Babymooning: the Songs by the sea

Coolin’ it at the coast

It is a peaceful moment as I write from Gangneung, a seaside city on the Korean peninsula’s east coast. While Dae-Han works on a presentation about environmental sustainability for my school’s Grade 9 class, I am watching waves crest against the shore. While there is a window, a road, and sand between myself and the sea, I can feel the waves washing over me, first meeting my chest and then enveloping this growing belly. Our sweet Sofia is currently busy swimming little laps in my tummy and it is delightful to know that someday she will be swimming with us in these waters.

Dae-Han and I arrived at our pension, La Casamia, on Thursday afternoon.

Not featured is the swivel tv that allowed us to watch our favorite show, Billions, right from this spot. Our babymoon included some binging.

Where does time go?

More than a week has gone by since I started this post. I have traded a view of the sea for a view of the coffee table where a half eaten bowl of pistachios lives alongside a stack of books on all things birthing and baby and grade 9 essays scattered about as a tall carton of micro-plastic free water towers above my cup of mandarin mindfulness tea. Here’s to hoping a cup-a-zen will center me amongst the clutter.

I did not get to finish this post at that cute coffee shop, but I will return to some babymoon moments now. We had an adventuresome honeymoon in Iceland, and we continued in that spirit with a good hike on our babymoon — we are both excited to put lil Sofia in a baby carrier and get her into the rich nature that exists outside of Seoul next autumn. Not yet sporting the baby carrier, what you will see is a husband who brings the selfie stick, his dad’s old camera, and a plastic bag to pick up trash along the trails.

Dae-Han does love trying to catch those just right shots. While these are not from the babymoon, he did quite a fine job of capturing some goofy and pretty shots of me in our neighborhood, on a nearby city street recently.

Sometimes I grab my phone in time to capture him caputuring me.

Everything, everywhere, all at once

While Dae-Han and I still have three months (we hope) before our BaciSong babe is here, I am glad that we took the time away from the city. For many months before Sofia was safely kickin’ it in my belly, I felt consumed by getting pregnant and staying pregnant; entering a time when we know our baby is healthy and growing has opened up my emotional landscape for a flood of other feelings.

My heart looks like a watercolor painting, holding the marvel and beauty of our growing baby and also grief for the passing of a season in our lives that was rather short. One side does not feel heavier than the other, and the colors of both blend together, for I would not have one without the other.

On the last night of our babymoon, I felt like the tears pooled behind my eyes might poor down my face. I am so brimming with joy at being a mama and parenting with Dae-Han. I am also feeling the feels about the transition from our life of simplicity to something richer, yes, and more complex.

Life be life-ing

Mmm, I suppose some of these feels are coming out as irritation lately. Today I have entered trimester three, and before today I entered Major Nesting Mode. So, this weekend especially, our house vibes have been giving Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. I want to minimize all of the stuff in our house, with everything having a precise place — including the bottle of ketchup in the fridge — and my husband wants to create a new world order surrounded by 101 stacks of books.

I am currently asking ChatGPT which spaceship to board to meet him back on Earth (noting that I won’t be catching any of Elon Musk’s rides).

In summary, Chatty offered the following suggestions: listen actively, embrace empathy, communicate openly and honestly, patience. And then my favorite two, which are good but don’t tempt me to exchange our therapist for AI:

Compromise and Flexibility

• No one’s perspective is absolute. Finding a middle ground might mean compromising on certain issues or adapting to new ways of thinking or behaving. This doesn’t mean losing your identity—it’s more about finding a harmonious balance.

Appreciate the Differences

• Instead of seeing differences as barriers, recognize them as opportunities for growth. People with different perspectives can enrich each other's lives in unexpected ways. The key is to value the other person’s viewpoint rather than trying to “fix” them or make them conform to your own.

I desire very much to find that harmonious balance, but I can also feel the desire for conformity … to my way of doing things. I’m building the baby, why don’t I just get to be the boss?

Perhaps after a good dinner I will find my way out of this sophomoric approach to marriage. Likely we will solve this with another episode of Billions, another cup of tea for me, a short whisky for DH, and a good night of sleep.

May we all toast to babymoons and the beautiful layers of partnership.

Writing from the Messy Middle

I slept terribly last night. I, usually, sleep facing the door to our bedroom with Dae-Han behind me. I am one of those sleepers who loves to be touching at least her partner’s feet all night long, maintaining a physical connection that somehow grounds me through the strange dreams I have most nights.

Last night, I was sleeping alone. To be clear, this is not about writing in the messy middle of a fight with my husband. I will get into the messy middle soon enough. For now, I am telling you about how my husband went to Okinawa for a peace march and I had to sleep alone. I tossed and turned, trying to figure out which side of the room to turn my back to. I felt exposed and unsettled. Scared, even, in my safe apartment in this safe country.

“Ufff. That’s vulnerability,” I told my therapist, in my head, where she lives on the days in between our weekly sessions. “I used to sleep alone every night in my single life, and now sleeping alone for a weekend is excruciating.”

As I write from the quiet couch tonight, I wonder how my husband had the gall to leave me by my lonesome self for a whole three days. I find it acceptable to whisk myself off to Hong Kong for birthday weekends to shop and dine, but somehow I find it wholly unfair for DH to go to march for peace if it means I will miss him so much. I suppose there may come a day when I relish a night or two alone. I am not there right now.

