One Month, Seven Cities, One Big Move: Our Journey to Japan

This past month has, without a doubt, been the craziest of our lives.

We traveled to seven cities—Austin TX, Sacramento, San Jose, Monterey, Carlsbad, Palm Springs—before reaching our final resting point: Okinawa, Japan. The final weeks in the States were packed with goodbye dinners, final photoshoots, multiple baby showers, and as much time with family as we could manage.

Less than month ago, we drove away from our little California cottage and began the long haul to what we jokingly called “the finish line.” I was hysterical—sobbing, gasping for air crying. It was the first and last time I’ve cried about leaving the U.S. There simply hasn’t been time for emotions. Too much to do, too many boxes to check. But on that final day, while scrubbing the last bits of that cottage clean, I finally let everything go—all the stress, the anticipation, the pressure that had been simmering since December.

December. That’s when we received the orders: we’d be relocating to Japan.

That was two months before Morgan got pregnant.

As we started to share the news with friends, family, and clients, the most common question we heard was, “Are you excited or scared?” I always answered quickly: “Incredibly excited.” I had already spent hours researching the logistics, rules, and cultural expectations. I even began taking online Japanese classes. Why not lean into it? It’s the adventure of a lifetime.

Now, I know that might sound a little overly optimistic or detached from reality, but let me explain how I got here.

Military life is hard. Being a military spouse is isolating, stressful, and demands a level of selflessness that isn’t always a choice—it’s a necessity.

Isolation

Every few years, you uproot your entire life—sometimes across the country, sometimes across the globe. As a small business owner whose identity was deeply tied to her career, our move to California hit me hard. I had spent seven years building a six-figure photography business in D.C., where I was established, published, referred, and respected.

But in Vista, California, the market was wildly different. Photographers were charging $80–$300 a session. My rates were significantly higher—not just for income, but because I hold a BFA in photography, multiple awards, and over 15 years of experience. My rates reflect my expertise and the art I pour into my work. These other photographers may very well be just as qualified or even more so than I am, but they charge hobbyist rates, not a livable income in Southern California. 

But the reception wasn’t great when I did start advertising. People were critical. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I started flying back to D.C. every six weeks. That cycle—constant travel, intense client loads, trying to re-educate clients on cancellation policies—nearly broke me. It left me mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. I spent a week after each trip unable to leave the house. My circle in California? Just five friends. Thankfully, one of them was my brother, which felt like a lifeline.

Looking back, I see how much of that chaos I chose—but that doesn’t make it easier to live through. Now, living across the globe, it’s clear I can’t keep that business model up. The time difference alone makes it impossible to casually call my mom and cry on a Tuesday.

Stress

If you’re a military spouse, you know: the stress is relentless.

You stress when they’re working with explosives. You stress when they’re deployed with limited contact. You stress about the next move—where will you live, how will you rent your current home, will the dogs be allowed into the next country? You stress about the 24-hour travel days. You stress about your belongings literally floating on a ship across the Pacific. You stress about emergencies at home—about being too far away.

Honestly? If it weren’t for a very specific cocktail of Zoloft, meditation, and exercise, I’d be mentally wrecked.

Selflessness

You didn’t technically “sign up” for this life, but you did agree to the partnership—and with that comes a particular flavor of selflessness. You relocate endlessly. You don’t actually choose where you live, just list preferences. You adjust to rules big and small—no crop tops at the gym, for example (silly to some, but it’s literally all I own). You become part of a structure that’s much bigger than you, and you carry that responsibility with you.

So What Now?

How do I care for myself better this time, so I don’t spiral into another burnout cycle or depressive state?

It’s been four days, and already I’m flipping the script. I’ve been hitting the base gym, reaching out to other spouses, and getting off base every chance I get. Morgan and I chose to live off base to immerse ourselves more in the culture and soak up everything Okinawa has to offer.

Since arriving, we’ve had nearly nonstop rain—two typhoons already in one week—but we haven’t let that stop us. We’re currently living in a tiny but comfortable on-base  hotel room while we house hunt, which makes getting out of the room feel essential.

Today was the first day it didn’t rain, so I headed down to the ocean to swim laps—only to be greeted by huge signs reading “SWIMMING PROHIBITED” due to poisonous jellyfish in the water. So… no laps. But still, I stood there stunned by the sheer beauty of it all—white sand, turquoise water, wild wind. It’s magical.

So… Do I Still Feel Excited?

HELL YES.

The day Morgan got her official orders, I decided this: I will only move forward with optimism, curiosity, and joy.

I get to choose how I experience this chapter—and I’m choosing wonder over worry, adventure over anxiety.

And while we’re settling in, unpacking mentally and emotionally (actual unpacking comes later), you might be wondering—how’s the baby? How’s Morgan? How’s everything else going?

The Baby Update

So, now that you know we made it here in one piece and are mostly mentally intact, let’s talk baby! Honestly? Things are going really well. Morgan is doing wonderfully, and our little one is incredibly active—like, “midnight tap dancing recital” active.

During our travels, we squeezed in 1.5 more baby showers—one lovingly dubbed a “Grandma Sprinkle” for Morgan’s mom, and the final hoorah with all of her family and friends in San Jose. The outpouring of love was overwhelming in the best way. It made the chaos of travel a little more joyful, we were thankful for the needed distraction

One of the trickier parts of this relocation has been navigating medical appointments. It's been a couple of weeks since we last saw our little kicker, and we’re both excited and a tiny bit anxious for our upcoming check-in. (Pretty sure he’s training for the World Cup in there.) Thankfully, we got everything squared away today—paperwork filed, appointments scheduled, peace of mind slowly returning.

And can we just take a moment for Morgan? She made it through a 24-hour travel day at six months pregnant.TWENTY. FOUR. HOURS. I watched in awe as she navigated airport security, customs, time zones, and—let’s be honest—my own fraying nerves, all while growing a human. Goddess behavior.

We can't forget the pups, the did an absolute stellar job with the long travel day. I plan on writing a full post about their travel later so for now I'll just leave it at this : sedate your dogs, it's humane and absolutely necessary for flying. In my mind, there is no reason not to - talk to your vet and get the correct dosage and help your furry companions by easing their anxiety.

We’re beyond grateful to have a cozy place to land while we search for our new home. And Morgan? She's especially thankful for the deep soaking tubs in Japanese hotels. Bath culture here is no joke—and her body is singing its praises daily.

So, there you have it: How we got here. How we’re doing. How we’re staying sane(ish) and soaking it all in.

We’re so excited to keep sharing this journey with you. Next up? House hunting in Okinawa—stay tuned, because I’ll be documenting every confusing, charming, and possibly jellyfish-adjacent step of the way.

Until then, thanks for being here.

We’re really glad you came.