Tag: mom survival

Week Four Postpartum: Still Surviving, Slightly More Awake

MiriamLeave a comment

Sleep is still optional, but I’m learning to function on less caffeine (sort of).

Four weeks in, and if you asked me how I’m doing, I’d probably respond with a tired smile and a big ol’ shrug. This week has been a mix of small wins, surprise setbacks, and discovering that a spit-up stain can be a fashion statement.

The fog is a little lighter, the nights are a bit less brutal, and the bond with my tiny dictator? Stronger than ever — even if he still rules with a tiny, spit-up-soaked iron fist.

1. The Baby’s Schedule Is a Puzzle I’m Slowly Solving

He’s starting to have more predictable naps (hallelujah) and feedings that don’t always feel like a hostage negotiation. I’m learning the signs: the yawns, the little fists in the mouth, the dramatic sighs.

Sometimes I even get to shower without an audience. Sometimes.

2. My Body Is Still Doing Its Own Thing

The bleeding has slowed, but the aches and random pains are still here — like a souvenir from the birth marathon.

My boobs? They’re either full-on geysers or completely empty, with no warning in between. I’m keeping nursing pads in every room, just in case.

I’m still rocking the “mom bun” and have developed a complex relationship with dry shampoo. It’s my new best friend.

3. Emotional Waves: Less Tsunami, More Gentle Surf

The emotional roller coaster has slowed a bit, but I still have moments of unexpected tears — like when my baby finally sleeps for two hours straight, or when I watch a heartfelt commercial.

There’s also a lot of gratitude, a growing confidence, and the realization that I’m doing way better than I give myself credit for.

4. Partner Life: Learning to Co-Parent Like Pros (Sort Of)

My partner and I are figuring out this whole tag-team parenting thing. We still haven’t had a date night, but we laugh more, communicate better, and share baby duties like champions.

He still can’t fold tiny clothes properly, but that’s okay. We’re a team, and that’s what matters.

5. Finding Small Joys in the Chaos

This week, I’ve learned to celebrate the little things: a hot cup of coffee, a clean diaper, a sleepy cuddle. These tiny moments keep me going.

And yes, I still cry sometimes — but now I’m okay with it. Because this journey is messy, beautiful, exhausting, and full of love.

Final Thoughts: Week Four — Progress, Not Perfection

Four weeks postpartum and I’m still here. Still healing. Still loving. Still figuring it out one spit-up and sleepless night at a time.

To all the moms in Week Four: Keep going. You’re stronger than you think, and you’re doing an incredible job. Remember — progress, not perfection. 🌟🍼❤️

Week Three Postpartum: I’m Still Alive (Mostly) and Mostly Asleep

MiriamLeave a comment

Sleep is a myth, my house is a mess, and somehow, I love this tiny human anyway.

Welcome to Week Three — where the baby’s schedule is still unpredictable, but I’ve officially stopped checking the clock every five minutes. Mostly because I’m too tired to care.

If you asked me what the last three weeks have been like, I’d say: equal parts joy, exhaustion, and trying to figure out where all my clean underwear went.

Here’s the beautiful chaos of Week Three, in all its messy glory.

1. The Baby Is Practicing His Tiny Dictator Skills

He’s gotten good at staring me down like I’m supposed to read his mind. He has preferences now — mostly involving boob-on-demand and an aversion to any movement resembling putting him down.

He has also discovered his voice. The crying is getting louder, the grunts more dramatic, and the “I want out” wiggles more frantic.

But when he sleeps? It’s like the world pauses for a hot second, and I try not to panic that it’ll end.

2. My Body Is Still a Wonderland of Surprises

Week three means some healing, but also new aches. I’m learning what it feels like to have a uterus that occasionally decides it’s auditioning for a twerking competition.

My boobs have taken on a life of their own — sometimes painfully full, sometimes suspiciously empty — like a hormonal roller coaster without seat belts.

And I’ve accepted that sweatpants are my new formalwear, at least until further notice.

3. The Emotional Roller Coaster Has No Brakes

I laughed until I cried over a dog video. I sobbed because I miss pre-baby naps. I got mad at my partner for a whole five minutes because he didn’t replace the last roll of toilet paper.

Then I apologized, realizing I probably overreacted. It’s the hormones, the sleep deprivation, the overwhelming love and fear all rolled into one messy ball of feelings.

4. Finding Moments of Peace (When Possible)

Between diaper changes, feedings, and laundry, I’ve started to find tiny pockets of calm. Sometimes it’s a hot cup of tea. Sometimes it’s sitting quietly while the baby naps on my chest (even if it cramps my arm).