Two weeks ago Dae-Han and I were together in Japan. We took a long weekend to visit Osaka and Kyoto. This post isn’t really about that whole trip, but both places were beautiful and we took some great photos and they are worth sharing.

An honorable mention goes to this moment from the Imperial Palace in Kyoto:

In my hands I am holding a $20 ice cream cone. I wanted ice cream. I didn’t actually think the gold was real. It was too late to take back the order.

My husband’s face says it all. But babe, you’ll always be my Sugar Daddy now. #winning

(You can’t digest gold, by the way…)

A shoutout to the owner of Cafe Seberg, a cool little joint down the block from our teahouse abode in Kyoto.

This cool cat is a movie aficionado and he will set you down with a menu and a list of movies to watch.

Additionally, he’ll bring your coffee with a little slip of paper with Kansai (regional) phrases to use around town.

Here are spots in Osaka and Kyoto that come with high endorsements from Dae-Han and me:

Osaka Castle•Moegi Restaurant•Doki Sushi

Fushimi Inari Shrine•Kyoto Imperial Palace•Arashiyama Bamboo Grove•Kiyomizu-dera Temple

At Kiyomizu-dera Temple we met the Goddess of Mercy, at least this is who I believe her to be, keeper of the babies that never came to be.

In Japan, there are cultural ways to process and grieve unborn babies. I learned this while reading Jessica Zucker’s memoir, I had a Miscarriage. It was in the days that I would walk my favorite trails with Zucker’s voice coming through Audible that I learned that I was pregnant for a second time.

When a pregnancy stick turned positive the day before my parents were arriving to Korea, I was in disbelief. I guess the first pregnancy wasn’t just a fluke, I thought to myself. Dae-Han and I (and the whole family) were happy. I was also full of angst and worry as this second pregnancy was coming directly on the heals of a miscarriage.

I continued to listen to Zucker’s memoir, still healing from the first miscarriage, working to feel connected to a second pregnancy.

“This is the post-traumatic experience—our past remains ever present. Encumbered by the weight of our traumas, we feel the sting of every terrifying possibility,” spoke Zucker into my ear as I walked past budding cherry blossom trees on a day in early April. I held the weight of trauma, but I also felt hope as flowers were blooming. New life outside and inside of me, I marveled. My pregnancy app told me that the due date for this little bean would be the day before Thanksgiving. So perfect and poetic.

A few days later, I began spotting and spotting turned to a second pregnancy loss.

And two weeks later, Dae-Han and I stood in front of the Goddess of Mercy at a shrine in Kyoto. I was not quite sure what to do. Do I pray? I wondered. I stand in front of her as she held a tiny baby in her arms. We softly gazed at one another. And I just breathed, slowly and steadily. I did not feel a great rush of emotions in this moment. But, I felt grateful for the Goddess of Mercy. And the moment. For the minutes we stood to honor two sweet embryos that came and passed. I was thankful to be with my husband and this deity, standing together in the Messy Middle (a term coined by Glennon Doyle).

There have been times since my second miscarriage where I have felt so strong. One day walking to yoga a thought materialized. You got this, came a message from the Great Beyond. Yes, I thought back. I do. Whatever “this” is, I got it. We got it. Dae-Han and I, we got this.

There have been times since my second miscarriage where I have felt heavy and angry and anxious. I did not anticipate that Mother’s Day this year would be any different from any other. And then it was. I carried anger and grief from that day into the days that followed. I was finally able to start to sort through these emotions openly in a session with our therapist.

(I love therapy. I seem to have become a collector of wonderful therapists. I liken therapeutic spaces to the gym. In therapy you get coaching on how to do emotional push-ups. Dae-Han and I chose to start therapy together not because anything was wrong but because we wanted to keep us — our communication, our shared vision — feeling right. We go to the gym together to stay physically fit and we go to therapy together to be emotionally fit.)

Today? Today is neither particularly light nor dark. It just is.

I have been listening to Anne Lamott’s latest work entitled Somehow: Thoughts on Love. In the Overture, she shares with her readers something her husband says: “Eighty percent of everything that is true and beautiful can be experienced on any 10‑minute walk.” This morning I went on a run and 10 minutes into it, I ran into the truth and beauty of this scene:

I stopped and I appreciated just how glorious life can still be, even when you are inhabiting a Messy Middle. I suppose I am trying to build my capacity right now for, rather than squirming out of a Messy Middle, standing in it with strength. A Messy Middle will be a Messy Middle for as long as it needs to be and we are not privy to knowing that timeline.

It’s a little daunting, having to face again and again how little control we have. As I work towards accepting that truth, I plan to keep taking walks to keep finding more beauty around me. Send me the truth and beauty that you find on your walks.

The Cost of (in)Fertility

Hello from Minnesota!. Dae-Han and I have touched down in my hometown for a brief but wonderful 4 days at the OG BaciAbode.

Before I get into all things Operation Build-a-Baby, a moment to acknowledge the floury fun we had yesterday making homemade pasta sauce and ravioli:

Dae-Han has now been officially initiated into his newly acquired Italian(ish) family. ♡

In two days, we fly to California. I am looking forward to a Christmas with kimchi and Vitamin-D and my new Korean American family.

We have traveled 14,000 miles (roundtrip) and spent $2,949.28 (two tickets) to spend Christmas with family. It was worth every sleepless hour on the plane and every moment gripping Dae-Han’s arm through rough turbulence.

Right about now, Cake’s “The Distance” is starting to play in my head. Why?

Simply for one line:

“He’s going the distance.”

