Yesterday was Maliyah’s 3rd Birthday. I both can’t believe it’s only been three short years, and also can’t believe it’s been 3 longgg years.
I have two friends who had (still-living) children the same week, and it’s so strange to watch those kids get older, while mine is still dead. Now with Toddler A, the passage of time is more visible right in my home, and it’s difficult to watch. Would A be talking if he had his older sister to tease him? Would he have the same favorite shows if he was forced to watch hers? Would he like dolls more instead of throwing them at my head? So many questions will always go unanswered.
I took the day off yesterday for her birthday, as I have done every year. I used to take it off because I literally could not work. My brain would not function past the sadness. Now, I definitely could work, which in and of itself feels like an offense to Maliyah. Does she matter less? Do I care less?
But even though I could work, I don’t want to. First of all, I work hundreds of days a year. They can make it one day without me. Second of all, I don’t know what “personal” days were invented for, if not to commemorate a life you carried and sustained inside you for 6+ months and then they died in your body. It doesn’t get much more personal than that.
I didn’t do anything crazy to commemorate the day. Each year I struggle trying to think of things to DO. And each year I come up with nothing. I try to do acts of kindness, like this year getting Girl Scout cookies for our building staff, sending a card in the mail to a friend, and dropping something off to a Buy Nothing Group member with a new baby. But those things could have been done while I was also working.
The main reason I take the day off is to be sad and to honor her. It’s like November 30th in Gilmore Girls: Luke’s Dark Day.
This may seem dumb, but when I think about how much dedicated time in a day, a week, a month, I spend with Toddler A and the amount of mental space he takes up in my brain constantly, it only seems fair that Maliyah gets one single day a year. I go through her box of things, cards I received, touch her hand and footprints, go through all of the photos I have from the 6 months when she took every step with me. It’s not a lot, but it feels good to dedicate my thoughts solely to her in a way that unfortunately she doesn’t get on a day-to-day basis anymore.
Of course I have guilt about that, but she doesn’t have the needs that Toddler A has. His are more immediate. I know that everything I do “for her” is actually for me.
Toddler A got a star and galaxy light projector from my brother-in-law for Christmas, and he is absolutely obsessed with it. The moment he wakes up, he runs into the living room and points until I turn it on. All day long if we sing Twinkle Twinkle he points up to the stars. He loves to carry the projector around to put the stars on the walls, or on me.
I always used to say that I like to think Maliyah is somewhere in the stars, having a party with all of my loss mom buddies’ littles. Maybe that’s why Toddler A loves his star projector so much. You can be sure it was on all day yesterday, Twinkle Twinkling, with Maliyah shining down from the ceiling of our living room.
24 weeks pregnant with my girl, one of the last photos I took with her (trying on a dress for a wedding).
I have been struggling to post here on my blog because recently I’ve been feeling like there is nothing to say. My life is both very full and busy, and very boring and repetitive. But then I remembered that the word blog literally comes from a portmanteau of “web” and “log,” and I figured I could give you all a window into the log of my daily life.
Here are a few of my favorite activities these days.
Reading. I love reading. The books I used to read were hundreds of pages long, had digital or paper pages, and contained 99.9% words. The books I’m reading these days are 8-16 pages long, they are made of cardboard or indestructible and waterproof paper-ish material, and they contain 99.9% pictures, with 1-10 words per page. The most important difference is that in my previous life, it was a rare occasion for me to read a book twice in my life. These days, it’s a rare occasion for me to read a book less than five times in an hour. I know so many books by heart that sometimes Elmo’s Lucky Day shows up in my dreams. “Why is Elmo wearing green from head to toe? Elmo is celebrating St. Patrick’s Day!” And yes, I know it’s barely February. Toddler A has been very into St. Patrick’s Day since June. Thanks, Buy Nothing for bringing this literary masterpiece into our lives. I would say a pretty big percentage of my day is taken up by reading. Sometimes, I actually get to the end of the book, which is immediately followed by the baby sign for “AGAIN,” but about 50% of the time I get through 2-3 random pages Toddler A picks, and then he brings over a new book. Good thing I already know the endings!
