meditations during late pregnancy

this won't last forever, though it feels like it right now. 

but they tell me it won't last forever. 

pregnancy has to end sometime

(although the third trimester feels like years). 

i think about female elephants

and how they are pregnant for about two years 

and i don't know how any being could do that

(and yet, these last months feel like years). 

[all pictures by Karyn and Jacob Tucker]

when i was an undergrad at byu,

one of my professors

(a woman teaching british modernism) 

mentioned that the time her body 

had been commented on the most 

was when she was pregnant. 

being pregnant during the pandemic 

(my own kind of "confinement," i suppose) 

i have not been out in public as often as 

i would have in regular times. 

thus, there haven't been as many comments on my body. 

but these past two weeks

as i've gone to the library of congress--

either walking on cooler days, 

or taking the metro when it's much too hot 

for anyone (let alone pregnant women) 

to be out and about--

i have heard the comments. 

some of them are welcome, 

some are not. 

the pregnant body is a spectacle, 

i suppose. 

normal, and yet, not normal. 

two bodies in one. 

four hands 

four feet 

two pairs of lungs. 

i breathe for both of us. 

being pregnant 

giving birth 

is both universal 

and individual. 

but it is an experience

everyone seems to have an opinion on

(some opinions are welcome, 

some are not). 

but here, this is my body. 

(stretched, aching, and unfamiliar

to me, it still gives life).  

and yes, this was my choice

(and an act of faith, 

my hope for the future--

not just mine, but for the world). 

i give and i receive, 

i hold and i believe. 

and when i am very still

i watch for his movements 

across my belly 

like shooting stars across 

a darkened sky. 

Some thoughts on digital minimalism

 A couple of months ago, I read the book Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. The premise of the book is similar to what you've probably heard before--that we are too plugged-in on our devices, and that it changes the way we think, act, work, and play, etc. But, instead of promoting common-sense quick fixes (like turning off notifications or observing a weekly "digital Sabbath"--which are helpful, of course, but do not solve the problem of being plugged in most of the time), Newport recommends that we become digital minimalists--figuring out what works for us and what we need digitally, and figuring out tools work for us in which scenarios. (For example, instead of just hopping on every new device or app because it is available/because someone says that it will "make our lives easier," or "maximize your time," really ask yourself if that is the case.) 

One of his recommendations is to do a "digital minimalism challenge"--to completely cut out all digital media (except that which is absolutely necessary for work)--for 30 days. After the 30 days, you slowly reintroduce digital media into your life and find out what is truly working for you and in what ways. 

In March, I decided to try a "digital minimalism challenge," which for me meant no Facebook, no Instagram, and no looking at news on my phone (these were the biggest parts of my digital minimalism challenge--there were some other rules I made for myself, too). Most importantly, I wanted to figure out what was working for me digitally and what was not. 

I had done "digital detoxes" before--taking a break from Facebook/Instagram for a week or two, etc. But this was the first time I'd ever done something like this for a month . . . and the first few weeks were harder than I thought they would be! I missed seeing what friends were up to, I realized that I used checking Instagram and Facebook as tools to help me deal with boredom, and I had the sense that I was "missing out" on things/news/gossip. 

However, as the month went on, my mind felt calmer. I had more time to read, or to play piano, or to write. It was a freeing experience for me, to not feel attached to my phone or computer at all times, and it made me re-evaluate both my relationship to digital media (especially social media) and to relationships. 

Overall, I just realized that I don't want to live online all of the time. It does not, in the words of another famous minimalist "spark joy." 

That being said, digital media can be used to help foster and continue relationships . . . and it is there where I find myself still trying to figure out the best way to use digital media to strengthen my relationships with family and friends. I still don't know the best ways to go about that. But it's something I am more conscious of. 

Doing the digital minimalism challenge also made me think about how much I want our baby's life online. And honestly? I don't want his life online very much. I know that seeing baby pictures is so fun, but I also want to respect his privacy (and ours). At the same time, I also don't mind sharing pictures and fun stories with close friends and family members. Again, I'm not yet sure the specifics of how we'll do this (maybe a private blog, maybe a weekly email). But I don't want his life to be broadcast online before he has a chance to say whether he wants that or not. 

And, like I mentioned earlier, I don't want to live online all of the time. I appreciate authentic writing (so I'm figuring out what that means for my blog . . . it will probably stay in one form or another), but the desire to post frequently on social media has died down for me this past year. As one friend said, "the ride has to end sometime." 

The ride hasn't ended for me . . . not yet. I don't know if it ever will completely. Besides, digital minimalism isn't about completely cutting digital media out of your life, but rather, figuring out what is useful and what aligns with your values vs. what is superfluous. It's a work in progress for me. But a work that I hope helps me live more intentionally. 

Random life tidbits

-The last carton of eggs we used had about 6 or 7 double-yolked eggs. I have never seen that amount of double yolks in one carton before. If I didn't already know that this is a "singleton pregnancy" (I am not making that term up), I would definitely think I was having twins. Especially after dreaming of having triplets. But nope. Just one baby. 

-We have a family of turtledoves nesting in our backyard. There are three of them, and they make Sam and me happy (but especially Sam, since he works in the back room and can see them, just peacefully relaxing). 

-We've entered hotter weather in D.C. The azaleas have withered and the roses are in bloom, but this week past they all looked . . . tired. It's supposed to be a bit cooler this week, which I am looking forward to (I don't know how I will manage this last month or so in hotter temperatures while pregnant--I guess I just will). 

[azaleas from the national arboretum a few weeks ago. so vibrant. so beautiful.]