Dae-Han and I are not just going the distance for family, we’re also going the distance for Baby BaciSong. Unlike Cake, I don’t think we’re going for speed anymore.

When we started the IFV process this fall, I knew it was unlikely that we were running a sprint, but my ever-present optimist was hopeful. After a second egg retrieval that yielded three eggs, two that became three-day old embryos that decided this world was not for them, I am trying to figure out how to pace myself when I am not privy to the distance of this race. And for that reason, perhaps this is the perfect training for parenthood, when you have to dig down and find the stamina for days after sleepless nights, projectile vomiting (props to my mom for dealing with mine), and many dirty diapers.

When I came out of anaesthesia on the most recent egg retrieval venture, the first thing I did (again) was warn the nurses that I was not yet asleep so please do not yet start the procedure. With soft classical music playing around me, they warmly told me that the procedure was indeed done.

As I lied on the cot recovering, not yet knowing how many eggs the doctor had retrieved, I imagined looking over five (this was what I hod hoped would be ready to hatch) one by one, asking “Are you my baby?” “Are you my baby?” “Are you my baby?”

When 10 days later we found out that indeed none of those eggs were to become our baby, I imagined hearing a soothing voice say, “It’s not time yet. Take more time to enjoy just being with my dad for now.”

So, we’re doing that, little Baby BaciSong Bean. We’re staying up late, and sleeping in (or at least I am). We’re being here, ready for you, when you are ready for us.

Tit’s Up! has become the collective motto in our house. Listen, somedays, this shit is pretty hard. Amidst shooting my body up with hormones and receiving undesirable news from the doctor, I can project my angry sense of helplessness onto Dae-Han, just some of the emotional cost of infertility.

I see now firsthand in my marriage the way that our partners can be both recipients of our love and tenderness and our fire and fury. I am grateful that with Dae-Han and I moments of fertility disappointments do not outweigh the understanding that we are Team BaciSong, in this together. So, we’re working to keep our heads high and Tits Up!

The doctor has suggested that we take two months off of stim shots. This works out well as we were traveling this month for the holidays, and in January, I will be meeting my Soul Sister Ceci in Hong Kong to celebrate my birthday.

When we bought our tickets to celebrate Christmas in the States, originally we had planned to fertilize the six eggs that I had frozen before moving to Seoul. While there was more than one factor in our decision not to do so this year, one of those factors was financial. Both of our parents have told us that they would help us with this cost, and the support they have offered would allow us to move forward with Stateside IVF, but I am not yet in place where I want to (or feel I have to) work with the American healthcare system’s costs.

I have little idea how healthcare is figured out in different countries, or why things cost what they do in different places, but let me lay out the finances of IVF in both the United States and Korea:

• Retrieving and freezing my six eggs 2.5 years ago cost $15,000. If we moved forward with fertilization, it would be an additional $6,747, for a total of $21,747.

• I kept careful record of our bills this past retrieval. The total cost of retrieval and fertilization was $4,917.45.

• So, the difference between one egg retrieval and fertilization in the US versus Korea: $16,829.55.

It is baffling to me. My hospital in Korea is state-of-the-art. I get personal care from doctors and nurses. So, how is it that Korea can keep costs so much lower than the States? Maybe it is a rabbit hole for another day. Maybe not. It just makes me angry that those living in the States could break their banks or be unable to use IVF because the cost is so exorbitant.

Because my sweet husband often gives enough f*cks for the both of us, I will abstain from getting on a higher soapbox and choose this moment to start my sign-off.

Regardless of where one lives, the cost of infertility can certainly be high when you consider the emotional and financial toll it can take. Dae-Han and I are blessed. We have access to great care, we have wonderful support systems both inside and outside of our partnership, and we continue to be hopeful realists in this journey.

This post has taken me from Mom and Dad’s kitchen to an airplane en route to California. Goodbye for now, from a mile high. ♡

When the best thing you can be is a happy hen

“9 eggs! You’re a regular chicken!!” wrote my friend Caroline in our WhatsApp chat. And by “regular” she did not mean average or normal. No, friends, she meant that I am earning an A+ at laying eggs — as good as any young, healthy hen. Except that I am no spring chicken but a woman working to conceive at an “advanced maternal age” (formerly “geriatric pregnancy” and what is that term except one that elicits images of a grey-haired granny pregnant in a nursing home so thank to whoever pushed for kinder language because #languagematters, yo).

At my Advanced Maternal Age (AMA) I was able to produce the same number of eggs as I produced at AMA minus 2 years when I froze my eggs in Minnesota. This earns me bragging rights. I am an overachiever who is writing today to tell you about the report card from my doctor which reads “Exceeding Expectations.” (There was no report card but I read this note on the doctor’s face through blurry, coming-out-of-anathesia eyes. She was impressed with me, I know it.)

Just like when I was a student and I didn’t find school exceedingly hard but I did have to work for my grades, I worked for those 9 eggs. This time I did not work with a tutor or go in for extra help with my teacher, but I did do the following:

1. Abstained from alcohol.

   This has actually been the case not just for the past 10 days of IVF shots, but for the past 5 weeks, since Dae-Han and I started doctoring with Cha Fertility Center. Dae-Han has also abstained, even though he wasn’t told he had to, and I appreciate the solidarity from him. Also, if you remember from my last post, drunk sperm swim in circles, so our chances now seem better that our little bean will know how to swim straight to its destination.

