HeyJaredThe Epiphanist
Writing about motherhood through weekly essays that bridge the gaps between environment, community, and parenting in a world on fire.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 13, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 12, 2026
Latest issues
A Seven-Month Postpartum Fit Check (opens the original)
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It’s been almost seven months of motherhood, meaning seven months of hormone changes and body fluctuations and emotional distress and euphoria. Dread when I hear her cry at 12 am, then 2am, then 4am. Delight when all I have to do is look at her and she’ll smile. A little despair when she wakes up from a nap 30 minutes in, despondent, needing to be rocked back to sleep, and ultimately falling asleep on top of me. And a lot of heart-bursting love when she gets so excited to walk around with me tha
What It’s Like to be an Accidental Stay-at-Home Mom in DC (opens the original)
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On our morning walk, my five-month-old daughter and I turn the corner and see a Lime scooter in the middle of the sidewalk. I slow the stroller to a halt and consider my options—try to maneuver around it, drop off the sidewalk into the road, move the scooter. My stroller is old and stubborn, won’t turn on its own, and I have to slightly lift it off the ground and pivot it to change directions. It’s a hand-me-down, so it was free, and so I try not to complain. It’s 6am, far too early for me to be
The Past is Gone But I Still Want It (opens the original)
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In the dark, I laid on a bed with the covers kicked off, sweat shining on my chest. I was at my in-law’s house, a storybook cabin on a river, staring at the ceiling dotted with stick-on stars. There’s the Big Dipper, there’s Cassiopeia. My husband stirred next to me; my daughter sighed in her crib near the closet. A breeze made the blinds clunk against the window frame. The house is large and open due to an atrium connecting all three levels, and so the air conditioning tends to get lost in all
The Trap of Demanding Attention (opens the original)
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I was spoiled rotten growing up in Utah. The Wasatch mountains were basically my backyard, a playground I escaped to regularly as a teenager and young adult. I loved to get lost in the trees, to watch the valley grow smaller while climbing every switchback, to stare out at the Great Salt Lake, mirage-like in the desert heat. My friends and I jumped in clear lakes, floated down rivers made of mountain runoff, drank water from natural springs. It was a magic I took for granted.I think most childre
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