What to Expect When You’re Expecting… and Also Moving Overseas

I’ve heard the adage, “There’s never a ‘right’ time to start a family.” It’s usually said to comfort couples who don’t have total control over the timing. But in our case — as a queer couple — we actually did have more say in the process. So naturally, we planned the hell out of it.

We started talking seriously about expanding our family back in 2023. Morgan, being the disciplined, Type A queen she is, had already built out spreadsheets for the next one, three, and five years. Every major life event — travel, career, family planning — was mapped. And spoiler alert: moving to Japan was not on that timeline.

But when military orders called, we listened. We just didn’t let that detour stop the baby train. Our plan was already in motion, so we stayed the course.

We chose not to use a fertility clinic. Instead, we inseminated at home — something I’ll talk more about in a future post, but for now, I’ll just say this: it was intimate, intentional, and cost us about $50 and a few dinners with the donor. Much easier to swallow than the $32,000+ we were quoted for clinical insemination.

And wouldn’t you know it… it worked.

After just two tries, we got pregnant. We were stunned.

We’d prepared ourselves for the long haul. Many of our friends had gone through lengthy, emotional fertility journeys. Some tried for years before conceiving. Naturally, we figured we’d be on a similar path.

But two faint lines appeared just two months in — and we couldn’t believe it. Though, in true Celaya fashion, we should’ve known: go big, go fast, figure the rest out on the way.

Our biggest concern once we realized we were pregnant was how it would impact the upcoming move. Would Morgan still be allowed — or able — to relocate overseas while pregnant? Could we really pull this off with two dogs, a baby on the way, and base orders in our inbox?

All of those questions felt heavy at first. We were full of anxiety — about timelines, approvals, and logistics. But over the past few weeks, that stress has slowly started to lift.

Morgan and baby are doing wonderfully. The doctors have no concerns about her traveling. And to make it easier (and ensure the dogs could come too), we decided to purchase our own plane tickets out of pocket.

The Dogs.

This time of year makes it especially tricky to fly with pets — airlines won’t allow them if the outdoor temperatures are too high during loading or layovers. And since we’re heading to Okinawa in peak summer, most commercial airlines had already shut down their pet travel for the season.

We had two options:

1. I would wait until fall and delay my move-in date (not ideal when you’re trying to get settled before a baby arrives), or

2. Pay out of pocket for a route we could control more directly.

So we chose option two — a custom itinerary, booked ourselves, with an airline that would allow dogs in cargo under tighter supervision. Was it cheap? Absolutely not. Was it worth it to avoid a meltdown in a Tokyo layover lounge while crying because we missed our connection? Yes. Yes it was.

Our pups — two needy, lovable goofballs who are very used to their routines — are going to have quite the adventure. We’ve had to research everything: airline-approved crates, sedative alternatives, pre-travel vet certifications, heat embargoes, advanced notification to the Japanese travel authority and so much more. 

But here’s the thing — despite the chaos, we’re doing it. Our dogs will be with us. Morgan and baby are healthy. The flights are booked. And somehow, this wild, out-of-order timeline is starting to feel exactly right for us.

The Home.

There’s something surreal about trying to “nest” while your entire home is in cardboard boxes. Every instinct I have says to create a cozy space, build a nursery, make a home. But instead, we’re carefully labeling bins and hoping our blender makes it through customs. It’s hard — watching the walls slowly empty out while your belly (and life) fills up with something new. This weird in-between space has made me rethink what home even means.

As a couple who’s spent long stretches apart — thanks to military training, deployments, and work —

we’ve learned that home isn’t a location. It’s a rhythm.

It’s a sense of safety we create together, again and again, no matter where we land. Especially now, with everything in transition, we’ve leaned hard into the practices that make our life feel less chaotic.

Most mornings, we start with a quick gratitude meditation and journal over breakfast — usually while the dogs beg for whatever we’re eating. In the evenings, we stretch side by side in the living room, bodies moving gently as we try to make space — physically and mentally — for what’s coming.

We’ve also cut way back on screens. These days, it’s less TV and more walks, podcasts, and quiet evenings reading next to each other. It’s our way of slowing down time, just a little, before life speeds up again.

And the thing that grounds us most? Touch.

When we’re together, we’re almost always touching — hands brushing in the kitchen, legs overlapping on the couch, or one of us absentmindedly rubbing the other’s head or feet. It’s a love language we speak fluently, without needing words.

All of these small rituals are what tether us to each other in the middle of this huge transition. They’re how we build home — over and over — even when the address keeps changing.

So no, there’s probably never a “perfect” time to start a family — but this is our time. It’s messy and unpredictable and definitely not according to plan… but it’s also full of growth, love, and little signs that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

Between the belly kicks, base orders, and bubble wrap, we’re learning that home isn’t about what gets packed — it’s about who you’re building it with. And wherever we land, we’ll unpack our same quiet rituals, carry each other through the chaos, and keep making room for this new life — together.