2. Listened more closely to my body.

   Workouts are generally my way of relieving stress and feeling good about my body, myself, and the world at large, so I often push myself to get in workouts and complete them vigorously. While I was able to keep working out during this process, I tuned in to my body and made sure when she said, “let’s spend more time on the couch today” I answered with, “you got it, girl.”

3. Took fertility supplements.

   Aunt Christy, our favorite Cali-based acupuncturist recommended that we take CoQ10 to increase sperm and egg health. When I told this to a doctor back home in a tele-health appointment he smirked a bit and said “well, it won’t hurt.” I like this doctor, but I also want to call him up and say, “you know how you said I might get 4-5 eggs at this age, well, I got 9, man.” I like combining the wisdom of the East and the West, and we are grateful that Christy has offered her expertise in Chinese medicine.

4. Avoided cold fluids.

   My mother-in-law was the first to say “do not drink cold water when you are trying to conceive.” I was a bit dismissive of this at first, but this again is Eastern wisdom, and Christy agreed I should heed this advice. So, no cold drinks and generally no cold food. Lots of tea and soup.

5. Gave myself 28 shots.

   The first three days of shooting myself up with hormones I was fine. The days following … I was fiiiiiine. No really, just fiiiiine. Which Highly Sensitive Person would be bothered by inducing Super PMS? Certainly not me.

6. Collaborated with my favorite person, Dae-Han Song, husband extraordinaire.

   I married this man for dozens of reasons. His smile, his kindness, his perfect skin, and most certainly for his ability to be the best caretaker. The past 10 days, Dae-Han became Hot Nurse Song as he prepared my shots each morning, working to take any fertility load that he could off my shoulders and onto his.

How is someone this handsome in their Christmas pjs right when they get out of bed in the morning? The man can’t take a poor picture at any angle or any time. May our progeny be good swimmers and just as photogenic.

7. Leaned into the Sisterhood.

The Sisterhood is awesome. It came in the form of many supportive messages from friends around the globe. The Sisterhood also showed up in action. Dae-Han had an incredible opportunity to go to South Africa this week for a conference, so our friend Alice stepped in to go with for my retrieval appointment. Our friendship reached new heights as she accompanied me into the procedure room — my gown flapping as I wiggled into the feet straps on the procedure table — to translate for me before I was in an anaesthesia slumber. She got me home after the procedure. She waited on me while I was laid out on the couch for several hours post procedure.

Alice is awesome.

So I’ve gathered some cool things this week. I’ve learned that I can be a statistical outlier in the best way possible. I’ve learned how much I like being in a deep anaethesia induced sleep. (When I told this to my friend Lychelle, she responded with an amused “Tell me your job is hard without telling me your job is hard.” Perhaps. I was forced to sleep and rest and this part was delicious.) I’ve learned — or perhaps I had this knowledge and it was reinforced this week — what an incredible community of women I have around me here in Seoul. I’ve been reminded that my husband is the shit. I’ve been reminded that I can do hard things — I can work a full time job in my classroom and work a full time job in my ovaries (I’d argue they have both been more than full time this week.) I have been reminded to honor and respect and love my body.

Right now I am bloated and my pants do not fit and I feel fat (and I know that this is a stupid thought) and my boobs hurt and they didn’t even grow at all with all of the hormones and I have complained about this to my sympathetic husband and I am going to stop now. Goshdarnit I am going to start worshipping this body for all that she does and all that she creates. John Mayer is handsome but also kind of a jerk but I will take his words and run with them. My body is a wonderland. A wonder of creation and beauty. I hope your remember this about your body too.

Our next step in The Hatchery (I think this metaphor might be cracking) is to wait until the end of the month when we will find out which embryos are genetically sound and ready for transfer.

There is plenty of uncertainty — how many eggs were viable for insemination, how many embryos went to blast, will the embryo implant in my womb — but today I am just one Happy Hen.

Note: words throughout the post in italics are hyperlinks

Whatever the Weather: an Icelandic Honeymoon

Note: All italicised words are hyperlinks.

I find that whenever I am about to start a new post, I am inclined to set my current scene. To remind more than my readers, but myself, where I am currently grounded. At present, I am scanning our Seoulful living room, taking in a plant that flourished over the summer and gazing at a wedding photo that has been newly propped on the entry table between the living room and kitchen.

It was a bit strange to come home this week, after a summer of celebrations and our wedding, and our grand honeymoon — when Dae-Han and I walked into our apartment, now as husband and wife, it actually felt more like “home.” What does that even mean, I ask myself now. It felt strange. Unfamiliar. Stuffy. It caused a bit of an ache in me, not a regret that we were back in Seoul, necessarily, but already a missing for Minnesota. For the familiarity of all of the family around us, and nieces’ and nephews’ voices, and game nights, and my original roots.

While Dae-Han noted the strangeness of the apartment, I have watched him settle into Seoul this week so smoothly. This is an interesting part of our relationship — his connection to the city, and my sometimes uncertainty about my place in it. I do not deem this a “good” or “bad” aspect to our life Korea, that he feels so much comfort here and my relationship to Seoul is a bit more … ambiguous. It just is.

So it just is that I have busied myself this week by nesting back into our apartment, to restore my sense of home here. Returning to Seoul nearly two weeks before school begins is affording me the time to do things slowly, and reacquaint myself with life here with patience for that process. I’ve slow cut veggies, taken slower walks, and continued slow reading books that I began before we left for our big wedding summer.

And I keep slowly going through the photos from our summer. The best summer yet. Remembering Dad’s most wise words, though, the best is always yet to come, so this summer is simply the prelude to many more “best summers yet.”

