It might be messy. Neither defines your bond.
6. Hold the truth that you deserve this: Time away doesn’t make you less of a mom—it helps you return as a fuller, calmer, more grounded version of yourself.