When I am not reading, I am cooking. Ms. Jen got Toddler A a play kitchen for Christmas, and WOW he really loves it. He spends many, many minutes a day pouring things, stirring things, taking the tops on and off the pots, and of course bringing me his famous recipes to try. The kitchen came with pretend food, but the little man knows what’s up. He needs REAL food for his kitchen. He has become a master manipulator, convincing me he is starving for cheese or crackers, or banana, just to take one bite then run it over to his kitchen to cook up some delicacies. Every evening when I clean up, I have to check all of the pots and pans and cabinets in the play kitchen because without fail, I find real food in there. If he doesn’t become the next Carmy and open his own Michelin restaurant, I’d be surprised.
The issue with New York apartments is, even if they are big, they are small. And with an active kid like Toddler A, he needs room to roam. First, it was the hallway. I spent many many hours in the hallway in December. Especially hiding behind corners where he would run at full speed to find me. Then, we started taking his walker into the hallway so he could scare the dogs in all of the apartments with loud renditions of Old McDonald as he ran past their doors. Then, one day Ms. Jen let him bring his walker to the park, and the rest is history. He discovered that it was possible to bring his toys into the elevator, and now we never leave home without one. I have discovered mini spatulas, balls, drumsticks, and a baby doll thermometer in my pocket in the last month, because he insisted on bringing them downstairs or upstairs, then lost interest 3 minutes later.
Don’t interrupt the man in his kitchen.Spotted: real apples and Bamba in the play kitchen. Walker in the hallway forever and for always scaring the neighbors’ dogs.
You may ask why he lost interest. Well, that answer is easy: because who wants the hallway or toys when you have the LOBBY. It is an amusement park. At least, it is to him. It has everything he could possibly want. Stairs to climb up and down 90-100 times in a row, couches to climb on (and slide off) 200-300 times in a row, a chandelier and art and a fountain to point at, and of course, the doormen. I have coined him the mascot of the building because we spend so much time running around the lobby. Everyone knows him, and each doorman has their own nickname for him, or special thing they do together. Do I wish he hung out with children his own age? Sure. But I also feel so lucky that everyone here is so kind to him. In my daily log, I’d make a conservative estimate that we end up in the lobby 6-8 times/day.
Of course, he eventually gets exhausted from all of the stair and couch-climbing, so we continue on our daily excursions. First: the mailboxes. Not only are they shiny, but he gets to sit up-up-up-up on the counter, which is very exciting. Also, KEYS. You know, the things you use every day of your life to enter your house, car, etc? Those boring things you need to remember not to forget? Those things are VERY exciting to a toddler. Holding them, shaking them, eating them (yuck), and of course, turning them in a lock. My main issue with bestowing my keys to the tiny terror at the mailbox is that eventually, he loses interest and then wants to run around and climb couches and stairs again, while holding them, which is dangerous. But children have no sense of danger, so, a tantrum generally ensues as I pry them from his (mysteriously) strong grip.
He is extremely strong. I would say, “I wonder how he got that way,” but I know the answer. He weight trains. Yes, you read that right, the boy “lifts things up and puts them down,” like the Planet Fitness commercial. A good percentage of our daily routine is carrying things. He has picked up and moved all of the items in the playroom. He picks up packages he finds in the lobby. And of course, his favorite: yellow caution signs. If the floor is wet or slippery from rain or snow, don’t worry, Toddler A will be moving the signs around carrying them to all corners of the lobby making sure everyone knows. The “CAUTION” on the signs is not heeded by this toddler. He will not be deterred by mere signage.
After our daily dose of weightlifting, we hit up our next favorite spot: the laundry room. We have a washing machine in our apartment, but that one is behind a child-locked door. When he discovered that there were machines (plural) accessible to his tiny hands at all hours of the day, he was elated. When I discovered that the buttons make noise and light up but don’t actually turn the machines on because you need to pay, I was elated. It is the best of both worlds. He gets the excitement of buttons, doors, lights and sounds, and I don’t have to pay for the electricity, or worry he will accidentally waterboard himself. Recently, I showed him how I can take him for a ride in the rolling laundry baskets. Needless to say, I’m the coolest mom around. I told you my days were full and busy!
PICK THINGS UP. PUT THEM DOWN.That wooden thing is heavier than it looks!Another favorite thing to move around the lobby.Mailbox heaven!Very into stairs these days.VERY.