This Best Summer Yet did include, as noted in that title up there, a honeymoon in Iceland. Iceland was a brilliant choice for our honeymoon, and I think you’ll see why as I take you through our itinerary, whose authors are 1. Lindsay’s good friend, and 2. Dae-Han Song.

Day 1: The arrival

I begin here with a screenshot of the itinerary that Dae-Han created in Google sheets.

Important points to note:

1. Renting a car is wise. It would have been wiser to rent a car with 4-wheel drive because Iceland has some rocky terrain. Additionally, when you rent the car, do not let them talk you into the pre-paid refueling. Your jet-lagged brains may miss the refueling station that is literally outside the door of Alamo, but your alert brain reading this now will know better.

2. Breakfast at the airport, or anywhere, will be delicious, but expensive. Two bagels with cream cheese and lox and two coffees will cost $35 — and that will be cheap for Iceland. Likely the cheapest meal that you eat. Iceland is worth it, though. Hey, that salmon is truly fresh.

I do not remember how much this ice cream cost, but no matter, we both do encourage you to find the Omnom Chocolate store. Zac Efron told us about the shop in his Down to Earth Iceland episode and we are glad we followed his lead.

3. My husband wrote relax on our itinerary. This is big because any tension leading up to the trip was about the pace at which we would explore and experience Iceland. I’m a “show up and see what the day brings” kind of woman, and Dae-Han has been schooled to plan every minute of a trip. As it turned out, the newlyweds did find the Goldilocks approach (and sometimes Dae-Han even wanted to slow down more than me!) that seemed to generally suit both of us.

4. The Edition Marriott — Thank you, Mom and Dad, for this gift that made us feel like royalty. The 5-star experience did not disappoint. The location of the Marriott was clutch — we walked to each part of our itinerary from the hotel to fight our jet-lag.

5. Rainbow Street is really awesome. There are so many shops and restaurants and bars. Also, I’m in this place where it’s really fun and novel to say “husband.”

6. Additionally, Rainbow Street leads to …

Hallgrímskirkja. This Lutheran church extends … really high into the sky and has architecture worthy of much marveling. My photos hardly does its beauty justice. If you’re in Reykjavík, go see her majesty in person.

7. Not listed on the itinerary but coming from us to you with two thumbs up is Loving Hut. We ended up here twice during our time in Reykjavík. Very yummy, very fresh.

8. We loved a store called ZO-ON Iceland. It is family run, sustainable and sells great outdoor gear. We chose hats with the logo “Whatever the Weather.” Our stay in Iceland began with a couple of days of wind advisories, and that was just the beginning. In terms of our marriage, we have all the decades to come to weather all of the weather: rainbows, rains, snow, and sun.

Day 2: Plans foiled, new plans made

It was that wind that kept us from what we kept trying to schedule. The puffins. I wanted to do a tour to see puffins, Iceland’s cool soaring seabird.

Puffins. The cutest. Image from: Arctic Adventures

Even if the best laid plans of honeymooners go askew, we weren’t going to spend too much time pouting over it. We instead relaxed with a massage at the hotel — vacation Dae-Han had found his way to Iceland and let go of the notion that we should fill each moment with sight-seeing. Afterwards, we walked to the nearby maritime museum. We loved the museum — in our experience, all of the museums in Reykjavík were wonderful — the exhibits are interactive and the artifacts so interesting.

After the visit to the museum, we ventured to Fly Over Iceland for quite a flight. This simulation has special effects so that you can smell the flower fields you are “flying” over and the winds through the mountains you are flying through.

A few moments after we took this photo, when we were belted into our seats, Dae-Han leaned over to me and said, “Any regrets about your flight today.” “Nah,” I responded. “Okay, well if you get scared, you can just squeeze your husband’s hand,” he replied chivalrously.

We did hold hands the whole time. One of our hands was very sweaty by the time our flight was complete. It wasn’t mine. Hehehe.

At $40 per ticket, I felt the ride was well worth it. Dae-Han says it was worth it “for a honeymoon.”

After flying over Iceland, we decided to walk along the ocean, embracing the wind and enjoying the sun that doesn’t wholly set in the summer. There was a little rain and a spectacular rainbow. And we were loving Iceland, whatever the weather.

Day 3: When the winds don’t go away; and Snaeffellsnes Peninsula

We had tried to reschedule the tour to see puffins, but it was canceled again because the winds wanted to stay. This kept us indoors for the morning and afternoon, which turned out a little treasure and some more inquiring into Iceland’s history.

I love that my husband is a reader. A lover of books. I have no idea where all of the books that keep arriving to our house are going to go — I think we will have to build furniture out of them. Dae-Han did find a book on Icelandic culture at this bazaar across from our hotel and was peppering me with history for the rest of our trip as he consumed the pages.

With new book in hand, we walked to National Museum of Iceland. We loved this museum too. Something we haven’t seen anywhere else (yet) was a rainbow icon that provided audio for a LGBTQ perspective on that part of history. As an educator, I also loved the inquiry questions posted by certain exhibits.

Learning does create quite an appetite and so we made our way to the cheapest meal of the trip (I was mistaken, it wasn’t the breakfast at the airport), the Bæjarins Beztu, Iceland’s famous hot dogs. So good. I toasted Grandpa Art who watches over us with my Pepsi. He would have loved these dogs too.