These moments feel like tiny victories — reminders that amidst the chaos, there is still softness and stillness.

5. Partner Life: Still Learning, Still Loving

My partner has become an expert diaper changer (almost). He’s learning the difference between sleepy fuss and actual distress. And even though romance is on hold, the teamwork is real.

We laugh at our mutual exhaustion and celebrate the small wins — like surviving the night without accidentally waking the baby.

Final Thoughts: Week Three — Still Surviving, Still Loving

Three weeks in, and I’m still figuring this out. Some days are beautiful, some are brutal, and most are somewhere in between.

But through it all, the love grows — messy, imperfect, but fierce.

To all the mamas in Week Three: You’re doing amazing. Even if you feel like a walking zombie, you’re a superhero. And yes, those sweatpants were made for you. 🦸‍♀️🍼💖

Day Seven Postpartum: A Whole Week, Baby

MiriamLeave a comment

We made it. I cried. The baby cried. A banana got lost in my bed. This is motherhood.

Day Seven. Seven days since my body broke open and my heart doubled in size. Seven days since I became someone new: someone who leaks from five places, cries over paper towels, and somehow manages to function on 2 hours of sleep and a stale granola bar.

A week ago, I had a baby. And today, I still have that baby. Which means I’ve kept a human alive for seven days straight. That’s right — I’m officially qualified to be a wildlife handler, trauma nurse, and UN peacekeeper.

This has been the longest, fastest, most beautiful and horrifying week of my life. Let’s recap Day Seven before I cry again. (Spoiler: I will cry again.)

1. The Baby Has Opinions Now

He’s developed preferences. For example:

  • He likes warm milk and warm arms.
  • He dislikes literally everything else.

He now makes a high-pitched, tiny demon noise when I dare to move him an inch away from my chest. He prefers to sleep on me, while I’m slightly tilted, facing northeast, with white noise, and one sock on. Any deviation is a betrayal.

He is still adorable. Especially when he sneezes. (He sneezed six times today. I cried every time. Why? Hormones.)

2. My Milk Came In. So Did My Insanity.

Day Seven boobs are not for the weak. They are enormous, engorged, and sentient. I woke up feeling like someone filled my chest with bricks and rage. One breast was slightly bigger than the other and I whispered “traitor” to it under my breath.

I leaked through two shirts, three pads, and a fitted sheet. I tried to hand-express and squirted myself directly in the eye. A humbling moment.

I used to wear nice bras. Now I just tuck folded burp cloths into my shirt and call it fashion.

3. My Brain Is a Soggy Waffle

I put the peanut butter in the fridge and the milk in the cabinet. I spent five full minutes trying to remember what day of the week it was. (It’s *Day Seven,* that’s all I need to know.)

I forgot how to spell my last name. I texted someone “brb baby spaghetti” and have no idea what I meant. I started a sentence, paused to sneeze, and never remembered what I was saying.

But I somehow remembered to burp the baby, sanitize the pacifier, and sing “Twinkle Twinkle” seventeen times in a row. So, brain: not totally useless.

4. I Saw Myself in the Mirror. It Was… A Moment.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror this morning. I was wearing mesh underwear, a nursing bra, and a robe that I think was originally white but now looks like it survived a milk explosion. My hair was in a bun held together by a baby sock. I looked like a ghost who used to be hot.

And yet… I smiled. Because I know what that body did. I know what that face has been through. I know what that robe has wiped up. This is not my final form. But it’s a sacred one.

5. My Partner Brought Me Coffee, and I Wept

He walked in with a coffee and said, “I made it how you like it.”

I cried like he proposed all over again. I clutched the cup like it was holy. I drank half of it cold, one sip at a time, between diaper changes and feedings. Best coffee of my life.

We haven’t had a real conversation in days. We communicate in gestures and grunts. But there is love here. Quiet, exhausted love. Like a slow-burning candle in a blackout. It’s enough.

6. I’m Starting to Believe I Can Do This

There was a moment this afternoon. The baby was fed and swaddled. The dishes were sort of done. The sun was shining. And I sat down, took a breath, and realized:

I’m doing it.

Not perfectly. Not glamorously. But every day I show up. Every night I rock him. Every morning I say, “We got this, baby.”

That’s what being a mom is. Not flawless. Just faithful. Just full of love and milk and fierce, messy devotion.

Final Thoughts: One Week In

Day Seven feels like the edge of a cliff and the start of a sunrise. I’ve cried more in one week than I did all last year. I’ve laughed while crying. Cried while laughing. Fed a baby with one hand while Googling “how to swaddle without rage.”