Ms. Jen always says Toddler A loves “novelty,” so when he discovers something new, he becomes obsessed, and that new activity becomes a huge part of our day. Recently, it was the luggage carts. As I noted before, we spend a great deal of time in the lobby, but he only recently discovered he could climb on and off rolling things. Personally, this activity is one of my favorites because he enjoys giving me kisses through the bars. Yes, it’s reminiscent of a jail cell, but I love the kisses anyway. I don’t love that they keep the carts by the front door of the building, which is constantly opening to the arctic circle temperatures we have been living in recently, but it’s a small price to pay for at least 7 minutes of fun.
When Toddler A is (we are) completely and totally exhausted from our lobby follies, we head back to the apartment for snacks, 30% of which end up in his mouth, and 70% in his play kitchen. Then, we turn on Ms. Rachel, or as we have to say here, “M-S R-A-C-H-E-L” because he understands us now. Toddler A used to love Gracie from Gracie’s Corner, and we called her “his girlfriend,” but this love turned into an unhealthy obsession. According to google, it qualified as an “obsessive love disorder” or “limerence.” When I realized that turning off Gracie led to a daily meltdown, we switched programming.
Anyway, I can usually get about 8 minutes of uninterrupted time when Ms. Rachel is on, so I can make dinner or sit down. Did you notice I filled 3 pages with my daily activities, and I never left the building? #winterlife. Despite never going outdoors, I somehow every day end up with 10,000+ steps and 11 out of 11 hours moving. As I said, I have been busy. And, not at all.
Laundry shenanigans.When he realized he could RIDE in the carts, the rest was history.Buttons, lights, doors… what more could you want?A and one of his bff doormen, taking him on a luggage cart ride.
I was preparing for yet another trip recently, packing approximately 20 suitcases for a 2-night trip, when a friend asked me if it gets easier each time.
Short answer: no.
The main problem is, even if we travel twice a month, A changes every time, so the packing needs and traveling needs change as well. Not to mention, he used to barely crawl, and now he basically runs.
It is hard to explain why traveling with a baby/toddler is difficult, but I’m going to attempt to break it down here.
PACKING:
The obstacles begin before you leave the house, and to be honest, this might be the most complicated piece. I’ve talked a little about the difficulty of packing before, but this part certainly doesn’t seem to get easier. I have a permanent packing list on my phone in Microsoft To Do, just the same way I do for myself. However, since his needs are constantly changing, so is the packing list.
Example: We used to only need bottles (and a bottle brush and bottle soap), now we need a bottle and sippy cup.
We used to need the pack and play, now we also need a crib sheet because maybe (HOPEFULLY) the hotel will have a full-size crib so Chris and I can actually get some sleep. We used to need a glass container to make formula, now we need to figure out how to transport milk, or we need to plan ahead to buy milk wherever we are going.
There’s the sleep sack, the sound machine, the monitor, the monitor charger, the wipes, the aquafor, the DIAPERS. Basically, he needs his own 25-pound trunk of stuff, and he’s just over 25 pounds himself.
Also, I glazed over the fact that I now work from two separate packing lists. So, I am working off of his and mine, flipping back and forth. And it’s not like he can just use my stuff if I forget… he has his own SPECIAL toothpaste. And don’t get me started on his hair care routine.
For me, if I forget my pajamas, it doesn’t really matter because I can sleep in workout clothes, or frankly, in nothing at all. For A if I forget his particular zippie pajamas or his sleep sack, he just won’t sleep. Which means none of us sleep. Every item is gravely important.
WAITING/TRAVEL:
The travel itself is usually a nightmare, even in the best-case scenario. There’s the uber to the train/airport/venue, which usually includes a meltdown because we aren’t in cars that often. I have mostly learned how to avoid this by giving him an endless stream of his favorite snacks as a distraction, but it is still hit or miss.
Then there’s the waiting. For the train. For the security line. For the plane. To take off. These days, there are usually delays. Waiting is not easy for adults, and it certainly isn’t easy for babies. No matter how many toys, snacks, spinners, sticky men, painter’s tape or any other number of tricks I tried to learn from TikTok, it’s still hard.
On our most recent trip to Atlanta, it took two hours from returning the rental car to the multiple airtrains to security etc. until we were at the gate, and then another FOUR HOURS after we boarded until we took off. A is actually very good on planes, since they have all of his favorite things: people, lights, screens, and of course pockets on the back of seats where he can pull out papers and throw them on the floor. He did relatively well during the 4-hour delay, and made friends with everyone in the surrounding rows. But gone are the days of just watching a movie or closing my eyes for a nap.