It was at this point, around 3 pm, that we decided to start a road trip outside of Reykjavík to the Snaeffellsnes Peninsula. Dae-Han had noted on our itinerary that this was a “full day” of sight-seeing. While it’s really cool that Iceland is the land of the midnight sun, I maybe don’t advice driving back from a road trip at midnight while jet-lagged, but I have no regrets about the beautiful sites we saw from 3:30-11:45 pm.

All of the hours we spent on the Icelandic roads throughout our trip were made interesting by 1. Dae-Han’s singalongs with many songs, and 2. story time that often began with a question from a deck of cards a friend had gifted us for our wedding. My answer to question 2 will come with Day 4 below.

Along our route on this road trip was a cute coffee shop, sweet seals, and a stone statue of a saga character.

On our way back to our hotel, we made our final stop at Mount Kirkjufell, the location of some Game of Throne Scenes. Damn, it was beautiful.

Looks almost mythical, right? Welcome to Iceland, where the land is so beautiful it’s surreal.

Day 4: The day that we went down … down ... down …

the length of a whole Statue of Liberty, to the bottom of the belly of a volcano. Thrihnukagigur is a dormant volcano that erupted 4,000 years ago, leaving this deep subterranean world to be discovered only in the last decades. There is no other site like this in the world. It was the most expensive excursion we did in Iceland at $362 per person, but it was our honeymoon. It was worth the adventure. To answer the question on the card, above, what is the most fun way to spend 5 hours? Going on a novel, once-in-a-lifetime adventure with your husband.

The only tour group that you can do this venture with is Inside the Volcano. The guides are great — knowledgeable and personable. You also get to eat this delicious lamb stew when you come out of the volcano.

Lamb stew can only fill you up for so long, so we capped off the evening with a dinner at Sushi Social. It was some delicious fine dining.

After such an adventuresome day, we went back to the hotel and crashed.

Day 5: Oh, those waterfalls

Another day of road-tripping, this time to Thingvellir National Park. It’s worth it to pay to see the visitor center exhibit on the history of the area. After we were saturated with more Viking chronicles, we began a day of easy hiking to stunning sites.

Öxarárfoss Waterfall, and a Jesus-man interloper.

Gullfoss Waterfall. I just … I mean, can you even? The beauty. It’s so wild. So beyond.

The way back from our Golden Road tour to our last night at the Edition Marriott in Reykjavík had us melting into the thermal waters of The Secret Lagoon.

It had been a good day for a great day of taking in more of Iceland’s beauty. I was looking forward to seeing another part of Iceland when we left for Vik the next day, but I felt a bit sad to say goodbye to Reykjavík, a city that boasts history and culture and food, but also runs at a just-right pace for me. Even in the city, people feel so grounded in Iceland. Time does what Time does, though, and the hour came to part with our loft hotel room and city life.

And we were off on the Part 2 of our honeymoon.

Day 6: A little more moon than honey

Does there always come a point in the honeymoon where, for even a few moments, the sweetness is swallowed and something stubborn surfaces? Well, it was on this day, even as the sun never set, as Dae-Han put it, we had some “more moon than honey” moments. I stand by my mood at these moments.

The day started off just fine. The drive to our new lodging, Grand Guesthouse Gardakot was rather lovely as we continued to chat, sing along with songs, and take in the ever-changing landscape.

The arrival to the guesthouse was wonderful. Super cute room, very cozy house, sweet and friendly owners with very happy free range animals — a dog and a rooster and some chickens. We relaxed and read for a bit in the shared living space as we were the only guests there at this time.

And then Dae-Han decided we should adventure. It was determined — I suppose this was a joint decision of sorts — that rather than drive to the beach, we would walk through the tall grasses. The owner of the art shop connected to the guesthouse had said that at this time of year, we may have to take off our shoes and socks to wade through some water, but that it wouldn’t get too deep. (We later learned that what we waded through is quicksand during the springtime.)

I wasn’t too moony yet here — there was something kind of magical about the walk to the beach. Perhaps I was in my head a bit, romanticising it, thinking about I would walk anywhere, through any sand or soil or muck, with my new husband. And then we got to the beach, and that was really pretty.

Dae-Han had really hit his stride here. Full exuberance mode. It was about now, though, that I started to wan … or wax, really, into moon-y-ness. The ocean is beautiful. It had just taken longer to walk there and then walk towards the cliff, and now we had to walk home. And we didn’t have any Snickers bars. And the bewitching hour was going to be upon us.

It was at this point that my new husband, who had just a week previous, listened to Papa Baci, in his Father-of-the-Bride speech, tell of how terrified I was climbing up a steep mountain in Montana a couple of decades ago, decided we should climb up the grassy side of cliff to the top of the cliff rather than just head home. Full moon coming.

Here is my pleading husband. “Please. I really want to climb it. Hey, if it’s too much, we can turn around. Please. Let’s just try it.” I try to reason with him. “I think you are under-estimating this. It’s really steep.” (Additionally, there is no one else around. We don’t know what we’re doing. The woman at the guesthouse said not to climb it without knowing the path to do so really well.)

I saw I was outnumbered by … all of the cells in his body propelling him to step onto that slope and start ascending.

I followed.

Listen, these photos do not do justice to how steep this climb was. Before leaving on our honeymoon, upon hearing of how much adventuring we would be doing, my grandma says to Dae-Han, “Is this a kill your wife honeymoon?” I mean, I’m here to tell about it, but once again, I found myself on a steep climb terrified for my life. At one point, I was lying on the grasses, clenching them with my fist, trying to figure out how to move myself forward because at that point, going down was going to be even worse than trying to scramble to the top.

