The bleeding continues. So do the tears. And the baby’s side-eye is getting stronger.

I’m officially two weeks postpartum. That’s 14 days of feeding a baby, bleeding profusely, questioning my life choices, and Googling things like “can a newborn smell fear?”

People say the second week is when you start finding your rhythm. And while I wouldn’t say I’ve found a rhythm, I have definitely found the ability to change a diaper with one hand and cry while doing it.

Let’s break down this beautifully messy week, shall we?

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1. The Boobs Have Entered Their Diva Era

The milk supply has “regulated,” which I assume is code for: still leaking constantly, but now in a more emotionally manipulative way.

One breast always fills faster. The other is the lazy coworker doing the bare minimum. I’ve developed a personal vendetta against my own chest.

I still haven’t figured out how to nurse in public without exposing 90% of my torso and one stretch-marked side roll. So I mostly stay home. Shirtless. Weeping. Like a hormonal hermit crab.

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2. Emotionally Speaking, I’m a Tornado in a Bathrobe

I cried this week because:

• The baby smiled (gas? love? who knows?)
• I dropped a cracker and was too tired to pick it up
• I watched a TikTok where a cat hugged a baby
• I missed my old self, then felt guilty for missing her

Some moments I feel like the strongest woman alive. Other moments I feel like a damp sock. Postpartum is truly just a game of emotional roulette, where every spin lands on “surprise crying.”

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3. My Relationship Is Now 90% Logistics

My partner and I have exchanged 7,000 words this week. 6,942 of those words were “Did you grab the burp cloth?”

We high-five after good burps. We nod solemnly during poop blowouts. We haven’t made eye contact since the baby was born, but we pass each other snacks like loving coworkers in a very dysfunctional startup.

Intimacy? Not even on the horizon. But he did bring me water in the middle of a cluster feed, and honestly, that’s hotter than flowers right now.

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4. My Baby Is a Tiny Dictator

This child now rules my household with an iron fist wrapped in a muslin swaddle.

He hates being put down. He demands 24/7 boob access. He naps only when the dishwasher is running, a siren is wailing, and I’m sitting perfectly still with no snacks within reach.

He also smells like heaven, clutches my finger like I’m his whole world, and once sneezed so dramatically I almost called 911. So… I forgive him.

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5. What Even Is Time Anymore?

It’s either 3am or 3pm. I don’t know. The days are long and the nights are a Netflix mini-series of me Googling “is this normal?” while the baby breastfeeds for the 40th time.

Showers are scheduled like international travel. My phone is filled with blurry baby photos and half-written text replies that start with “sorry just seeing this!”

Some days I feel like I’m drowning. Other days, I float. Every day, I survive. And that counts.

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Final Thoughts: Week Two in the Trenches

Week two postpartum is when the dust starts to settle — just enough for you to realize you’re still standing in the middle of a storm.

Your body is still healing. Your baby is still learning how to be alive. And you? You’re doing the impossible: showing up, every minute, every hour, with cracked nipples, swollen emotions, and a love so fierce it could knock you off your feet.

You’re not failing. You’re just becoming. Becoming a mother. Becoming yourself again, only different. Stronger. Wilder. Softer. More real than ever.

To all the mamas in Week Two: You’ve got this. You’re doing better than you think. And if no one’s told you today — your hair looks kind of amazing in that messy bun, and yes, that spit-up stain does make you look edgy.

See you next week. Probably in pajamas. Definitely holding coffee. ☕🍼💛