After 2 hours of transport and 4 hours of ground delays, he passed out on me when we took off.His usual position: standing while throwing pamphlets on the floor.
BEING IN A DIFFERENT PLACE:
This seems easy, right? 1-year olds don’t do much, why is it any different to “not do much” somewhere else? WRONG. In hotels, there are millions of death traps including uncovered outlets, corners of tables and counters that are exactly baby-head-height, there are bathrooms with no actual closing doors, slippery bathroom floors with showers that flood the floor and make it even more slippery, cords for many floor lamps, etc. You cannot leave a 1-year-old to their own devices in a hotel room, so you need to constantly be 3 steps behind them, and even that is sometimes too far.
I have found a short-term solution for this: the lobby.
Lobby funMore lobby fun, featuring a table that is the perfect height to knock out his few teeth.More running in another lobby.
Recently when we were at a wedding in New Jersey, I took A to the lobby every day for at least an hour. He ran around, greeting and smiling at everyone, he LOVED the people coming and going, he also loved the open space, the couches, and the lights and chandeliers. He loved the automatic doors more than anything, but again that required a bit of supervision so he didn’t walk right out. Shoutout to the staff at the Hyatt Regency in Morristown, who were all so sweet and lovely to him, smiling, waving, blowing kisses, and even giving him a mini teddy bear. Extra perk of spending hours in the lobby: all of the running helps tire the kids out. Which brings me to the next travel nightmare:
NAPPING
I don’t even know what to say here. Let’s just leave it at… naps while traveling are a challenge. The people whose kids “nap anywhere” or “just put them in the stroller for a nap”… they’re lying to you. Or they don’t have a SUPER curious kid like mine who keeps his eyes open as long as there is literally anything to look at.
The only good part is that hotels tend to have pretty good blackout shades. But with everything else completely different than home? Sleep is hard to come by. We sometimes will resort to having him sleep on the bed so long as one of us is next to him to make sure he doesn’t roll off. We have also Macgyvered all sorts of strange arrangements. In NJ, he wouldn’t sleep in the crib but he would sleep NEXT to it, on the couch, so we pulled the crib up to the couch as the third wall and then used a cushion near his feet to enclose the full rectangle. I’d include a photo, but as aforementioned, it was completely 100% pitch black in there. It worked though! He slept for a full 90 minutes while I crept around in the dark and slithered into the bathroom to do my makeup and hair for the wedding.
Mid-nap, in the dark, cuddled up the only way he’d sleep.Not actually a nap, just one of many attempts of his to roll off the bed in excitement.
THE MEMS
You might say, “wow Emily that sounds horrific, why would you ever go anywhere ever?” To which I would say, “you’re right, I don’t know why.” Actually, I do know why. As my Gen Z sister-in-law would say, we do it for the mems. Not his mems, of course, he doesn’t mem anything.
The pictures are great. The family we get to see loves to see him, and of course the main thing: if I didn’t leave the house WITH him, I just plain wouldn’t leave the house at all.
So, does it get better/easier? Moms, let me know in the comments.
Exploring new places is his favorite! Extra fun when there’s a window in the room that’s just his height.
I listen to a few podcasts and on one of them, the host occasionally does a “chaotic life update” when a lot has happened and she wants to catch everyone up.
Since I’ve only posted on the blog a few times this year, and the year is more than half over, I think we are overdue for some updates. Presented here in no particular order because chaos is the new name of the game.
We went on our first international trip as a family!
…on 3 days’ notice. Honestly, I think I deserve a medal like I won the Olympics because WHAT?! I still can’t believe I succeeded at this and did not forget anything. I placed 14 Amazon orders between Monday when we booked the flights, and Thursday when we left. That is not an exaggeration, that is a fact.
We also had to wait in a 2-hour line with an 11-month-old when we got to the airport because my ticket was booked under my maiden name, but my passport has my married name. By the time we boarded the plane, I was already out of all of my tricks I got on TikTok for entertaining a small child while traveling.
