Week nine. We are officially deep into the fourth trimester—still bleeding (emotionally), still bonding (with caffeine), and still baffled by how many hours a baby can scream without taking a breath.

I think I might be getting better at this. Either that, or I’m losing my mind so completely that it feels like confidence. Either way, I’m brushing my teeth most days now, and that feels like a personal renaissance.

Baby is Thriving. I Am…Also Here.

The baby is now making eye contact, cooing, and recognizing my face. Which is adorable, but also means I can no longer sneak past them like a ninja and pretend I don’t exist when they cry. They know me. I’m their person. There is no escape.

Meanwhile, I looked in the mirror this week and said, “Who is she?” Not in a cute way. In a “I have bags under my eyes that have their own luggage tags” kind of way. But I also didn’t cry about it. That’s growth, right?

Adventures in Leaving the House (Again)

We attempted another public outing this week, which can only be described as a militarized operation with breast pads. Between diaper blowouts, unpredictable naps, and me forgetting half the diaper bag, it felt like a live-action simulation of a mom-themed survival show.

But we made it. We went outside. I wore pants that buttoned. I didn’t cry in the parking lot. Success all around.

My New Life Coach is a Sound Machine

I’ve become so reliant on the white noise machine that I now crave it even when the baby’s not sleeping. It soothes me. It’s my therapist. It’s the only one in the house who doesn’t have an opinion, a rash, or a weird relationship with pacifiers.

If someone unplugged it, I would probably dissolve into a fine maternal dust.

Am I Okay? A Flow Chart:

• Did I eat? No → Not okay.
• Did the baby nap? No → Definitely not okay.
• Did I pee in peace? Yes → Actually, doing better than usual.
• Did someone say “you’re doing great” today? No → I’ll be crying shortly.

So… mixed results. But I’m learning that “okay” is fluid. Some days it means I brushed my hair. Other days it means I just survived. And both count.

If You’re in Week Nine, Too

This week might feel long. Like long-long. Like “how are there still 3 hours until bedtime and we’ve been up since 4 a.m.” kind of long. But in the middle of that, there are tiny wins worth noticing:

• You know your baby better than anyone else in the world now.
• You’ve probably mastered at least one weird, unnecessary baby skill (like bouncing while squatting).
• You’re still here. Still loving. Still trying. That’s no small thing.

So cheers to week nine. We may not have it all together, but we’ve stopped Googling “is this normal” every six minutes. Only every nine now. Progress.

With love, leftovers, and lukewarm coffee, Miriam