One year ago, I looked out on this river with tears in my eyes. We’d just wrapped up another amazing weekend of camping with my best friends. It was my ninth year running on this trip.

These woods, just outside of Winthrop, Washington, are one of my favorite places. Dry, warmly scented earth with towering pines and wheat-colored grass have hosted many years of shenanigans, friendships, and love. Much beer has been drunk at those campsites, and the river is my favorite bar in the state.

After another great year, I wondered how this, my tenth year in these woods, would go. The baby in my belly flipped, reminding me that my days of river bar shenanigans, perhaps camping at all, may be over.

Now, with my big baby boy on the outside, he continues to amaze me with his adaptability. Eight months old and he’s a camping pro, a perfect addition to our crew of weirdos and misfits.

It’s me that has changed. As my girlfriends posed and giggled trying to get their perfect sexy camping pics, I held my sleeping baby with my feet in the river, drinking water and trying to push the jealousy and the anxiety of dropping him out of my mind. I couldn’t let loose the way they could, I couldn’t follow them as they chased the sun down the river bank because I couldn’t pick him up with his pack n play and all of the other accouterments that a baby demands. I couldn’t keep up.

So I sat and tried to relax, tried desperately not to let the fear of missing out creep over me and compete with the anxiety of dropping baby.

It wasn’t until we were back at the campsite, baby safely contained, that I was able to crack a beer and relax. By then, I was far behind and was feeling a little…I don’t know, left out. My friends are loving and supportive and they love me and Felix. But being the only mom, the differences between us felt glaring.

Yesterday, we packed everything up and I looked out at that river again. But I didn’t cry, even though I’ve now seen just how those changes have played out. It was, by and large, a success. Felix had slept through the night, dipped his toes in the water, and seemed to even have a good time. This trip will go on. Felix will grow up knowing these woods, these people, and will share in our love and affection for the place.

Last night, we started sharing the photos from the trip. I searched for those pics my friends were taking and signed. They’re beautiful, and I wish I could have gotten one. But, instead, there was this photo.

Just me and Felix at the top of a waterfall. We’re happy, and, though my thighs are thicker than I like and there’s no muscle definition in my arms, I look beautiful. It’s a different kind of glamour shot, but it captures where we are right now — and it’s our version of glorious.

So yes, these woods have changed. And it’s beautiful.