I won’t go into the full details of the flight, but let’s just say it was a CHALLENGE. The flight attendants were on their worst behavior, and they were scolding passengers the whole time and even handing out yellow tickets to parents of misbehaving kids. They had security meet some of the parents at the gate in Mexico! Thankfully I was not the recipient of a yellow ticket, despite A’s choice timing of a major poo blowout that we had to change on the seat next to us, after being instructed absolutely no passengers were allowed in the aisle. Sigh.
Anyway, the trip was so fun, all of Chris’s siblings were there, A got to swim in a big pool and the ocean for the very first time, and he absolutely adored the never-ending food. Especially the French fries. He’s clearly his mother’s son.
Related… we got him his first passport!
…that arrived with his incorrect birth date. MAJOR eye roll. Why do they require the original copy of a birth certificate if they are not cross checking it?? If there’s something I just love doing, it’s paperwork. Can you sense the sarcasm? Anyway, after more paperwork and an additional trip to the post office, we eventually got it corrected.
I’ve officially been an employee at my organization for 11 years *mind blown emoji*
This is pretty much exactly what I wouldrecommend people not do if they want to advance their careers. That said, I have had three different roles at this organization, AND I had my student loans forgiven last summer! I was in the thick of postpartum so I never wrote a blog about it, but it happened! I am officially debt-free. I don’t need to think about the horrible mistake I made going to law school, and thankfully I didn’t have a heart attack taking the Bar Exam.
I’ve been reflecting a lot on how much has changed since I started this job. It’s hard to look at 11 years and NOT think about what has transpired since I began.
I have gone from single to dating. Dating to engaged. Resident of NYC. COVID. 6-month temporary resident of Texas. Brown hair to purple hair to blonde hair to brown hair. Engaged to married. Pregnant. Mother of a dead child. Pregnant. Mother of an alive child (and still a dead one). It’s been a lot. And I’m still working with the same rabbis! And after all of these years, I’m still completely nonreligious.
Speaking of alive children…
Baby A turned 1!!
I guess he has to be Toddler A now, technically. How did that happen?? Time flies when you are in a hormone and sleep-deprived haze.
We had a huge party for him at a brewery, and no matter the judgement I received for the choice of venue, it was definitely the right decision! A had a blast crawling and pulling himself around the floor, and he definitely loved the BYO food policy because he was able to eat cheese to his heart’s content.
The theme was PIZZA and I made him a bespoke pizza crown, as well as matching shirts for all of us. Who knew that having a kid would mean that I could flex my DIY Halloween costume muscles multiple times/year now!? Speaking of… I better start thinking about Halloween.
I’ve gone to see 4 Broadway Shows this year!
Actually, I’ve seen 4 on Broadway and 1 off! I started the year strong with Oh Mary AND Suffs in January, and then I saw Buena Vista Social Club for my birthday with Chris, and I saw The Great Gatsby last week. Also, I saw the Friends Parody Musical, which was off Broadway and hysterical. I have been trying to balance my life more, carving out time for myself. Also, now that A barely wakes up at night, I feel more comfortable coming home after 9 pm because there’s a good possibility I will still get sleep. Chris and I have worked out a schedule that seems to be good for both of us, but hopefully soon we will also leave the house together more often. Fingers crossed. Speaking of carving out time for myself…
Playbill pics are mandatoryBirthday date night!Can you tell this was a January show not the one I went to in July?
I am trying to get back into a gym routine.
I am actually a member of three gyms now, and I am proud that last month I had two personal milestones: swimming a mile for the first time since BEFORE Covid and running the entire 28 minute block in Orangetheory without any breaks to walk. I am trying to get back to feeling as strong as I did before I had A. After Maliyah, I threw myself into the gym and felt stronger than ever (physically). Now that I am strong mentally, I’m working on the physical part.
I weaned off of Zoloft. And therapy.
I both started and stopped Zoloft in the past year. I can’t say for sure if it helped, but I always said that I would start it, knowing that if I wanted to get off, I would just get off, and that’s what I did. Am I still anxious? Yes. Especially around big events like leading up to A’s birthday, but I like to think I can still function well through the anxiety and that is the main goal.
As for therapy, weaning off wasn’t difficult, but I think that’s because I did not have a good match for a therapist. I found myself wishing every week that I could use that hour for the gym instead, and so I decided to do just that. I’m not saying that working out is a substitute for therapy, but if you only have time for one, and the therapist isn’t the right fit, then you have to choose.
