08/26/2025
“babe, take candid pregnancy photos of me for memories”
pregnancy is nothing like anything i’ve experienced before, and i’ve experienced a thing or two. i’ve traveled all over the world, taken all the “medicines”, lost my mind more than once, flirted with death (and the wrong people), struggled through commitments to school, relationships, projects (to name a few).
all these experiences have offered me different forms of transformation and taken me on all sorts of alchemical journeys, but all of it pales in comparison to the sublimity of growing life inside your own body, to sharing the temple of self with another, a tiny stranger occupying you for resources. it has taught me so many things, not least of which is the understanding of why men (people without functional uteri [uteruses?]) have searched for their creator all these years: they have never felt life move inside of them.
i have never known god, creation, earth so intimately as i do today, and everyday that intimacy grows deeper, my heart grows and expands in ways i didn’t think possible, and she isn’t even born yet, the process isn’t even complete. i thought i understood why some of our earliest statues of worship were of pregnant women, but i only “understood”, with my mind, the immensity of the act. it’s why i’ve always liked to wish mothers happy birthday on their child’s birthday. but now, in my body, wordlessly, i am beginning to know, to feel the numinous re-enactment of creation itself, to innerstand the relationship between mother, creator, and divine.
and to think that women everywhere do this every day. that many women do it without help, or doctors, or partners. that women do it without multivitamins and iron supplements. that some women do it without anaesthetics. that they do it starving, scared, to the sound of bombs, under rubble, beside their dead lover’s body. that women do it and keep working on other things and taking care of other people.
if you are looking for god, if you are in search of your creator, there’s only one thing, really, to do.
call your mother.
(and if you haven’t subscribed to my email list yet, what are you waiting for?)