Obviously we did make it, and at the top, Dae-Han proclaimed, “We were both right. We could do it, and it was harder than I had anticipated.” I did not have a response. A full moon does not speak.

In my wordlessness, we walked atop the cliff, and what do you know, we got to see some puffins. Watching them soar is something else. Was it worth the steep climb? No. We could have driven to the top of this cliff. But I am glad that they added a bit of levity to this moment. Not quite enough for full sentences yet, but they started my waning phase.

We found the honey pot again over burgers and beers at Smiðjan Brugghús, after we had walked home along the roadside, making friends with a lot of sheep. So many sheep.

Alright, I still look a little tight-lipped here. Once I had consumed that whole beer and burger, the sun was starting to rise in the dusk of this day.

Day 7: Hiking Hatta

We woke up in time for the guesthouse’s 8 am breakfast — yummy fresh bread, cheeses, veggies, granola, and good company. We had loved our time at a 5-star hotel, but the guesthouse was affording us a sense of community. There is connection even in fleeting moments, when you won’t see new acquaintances again, but you’ve broken bread over stories of how you came to be where you are and what you’ve loved of Iceland so far.

After loading our day pack into our cute red car, we drove 15 minutes into the heart of Vik, a small seaside village. Vik offers stunning views from the top of Hatta Mountain. The description of this hike noted that it was challenging and that we would not likely encounter many others on the trail. So we began …

Throughout the honeymoon, I was reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass, a nonfiction book that speaks to the beauty and necessity of a relationship of reciprocity between humans and nature. As a botanist and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, Kimmerer’s book is rich in stories — her own and those of her indigenous brethren and ancestors — of what nature has to teach us, the ways in which we have foresaken our connection to and with nature, and visions of how we can restore our relationship.

As we stepped along an increasingly steep path up the mountain, my heart was pounding, my adrenaline rising, my awe unfolding, and Kimmerer’s words returning to me:

“In the Western tradition there is a recognized hierarchy of beings, with, of course, the human being on top—the pinnacle of evolution, the darling of Creation—and the plants at the bottom. But in Native ways of knowing, human people are often referred to as “the younger brothers of Creation.” We say that humans have the least experience with how to live and thus the most to learn—we must look to our teachers among the other species for guidance. Their wisdom is apparent in the way that they live. They teach us by example. They’ve been on the earth far longer than we have been, and have had time to figure things out.”

It was not just this moment on the mountain in Iceland, but our entire trip that reminded me of the sanctity of nature. I felt humbled as a human in the face of Her beauty and bounty. In Iceland, the land has been cared for, not overworked or exploited.

So we took step upon step to reach the summit of Hatta, to be able to take in the sea far below from a new vantage point. As the website had read, we did encounter few others on the trail; in fact, just one other couple had begun ahead of us and then our paths had diverged a bit and we had made our way in front of them. The honey having returned to my veins, I started to wonder … what would it be like to have sex on the side of a mountain. I began to try to calculate how far the couple was behind us now. They weren’t even a speck on the trail, which had become increasing more desolate and winding. I scanned around to see if there were any small grassier patches of earth around. Would Dae-Han go for it? He’d been down to scale a grassy cliff the day before, would he be down for hanky-panky on Hatta?

As I was considering all of this, I lost my footing on the next steep step of the trail, the sexy fantasy shattered by the proverbial mountain lion that had jumped on my back. Survival, I thought. More focus on the summit and less on sex, I reminded myself.

By the time we reached the peak of Hatta, I was rather breathless. Dae-Han, though, retained his ability to narrate this moment.

The hike was so worth it — the view … again, Kimmerer’s words come back to me:

“Paying attention is a form of reciprocity with the living world, receiving the gifts with open eyes and open heart.”

Above, Dae-Han is pointing at sheep. The animals are so happy in Iceland; they are all free-roaming, grazing on grasses, living their lovely lives. We loved the sheep, all of them.

In the matter of mere hours, my husband had become a mountain man, and as I crab-walked down parts of that mountain, he took off his shoes and ran down the trail, bounding along like a student just set free from the captivity of a classroom.

As Kimmerer recognizes, nature is the best teacher. We weren’t really rooting around in the soil or surveying the health of an ecosystem like she often is in her book, but we were reminded to appreciate the power of fresh air and presence in the moment, a commune with our first Mother and each other.

We closed this day by returning to the guesthouse and cooking our own pot of Icelandic lamb stew. We may have tinkered with the spices, but I think we still get to claim authenticity. It was delicious.

Day 8: The tip of the iceberg

Well into the real adventure part of our honeymoon, Dae-Han had signed us up for a big day. First, hiking a glacier, followed by kayaking amongst icebergs, capped off with our final Icelandic hike. We used Arctic Adventures to book a package that included the hiking and kayaking.

While the glacier hike wasn’t a highlight for either of us, it certainly wasn’t a loss. It was pretty. We got to drink glacier water. The guides were great.

I think what happened with our perspective on the glacier is that it just couldn’t hold a candle to the rest of the day.

When I hear “tip of the iceberg” it often has an ominous connotation. We may think of the sinking of the Titanic, the captain unaware of the danger of the iceberg because he could not see below the surface of the waters to see how the heavy ice plunged into the dark depths, bringing great danger to the ship and passengers.