I am really back on the braiding wagon!
I have eight (8!!!) clients this month for festivals. Yikes! I also have five clients who have already signed up for hair for the NYC Marathon.
Related, I built a scheduler into my website for hair appointments for the marathon. I was so proud of myself for figuring it all out: the set up, the logos, the photo uploads, the calendar syncing, the bank account linking… everything! It looks great and I am proud of it! I am really hoping it cuts down on the back-and-forth admin time. Now with a small child, I have even less time to email to set up times and deposits, so I think this streamlined system will help a lot!
There are many things I could keep updating on, but I hope to be back to long form blogs soon so I can deep dive. Do you have any questions for me? Mom life, parenting after loss, NYC living, working mom balance, hair, professional, let me know in the comments 😊
Was he crying or screaming in excitement? No one knows.Birthday boy in his special crown.Hair trial for Burning Man. She’s coming back in a few weeks!
That’s what I keep thinking to myself. 2 years old. A whole toddler. Terrible Twos. I could have a 2 year old and an almost 11 month old. In fact, if I got pregnant today I’d eventually have an almost 2 year old and an almost 11 month old (and a dead baby).
Today is June 12th, which was Maliyah’s due date. Every night now, I put A to sleep, and I think about her. For the first few months of his life, I didn’t think about her often because I was too tired, and honestly the only thoughts I had were about when the next time was that I was going to sleep. But as I have restful nights of sleep now, and as A becomes his own person, a full-fledged human with wants and likes and dislikes and facial expressions, I keep thinking about what his sister would be like, and whether they would be similar.
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may remember the story of how we broke the news of my first pregnancy to my parents. Ironically, for my mom’s first pregnancy (with my older sister), she was also due June 12. This felt like kismet when I got my due date. When my mom was very pregnant, she had a shirt that said, “June 12, plus or minus.” I didn’t even know about the shirt when I found out I was pregnant, but my sister had heard about it many times. Since my sister was the first person I told about Maliyah, she helped me brainstorm the announcement to my parents and I ordered iron-on letters. I actually posted on Buy Nothing to get a different color for the iron-on numbers. When I sat down to write this blog, I found my post, November 22, 2022, just in time for our Thanksgiving announcement.
We all know how that story ended: with an announcement that included happy tears at the time, but sad tears in hindsight. Of course, I still had the shirt. When you have a kid who dies, you end up with a lot of things, some of which you can’t get out of your house fast enough, and some of which you never can stomach getting rid of. That shirt I not only couldn’t get rid of, I couldn’t even take it out of my closet. It felt like it needed to be with the rest of my clothes so I could look at it all the time.
This year on June 12, I put A in the shirt, which was a hilarious exercise because he never stands still and was crawling all over the apartment in this large “dress.” I tried to pose him with the shirt and was semi successful, but then I realized I wanted to put him in the one hand-me-down outfit that I have. I only purchased one outfit for Maliyah – it was a onesie that I bought when I was in Australia one week after I found out I was pregnant. I put him in the Vegemite onesie and took another photo.
It’s so strange to have a baby here and a baby not here. I remember the first year that Maliyah’s due date came and went I was absolutely inconsolable. it felt worse than when I was in the hospital losing her. In the hospital, I was in shock and it felt fake. But three months later, the grief had fully set in. On June 12, it felt like it was the last possible day that I would have a living baby in my arms, and I knew when that day passed, it was over. Of course, I knew that wasn’t rational because she was already gone but that day specifically was one of the hardest in my “grief journey.”
Last year on this date, I was 32 weeks pregnant, sad but also hopeful. Also, extremely superstitious. I didn’t want to be too hopeful, but it felt so different than the year before, when I was in deep sadness, and in purgatory, i.e. a doctor-ordered waiting period before attempting another pregnancy.
This year, again it’s different.
Every time I go anywhere with A, people call him a girl. I don’t necessarily dress him in BOY clothes, but the last time this happened, he was in a onesie with dinosaurs. It could go either way, boy or girl, he’s a baby. There isn’t much of a difference. But every time it happens, it feels like a strange sign from Maliyah. Yes, it’s more likely that people misgender (mis-sex?) him because of his long, curly eyelashes and because all babies look the same (and he’s just a beautiful kid), but sometimes I think it’s a little nod. It’s as if Maliyah’s saying, A’s with you, but I’m still here too, in spirit.