I’ve loved deeper. Felt more fragile. Been more powerful. All in the same 24 hours.

To all the moms on Day Seven: You made it. And you’ll keep making it. Through the mess and the magic. Through the doubt and the wonder. You are incredible. Don’t let the crusty pajamas fool you — you’re made of steel and stardust. 💛🍼🌙

Day Four Postpartum: I’ve Become One with the Couch

MiriamLeave a comment

My baby’s asleep on my chest. I have to pee. Guess I live here now.

Day Four. We’re deep in it now.

By this point, I’ve forgotten what day of the week it is, what my feet look like, and when I last used a fork. Time is an illusion. My baby is my boss. I have 47 half-drunk cups of water around the house, and I now refer to my breast pump as “Linda.”

I’m somewhere between surviving and thriving — I call it surthriving — and today brought a delightful mix of tiny triumphs, weird body stuff, and the growing suspicion that I might never be alone again for the next 18 years.

1. The Baby Is Glued to Me

Today, my baby decided the only acceptable place to nap was directly on my chest, preferably with a fist full of my bra strap. I tried transferring him to his bassinet and he immediately screamed like I was handing him off to the devil.

So I just… sat there. For three hours. I had to pee. I was hungry. I could hear my phone buzzing with unread texts. Didn’t matter. The baby was asleep and I wasn’t about to ruin the one silent moment we’d had all morning.

I accepted my fate. I became one with the couch. I used a granola bar wrapper as a napkin. I stared into the middle distance and whispered, “This is my life now.”

2. Milk Brain Is Real

I opened the fridge looking for my phone. I found it an hour later in the diaper drawer.

I put nipple cream on my lips and lip balm on my nipples.

I forgot my own zip code when trying to place an online order for nursing pads.

My brain is a beautiful place. A foggy, hormonal, leaky swamp of a place, but beautiful nonetheless.

3. Crying? Still a Thing!

I cried today because I looked at a photo of myself pregnant and thought, “She had no idea.”

I cried because my baby made a weird little coo noise that sounded like he said “hi.”

I cried because my partner brought me a sandwich without asking, and I hadn’t even told him I was hungry. That sandwich meant more to me than our wedding vows.

I also cried because my baby pooped directly into my hand. But that was more of a laughing-while-crying situation. Growth?

4. My Body: She’s Trying Her Best

I still look six months pregnant. I still shuffle when I walk. I still sit down with the care and speed of a 97-year-old woman who just ran a marathon.

But! I showered today. I shaved exactly one leg. I put on clean-ish leggings. I even wore deodorant that wasn’t from 2022. We celebrate the wins here, okay?

Also, I’m officially an expert in sneezing while clenching every pelvic muscle in my body. It’s an Olympic sport and I would medal.

5. My Partner: Slowly Learning the Art of Not Breathing Loudly

Today, he asked, “Do you want to watch something together later?”

I looked at him with the weary eyes of a woman who hasn’t watched a single TV show without falling asleep during the opening credits in four days.

“Sure,” I said. “If I’m still conscious.”

We didn’t watch anything. But he rubbed my feet while I nursed and didn’t ask a single follow-up question when I said I was overwhelmed because the burp cloths don’t all match. That’s love now. Burp cloth compatibility. Foot rubs. Sandwiches with extra pickles.

6. The Baby: My Tiny, Sassy Roommate

He makes so many faces now. One of them looks like a tiny judge about to declare me guilty of insufficient boob supply. One is a pure, sleepy bliss face that makes me want to cry and freeze time forever.

He’s figured out that nighttime means party time. He naps all day like a little prince, and then around 9 PM he opens his eyes like, “Wassup fam, let’s rage.”

I sing to him. He poops. I whisper sweet nothings. He throws up in my cleavage. I call it bonding.

Final Thoughts: Day Four Is Soft and Sharp at the Same Time

Four days ago, I gave birth. I was one person then. I’m a totally new one now.

Every hour, I become more of this mother version of me — raw, weepy, powerful, hilarious, exhausted, in love.

I know I’m still healing. I know I’ll probably cry again in 12 minutes. I know I’ll wonder if I’m doing any of this right. But I also know this:

  • I am my baby’s favorite place in the world.
  • I can feed and soothe and swaddle like a boss.
  • I am strong — like, *ridiculously* strong — even if my pants are unbuttoned and I haven’t peed alone in four days.

To the Day Four moms out there: You’re in it now. It’s tender and tough and totally insane. But you’ve got this. Take a deep breath. And maybe a nap. If the baby lets you. 💤🍼💪😭