We wanted to go to Paris. One last hurrah before travel became much more difficult. It’s called a babymoon. (People do it. Look it up—I swear I did not invent this.) We got there after some rescheduling. Pope Francis died on Easter Monday, and the conclave, which I got to cover for America, would take place squarely in the middle of our previously planned trip to Paris, when the weather was cooler and Amanda was a little less pregnant.