On this June 12, plus or minus, we especially are thinking of you, Maliyah, my first born.
Hello, it is Wednesday after a 3-day weekend and I am still not recovered. Every time our nanny has a day off, I just think… we do not pay her enough.
As I said in the title of this post, weekends with living kids are an absolute double bind. According to ChatGPT, a double bind is “a communication dilemma where an individual receives two or more conflicting messages, making it impossible to satisfy both demands at once. No matter how the person responds, they are punished, creating a no-win situation that often leads to anxiety and emotional distress.”
In this case, the “communication,” is communication from myself, to myself. AKA my thoughts.
Thought #1: 3 days is a VERY long time to spend ALONE with a child who doesn’t really play alone, doesn’t talk, doesn’t eat without help, and yet, wants to move around constantly and climb on you, and cover you in spit, barf, poop, bite marks and scratches.
Thought #2: Spending time with others means leaving the house and making plans. Plans are exhausting. Pre-planning the plans is even more exhausting. Wrangling an EXTREMELY active child in an environment I am not familiar with, and an environment that is likely not childproofed is even more exhausting.
Both of these situations definitely lead to anxiety and emotional distress.
Last weekend, I chose to carry out thought #2 and we had plans. 3 days, 3 different plans.
Day 1
Day 1 was hanging out with friends in a park. Easy, right? Wrong.
My pre-plan planning thoughts: When should we go to the park? Before the first nap at an ungodly hour in the morning? Or after the first nap, which is at an unpredictable time. Then I will need to text and keep our friends abreast of our timing, when I can never find my phone. And then, when he wakes up do I feed him before we leave? He will probably eat the pizza with us at the park, but I also don’t want to deal with a melt down on the way if he’s hungry. Also, the park is far. It requires an Uber. An Uber means a car seat. He hatesss being strapped in a car seat. I will need toys as a distraction. And a distance from home means a diaper bag. Who is going to pack the diaper bag? Me, of course. I could bring 0 snacks because we just fed him lunch AND there is going to be pizza there, but what if he is hungry? I will pack snacks. But what if he doesn’t like THOSE snacks? I will bring alternatives. If he’s going to eat, we DEFINITELY need wet wipes. And it’s hot, I should bring him water. He doesn’t usually like formula unless he’s going to nap, but what if he will nap in the car on the way home? Ok, I’ll bring formula. It’s cloudy but what if it gets sunny? I’ll bring a hat and sunscreen. And what about diapers? I need diapers and diaper paraphernalia for just-in-case blowouts and an outfit change.
All of that was before we even left for the plans.
Then we got to the plans, and I had to deal with pizza dropping on the ground and his obsession with the birds who tried to get the pizza off the ground, not to mention he himself, who was trying to pick up and then eat the pizza on the ground, which was, of course, far more appetizing than the pizza on the table. Also, the ant hills on the grass that I tried to steer his never-ending-crawling away from.
Needless to say, by the time we got home, I was 99% sure I was more tired than him. And it was only Day 1.
Before and After Pizza/Pigeon chasing
Day 2
Day 2 we had a wedding/50-year vow renewal for very close family friends. It was in Manhattan. That’s where we live! Easy, right? Wrong.
The wedding was at 11 am, also known as, right in the middle of nap #1. This meant no nap for A. This meant parental Olympics in the form of mama-distraction so he didn’t remember he was tired for hours. But first, mama needed to look presentable for a wedding where she would definitely see a colleague because it was at a synagogue. So, I put A in baby jail while I blow dried my hair and did my makeup, and he whined and cried at me and reached his arm out to me like he was indeed on Rikers Island, not 5 feet away from me, in a play pen full of toys.
After I got myself ready, I had to get him ready. Have you ever tried to fasten a shirt with 7 buttons on a tiger? Because that’s what it’s like putting a wedding outfit on a 10-month-old. I did one button then he somehow twisted himself onto the floor and crawled 3 feet away until I captured him in a body lock to do the next one while he screamed. Repeat 6 more times. And don’t get me started on the socks and shoes. Tying shoelaces on a child who doesn’t understand their foot movement control, or the fact that direct contact with their mother’s nose is not ideal, is a form of torture.