Indeed icebergs can be dangerous if we do not know how to navigate around them; if we do not understand how to respect their space in their waters.

Our guide for this two-hour expedition was a French man who had been living in Iceland for 18 years. Laurent told us that we needed to follow his lead carefully, not diverting onto our own path in the water. Sometimes icebergs flip over. This is awe-some to watch, and it is important to keep some distance as “big icebergs have big consequences” when they create waves from their somersaults.

As we glided through the waters for these two hours, what we took in was grandeur, mystery, and pristine beauty. The afternoon inspired teamwork, evoked imagination, and illicited a lot of “ooohs,” “ahhh's” and “wowwws.”

As I look back on this day, I find myself connecting the icebergs and the adventure to marriage. It took skill, care, and consciousness to navigate around the glaciers. It took some patience and communication to coordinate our movements. It is true that an iceberg could have inadvertently tipped our canoe as it turned over in the water, and that would have been perhaps both scary, surprising, and … pretty darn cold. But we would have had the opportunity to help each other right the kayak and get back in, probably shivering for awhile, but synching our paddle strokes to get to land and dry off. (I am certain I will need to return to my own words here when we have our “tippy canoe” days.)

Icebergs are these organic bodies that are both known and enigmatic at once. If you bring your presence as an offering to shared space with them, they gift you breathtaking beauty.

The beauty of our day did not end with the icebergs. I got on board with Dae-Han’s desire for at least one full day of activities, and this led us up a trail to Múlagljúfur Canyon. When you go to Iceland, we recommend you put this hike on your itinerary too.

Day 9: The Blue Lagoon

For our final night in Iceland, we had splurged on a night at the Silica Hotel, a short 200 meter walk from the famed Blue Lagoon. We had sparkling wine and put on face masks while we enjoyed the thermal pools. The Silica does have its own private lagoon as well, which is quieter and maybe a bit more peaceful than the Blue Lagoon, but I am grateful we got to experience both.

Day 10: See you next time, Iceland

Throughout our time in Iceland, I had an ongoing negotiation with Dae-Han in my mind about moving there. It is true that I want to live in all of the places and live all kinds of lives. Perhaps Iceland also spoke to my Scandinavian blood because I just could not stop thinking about a life in this grounded, beautiful, best-kept-secret of a country.

It is also true that Dae-Han and I ground each other in different ways. I know that for the foreseeable future we will be nurturing our Korean nest.

But we did talk about returning to Iceland for our 5-year anniversary. For this second trip, we think we’ll rent a camper van and see more of Iceland by parking at some of its campsites in various national parks.

Looking back over the photos from our trip, I am grateful to be in the canoe with you. Whatever the weather.

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Bonus Material: A Baci Song Wedding

If you’ve traveled through these 10 days and you are still with me, I wanted to add some notes and photos from our wedding weekend. I was not a woman who had had some clear image of what she wanted her wedding day to look like since she was young, but the youngest of the Bacichx brought to fruition the most beautiful of days. Dae-Han and I have unending gratitude that we essentially rocked into town and asked where we needed to be at what time.

The wedding fun began when the Songs came in from California. I had a hunch that the Song’s and the Baci’s would hit it off, but honestly, what developed between our families has been something so special — we are looking forward to the next time that our nieces and nephews get to play together, and when the adults get to compete in the next game of Pegs and Jokers.

We started our wedding day with a run with a few friends. Dae-Han at first questioned why I would want to expend energy on a run when the day was going to demand so much of us, but after our 5k, he gave the idea two thumbs up.

Oh boy. All of these moments keep squeezing my heart as I pour over these photos.

I think it was a combination of the way there is such an ease between our families, the sisterhood of grandma-mama-sisters-nieces, being 40 years old rather than 24, and marrying my just right man that made me feel so grounded the whole day. People say that your wedding day goes by in a blur. But the thing is, I can remember mostly every moment with clarity.

Like this moment, from the bridal room at our venue, The University Club.

And the moments of The First Look with Dae-Han.

And with my papa.

I remember the texture of these moments as the wedding party lined up to begin the processional, some of our flower children following their fearless leader Natalie, and then Greta leaping into Cassie’s arms as she and Linds and Min-Kuk began their walk.

I remember the moment right before I turned the corner with Dad to walk down the isle, when I saw the emotion on my Aunties’ faces and felt my own emotion broaden and stretch across my heart and chest, bringing deep and happy tears to the surface.

I remember these moments ….

And all of these …

After the ceremony, there were great and funny and sentimental and witty speeches from Min-Kuk, Linds and Cass, and Dad. And then we started the reception with some choreographed dances by Dad and I and Dae-Han and I and our wedding party. So. Much. Fun.

I remember cutting the cake that Natalie made for us. When Natalie and Gia were a bit younger, I would enroll them in Auntie Jamie’s Little Sobrina School of Baking when I was home during the summers. This history made the fact that she baked our cake even sweeter.

This baker has also started her own website called Limitless wherein she seeks to support and share stories of others with spina bifida.

And then there are all the moments in between and before and after all of these that I remember. My gratitude for our friends and family that support us and celebrated with us is so expansive …. like a great big fluffy Minnesota summer cloud. I hope you feel it floating over you now, whether you were there on our wedding day or you are reading this now. We love you. We are so grateful for you.

And my heavens, I am grateful for this man. I hope this sense of wonder that I feel today, that we get to spend the rest of our days together, stretches on and on and on into all of the days to come.

 “And for love, I will be, you will be, we will be.” ~Pablo Neruda