-Slowly, archives are starting to open up. This past week we went up to New York and I spent a couple of days at the New York Public Library. It was so nice to be in an archive again! And the NYPL is such a lovely space to work. (Also, New Yorkers were very kind to me, the heavily-pregnant lady.) 

-Speaking of archives opening up, the Library of Congress will open June 1st! I was, unsurprisingly, the first person to call and make some appointments to visit the archives there. Here's hoping I get some research before Baby comes! 

-I am hoping that Baby comes around his due date. I don't know if I can do an extra 2 weeks. But I guess he'll do what he wants. Babies usually do. 

Baby bump, baby moon

 Last month, Sam and I took a trip (post-vaccinations! Wahoo!) to the Southwest for a little "babymoon" (which is apparently a Millennial thing to do). 

[#pregnart. This was . . . around 30 weeks? If I remember correctly?] 

[hanging out in beautiful sedona]

We spent time in Arizona (Sedona and the Grand Canyon) and in New Mexico (mostly in Santa Fe). Neither one of us had been to the Grand Canyon before, and we were both glad we drove the distance to see it. (I can now understand why my parents--after traveling with 5 kids in Southern Utah to visit Zion's National Park--ultimately decided not to drive further south to see the Grand Canyon. It is out of the way, and I can understand my parents not wanting to add another half-day to our vacations.) 

The Grand Canyon truly was awe-inspiring (Sam even teared up a little bit when we got to the first viewpoint), and we enjoyed driving to different look-out points (I was not going to be hiking the Grand Canyon or riding a mule at 7 months' pregnant--there might be some women who do hike the Grand Canyon, and more power to them, but I was good with just walking and looking around). The scale is hard to describe; Iphone pictures don't do it justice. (And I'm sure the perspective is just as amazing from inside the canyon.) 

[my eyes might be closed in this picture? and for some reason, that makes it even better.]

[someday we will tell our son, "oh, you've been to the grand canyon." and he'll say, "but i can't remember it!"--or something along those lines--but we will insist, because it's true, but also to annoy him.]

Other highlights of the trip included seeing red rocks (I just really love them), the Chapel of the Holy Cross, Santa Fe, good food, and staying in a proto-earth ship. I

[inside the chapel of the holy cross]

[and the chapel of the holy cross from the outside]

[santa fe welcomes you]

[also, chimayo, new mexico was lovely.]

A (belated) Easter thought

 (but still always applicable) 

"Look, I know all too well that the story of the world is entropy, things fly apart, we sicken, we fail, we grow weary, we divorce, we are hammered and hounded by loss and accidents and tragedies, we slide away into the dark oceans behind the stars. 

But I also know that we are carved of immense confusing holiness; that the whole point for us is grace under duress; and that you either take a flying leap at nonsensical illogical unreasonable ideas like marriage and marathons and democracy and divinity, or you huddle behind the brooding wall." --Brian Doyle, "A Song of Believing" 

D.C. in spring is the prettiest time of the year.

 I've had a bunch of photos of D.C. spring that I've been meaning to post on here, but my computer is laaammmme and has been having storage issues, which can make the very act of downloading a chore. BUT! without further ado, here are some pictures of D.C., all pretty in pink. 

(Because I will stand by what I said--spring is the best time of year for D.C.) 

First up, neighborhood walks, because that's what Sam and I like to do after long days at work. 

[so many pretty front gardens in the capitol hill area. i like how the flowers just cascade from these plots.]

[artistic tree outside cvs.]

[these beehives are in front of our ward building and i kind of love them.]

[another call box, this time near dupont.]

[we found this tree filled with oragami cranes and i really, really, really loved it.]

[daffodils in our backyard!]

[and crocuses in the cemetery.]

[this sculpture by saint-gauden is officially titled the mystery of the hereafter and the peace of God that passeth understanding, but it's also called the adams memorial or "grief". it was made as a monument to marian "clover" hooper adams [hnery adams's wife] after she took her own life. such a sad story.]

And now for the pink. Starting with pink magnolias outside of the Smithsonian castle. 

[i don't know why people use "pansy" in a derogatory way. i mean, yes, they are delicate. but man, they are resilient.]  

[and now, what you've all been waiting for, pink cherry blossoms by the tidal basin.]

And now, back to "how things are going for us," I am still pregnant and am outgrowing all of my clothes. 

[at 27 weeks with one of the handful of dresses that still fit. this will probably not fit in a couple of weeks. i haven't had much luck finding maternity clothes because you can't try on maternity clothes at target or other retail stores, and ordering things online is hit-or-miss.]

[trying to get a full-body shot by standing on our orange couch.]

[also, sam and i finished the 1000-piece puzzle we were working on! it got hard at the end, because there were just tree and snow pieces left. BUT WE DID IT.]

a new spring

It's been a little over a year since the pandemic hit the U.S., since cities shut down, since Princeton shut down, since the archives shut down, since we realized that life was going to be very different for a while--for how long a while, none of us knew for sure. 

I remember how strange it was to see the beginnings of spring--of daffodils, green buds, of cherry blossoms--juxtaposed with everything closing up; with death and sickness and fear. 

A year later, with spring in the air again, things feel different. A few nights ago, Sam and I ate outdoors at a restaurant, felt the warming spring air around us, and saw how others around us--seated outside at the restaurant, passerby on the street--seemed so much more relaxed than a year ago, than a month ago. There are changes coming, and I hope that there are good things ahead for all of us. 

"there's a hope in every new seed

and every flower that grows upon the earth [. . .]

I'll come back to you in a year or so

and rebuild, ready to become 

the person you believed in, 

the person that you used to love." --noah and the whale, "the first day of spring"