As I wrote earlier, Month Six was my best month of the pregnancy. An unseasonably warm winter in the Sierras allowed me to continue climbing in Yosemite. I was feeling healthy, happy and in a groove, with regular trips to the Manure Pile Buttress to do some easy but enjoyable “trad walking” on climbs up to 5.8.

It was that month in Yosemite that I continued to bump into my friend, and fellow Yosemite resident, Sean “Stanley” Leary. His wife, Mieka, is also pregnant and one month behind me. We talked about trying to remain active through our pregnancies. He said that Mieka was still climbing and biking, and seemed to be doing great.

I would never have guessed that this would be the last time I would ever see Stanley …

By the beginning of month 8, my SI joint cleared up and I was able to start walking again. Who would think that the simple act of walking would bring so much happiness?! I was literally giddy every morning before, during and after my daily walk with Bodie. I had finally accepted that I won’t be climbing again until after birth, and it felt good to finally let this huge part of my personality go—at least for now. Not fighting the urge to be “fit” anymore was a relief. I was tipping the scales with almost 30 pounds gained, which slowed me down considerably and put extra strain on my loose joints. Peeing in the woods became difficult, my knees hurt, my hips hurt, and driving was becoming somewhat of a chore.

Beyond all that, I was just getting excited to meet our son. I could see a light at the end of the tunnel, and there, an exciting new life would be coming into our world. I couldn’t wait.

Just when everything seemed to be going so well, I received the horrible news that Stanley died in a wingsuit BASE accident in Zion National Park. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like just yesterday that we were booting up to go rock climbing in Yosemite, talking about getting ready for our respective kiddos to arrive and sharing our fears and excitement over being first-time parents.

So much has been written about Stanley, his amazing accomplishments and humble nature. He truly was one of those rare gems, someone who lived such a free life and was now getting ready to share it with another little being. Stanley was the guy who could push the limit and climb right alongside the very best in the world, only he would then shy away from limelight of media, never seeking attention or accolades for his world-class accomplishments.

Like most climbers, I have had friends die doing what they love over the years. But this death struck me especially hard. Stanley was a core member of the Yosemite community, super talented, and always approached the risks he took with respect. But moreover, the fact that he and Mieka were expecting their first child so close to ours added a another horrific layer to this tragedy. It really just struck home hard.

Throughout my pregnancy, I’ve been given the incredible gift of getting to experience, first hand, what goes into creating a life. All the work and pain and moments of optimism and joy. And yet to see up close just how fragile life is, how it can be ripped out of our hands in split second of time, is equally astounding. It’s hard to to really know what to make of this except for the observation that life can be so beautiful and so wonderful, and simultaneously so unfair and so cruel.

I’ve always been one to stress about being ready and prepared; just always having things lined up. I think that is one of my great assets, but it can also be a flaw. I realize that for so much of this pregnancy, especially in the beginning, I was so worried about outcomes and what will happen in the future that I forgot to just appreciate what I was going through in the present moment. That is so, so important, because you never know what tomorrow will bring. Stanley left a mark on so many people. Perhaps even his sudden and tragic death is teaching me—to remind me to enjoy each second of life, and to stop worrying and appreciate these last two months of pregnancy.

With almost 30 pounds gained, I am now pretty slow. I often feel useless and in pain. But as I write this, I am currently feeling the tiniest kicks in my belly. I feel the warm sun of Yosemite creeping through our window. Bodie is curled up at my feet. Randy is to my right. And I feel just overwhelmed with appreciation and emotion and a new sense that life and love are the most powerful things in the world, and that when you have those things, you don’t ever take them for granted. Thanks, Stanley, for the inspiration. You will be missed, but never forgotten.