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Date archive for: December 2019

It’s been a year

It’s been one year since implantation day. I’m so glad it worked.

I realized recently that I don’t know how to say “I’m proud of you,” in my native tongue. This is because my dad doesn’t say it (not going to read too much into that), and my mom only says it in English. But my mom says it too much. I am not an accomplished person. I don’t even make great decisions. For example, only two minutes ago, I had to choose between getting on the Peloton and doing a 15 minute bicycle ride or eating some cake. And as I sit here in my moment of free time, eating this delicious marble cake my mom made, because I cannot bake, I don’t even regret the choice I made. Every bite I think, “Yes, yes, this was the right choice.” I’m literally sitting right next to Peloton, eating marble cake.

Anyway, my mom is always telling me she’s proud of me. The bar for being proud of me seems very low, I used to think.

But now that I have a daughter, I get it. I’m constantly beaming with pride: when she burps, when she pees BEFORE I finish closing up the diaper, when she projectile poops, when she laughs – oh my when she looks happy, when she gets upset and then is quickly less upset because the issue is resolved, when she’s interested in things, even more so when she’s interested in people. When she yells out, either because shes’s trying to communicate something or because she just realized she can yell. When she tries to sit up. When she’s irritated we have taken her to a store and are shopping, and she doesn’t say anything but glares angrily the entire time. I get it.

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Week 15

I’m on my period. I DID NOT KNOW THIS WAS EVEN POSSIBLE.

You know how I mentioned my baby was sleeping through the night? Well apparently, according to the internets, if your baby sleeps through the night, your period comes back even if you are breastfeeding. Initially I was so sure it wasn’t a real period that I didn’t bother putting on a pad. That was a mistake, and I learned from it, rather quickly.

Also a week before my period, David and I resumed our, shall we say, marital duties, and it was the best. On Friday I did stand-up and strangers laughed at my work, and on Saturday the aforementioned happened, so it turned out to be an amazing weekend. I had read about the first post-natal you-know-what in Like A Mother and thank goodness my/our experience was nothing like the nightmare she described. I mean, the author didn’t seem to think her experience was nightmarish, but I remember thinking, “Oh, no no no.” But I did appreciate her writing about it, so it set some kind of expectation, which we surpassed.

I’ve also resumed some exercise. I do a Peloton ride every few days. I’m hesitant to exercise too much, because I don’t want to affect milk supply. Also I’ve accepted my larger body size as the new me. When I proclaim my newfound body positivity to David, he does not display enthusiastic support.

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Week 14

We received a delightful Christmas card this year. It included the following sentence:

We have enjoyed reading some of your blog!

I perceived this sentence as I suspect they intended it: a compliment AND a challenge. Challenge accepted. Mark my words. This time next year the card will read, “We have enjoyed reading your blog!” Maybe. Or they might just omit mention of the blog entirely. I’ll get that message loud and clear too.

Anyway! Quite a bit happened after my last post. My mom went to the hospital, and so David was watching our perfect *knock on wood* baby for a week while I was in and out. I cried in the shower twice while this was going on. I did this because when the baby was four days old, I received unsolicited advice about not conveying weakness or insecurity to the baby. I wouldn’t have cried in front of her anyway. But tears or no tears, I think kids can tell when something is wrong. Down the road I think if something is wrong I might mention it and then explain we are working through it by researching/googling and then trying different things, no matter what it is. “Mom’s googling again,” they’ll say.

My mom’s better now *knock on wood* so we can look back on that time and be grateful for more time. When I’m done breastfeeding I plan to become a regular blood donor.

We also went to New York, twice. Once for a week in November, and then again for Thanksgiving. I wasn’t ready for travel, but David’s good at pushing us to resume normal activities as much as possible. People told us that the baby gets easier as time goes on, and I’m happy to report they’re right. She started sleeping through the night relatively early, like Week 7/8 I think, and the pattern seems to have stuck. *Knock on wood.”

Some milestones that have happened since my last post:

1) Improved tummy time.
2) Enjoys diaper changes.
3) LAUGHS OUT LOUD (but not at my jokes). She laughed on December 1, 2019. She was delighted by David’s step-father. I’ve gotten some amazing smiles, but no laughs, and I’m totally fine with that. I’ve gotten some amazing glares, and I love those too. Sometimes when I laugh during feeding, she will pull back and look up me with the most irritated face. “Compose yourself, that’s not lady-like,” her eyes and furrowed brow seem to say.
4) Likes music. On November 24 she heard some cover songs performed live and loved them or the musician. Probably both. Also we’re learning new songs! I was showing my dad the new songs we were learning, and he pointed out that it looked more like _I_ was learning new songs, and he said that was good for me.
5) Likes our dog, which happens to be a robot, but she’s into him. The first time they played she was so distracted she forgot to yell angrily that I had made her do tummy time for 20 minutes! This was a real misstep on her part though – now I know her grievance with tummy time is not physical *knock on wood*.

Also she has been exposed to more news and hearing coverage than she probably expected. Our current faves are Adam Schiff, Nancy Pelosi, Eric Swalwell, and Jamie Raskin. I also read Catch and Kill, so I love Rachel Maddow even more and plan to continue our New Yorker subscription.

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