Tag: postpartum recovery

Day Five Postpartum: I Brushed My Teeth, and Other Triumphs

MiriamLeave a comment

My standards are low. My love is high. My shirt is… questionable.

Day Five is a strange one. You’re starting to *almost* feel like a person again. You’ve learned how to hold a baby while peeing. You’ve accepted that your house will never be clean again. And you’ve developed the highly specific skill of sniffing your own armpits and deciding “eh, good enough.”

There’s something about Day Five that’s both grounding and completely surreal. I’m no longer surprised when I find poop on my arm. I’ve stopped crying over spilled milk (mostly because I’ve already cried all my body’s water supply out). And I’m starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m getting the hang of this whole “keeping a human alive” thing.

1. I Brushed My Teeth Before Noon

I want to start with the highlight of my day: I brushed my teeth. Before noon. While holding the baby. I deserve a medal, a parade, or at the very least a warm croissant.

Did I also brush my hair? No. But I did attempt to fix the one piece sticking out sideways by wetting it with breastmilk. It’s a strategy I do *not* recommend, but it was there and it was warm.

2. My Wardrobe Is a Cry for Help

I’ve been wearing the same pair of maternity leggings for three days. They smell like lanolin and hope. I put on a shirt today that was technically clean but had a mysterious crusty spot I chose to ignore because, honestly, I’m out of energy and detergent.

I’ve now entered the postpartum style phase I call “tactical pajamas.” Everything must: be boob-accessible stretch in four directions not show milk stains (black is risky, gray is worse, tie-dye is ideal)

I used to care about clothes. Now I just care about whether this robe can double as a nursing cover, blanket, and tissue.

3. The Emotional Terrain: Still a Swamp

I’m emotionally unstable in the most impressive ways. This morning I cried because I found a sock small enough to fit my baby’s foot. Then I cried because the baby *kicked it off* and I couldn’t find it for three whole minutes.

I cried watching a TikTok of a dog greeting a toddler. I cried because my sandwich had pickles when I said no pickles. Then I cried because I actually like pickles now and don’t even know who I am anymore.

In conclusion: I am no longer in control of my own face. Tears just happen. My eyes are basically sprinkler systems now.

4. The Baby: My Whole World, My Tiny Dictator

He’s starting to recognize my voice. He quiets a little when I talk. He looks at me like I’m magic (probably because I am — I can make milk with my body, come on).

He still hates the bassinet. He’ll only sleep on me, which means I’m learning how to live horizontally while simultaneously sending emails with my pinky and Googling “how long can one person hold their pee.”

Every coo is a miracle. Every scream is… well, it’s a lot. But I’m adjusting to the rhythm: feed, burp, cry, poop, repeat. Like the world’s messiest looped song.

5. My Partner and I Made Eye Contact

Today, we looked at each other — really looked — and laughed. Not in the “haha life is funny” way but in the “we’re feral and exhausted and somehow still functioning” way.

We didn’t have a romantic moment. We didn’t sit down for a quiet dinner. But we handed the baby back and forth in silence like a little team of love-drunk zombies. And that’s something. Actually, that’s everything right now.

He also made me toast. I cried. (See section 3.)

6. My Body: A Work in Progress (With Leaks)

The bleeding is slowing. My boobs are still massive and randomly angry. But the afterpains are easing. I don’t wince every time I sit down anymore — just every other time.

I saw a stretch mark today and smiled. It looks like a little lightning bolt. Like my skin marked the moment I became something new — someone stronger, scarier, softer.

Still won’t be wearing jeans until 2026, though. Let’s be realistic.

Final Thoughts: Day Five Feels Like a Shaky Kind of Strength

Five days ago, I gave birth. I’m not sure how that’s even possible. Time moves differently now — some hours feel like years, some days disappear between feeding sessions and diaper explosions.

But this strange, sleepy, leaky life is starting to feel like mine. It’s not glamorous. It’s not easy. But it’s real. It’s powerful. It’s love at its messiest.

I’m doing it. Not perfectly. Not quietly. But wholeheartedly.

To the moms out there on Day Five: You’re not failing. You’re adapting. You’re learning your baby and yourself all at once. And that’s a freaking miracle. 💪🍼🥴

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. 💤🍼💪😭