Once we arrived at the venue, as I mentioned, the boy could not sit still. For one full hour I tried everything I could to get him to not yell during the service. I sat down next to him, I had him sit on my lap. I gave him toys. I gave him a bottle. I stood up and held him. I brought him to the back of the sanctuary and let him crawl around while I chased him. I bounced him on my hip. I “shhhh”ed him (even though I don’t think he knows what that means). It was a Herculean feat, but he didn’t scream a single time and eventually, the service was over (it was beautiful from what I could concentrate on). Then came the brunch. Let’s just say… a lot of time was spent on the floor.
Baby Jail with that tiny hand reaching out to me from his cellMe trying not to drop my 10-month-old Olympic gymnastAnother candid of me trying to make him chill
Day 3
Day 3 we technically only had one plan in the afternoon, and it was at my sister’s house. Very chill, very low key. Easy, right? Wrong.
Baby A decided to wake up at 6:45 am, so we had a longgg morning to fill. Since it was Fleet Week in NYC, I had a dream to find a group of sailors and take a photo of baby A with them. Sure, my brother is in the Navy and I could have just taken him to my brother’s work but this seemed much more NYC, much more Sex And the City. Except, like, everything that made Sex and the City, Sex and the City.
The place I knew sailors would congregate was the west side along the Hudson where all of the ships docked. We took the stroller down and sure enough, sailors were everywhere! We stared at the Intrepid for a while, lots of strangers talked to us, and then we came across a big group of sailors. I planned to just wheel baby A into the middle and take a candid, but the top-ranking guy forced them all to look at the camera. What an adventure! And we were home by 8:30. In the morning.
After morning nap, we had to get ready for the Memorial Day BBQ at my sister’s. This, of course, required all of the thought from the previous days. Diaper bag packing, snack necessity, outfit wrangling, etc. But this time, I also had to bring the small stroller that has no storage, because we were going to need to go up 10 stairs and fit in a small apartment.
We were on our way, walking, when it was clearly too warm for him. I decided to change plans and go on a bus, although I had never been on a bus with him in the stroller. Thank god for nice old ladies who helped me maneuver the handicapped seats. We finally arrived, maneuvered up the stairs, and the next set of obstacles presented themselves.
The apartment had toys, but of course he is too small to do anything but put them in his mouth, which he did thoroughly enjoy. He also crawled all over the floor where everyone was wearing their NYC shoes, and he licked the floor over and over again. Then he crawled everywhere, to the glass bowls, the very not-child-proofed kitchen area, and I was always 1 step behind him. There was another mom there with a baby 6 weeks younger, and he just sat in the carrier on her the entire time. Didn’t make a sound, didn’t fuss, perfectly content. Not my child! He was on the go, making friends with everyone, eating everything, cucumbers, hummus, brownies, you name it.
Almost everyone at the BBQ had kids, and I asked a fellow mom about it. She said, “who else is stuck in NYC on Memorial Day Weekend with no plans? The ones who it isn’t worth it to make plans and travel, the ones with kids.” True, but also, plans are TIRING!!! Baby A made it 10 blocks home until the meltdown began, and he cried the next 15 blocks straight until we made it home for a nap.
The next morning when our nanny came, she asked how our weekend was. I said, “I’m very happy to see you.”
This weekend, we have 0 plans and I could not be more excited about it.
I’m the Captain Now.CasualBBQ aka another opportunity to crawl under a different tableCaptured him for a brief photo moment
I have learned a lot of things in the 10 months since A was born. Some things I have learned from experience, some from trial and error, and a good majority from Google and ChatGPT. I’ve learned practical skills, like how to dodge active parabolas of pee from an open diaper, and how long a bottle of formula can stay out at room temperature. I have also learned more abstract things, like patience, and SPEED.
I can say with confidence I have never moved as slow, or as fast, as I have in the last 10 months.
Let me tell you a story that inspired this post. About a month ago, I was on a glorious solo adventure to my favorite happy place, Trader Joe’s. I was at the checkout, chit-chatting away with the cashier, as one does at TJ’s, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw my empty basket falling off the side tray. Immediately without breaking conversation, I grabbed the basket to keep it from falling, but I was met with resistance. Turns out, there was a person attached to the basket, another Trader Joe’s employee who was collecting empty baskets. I reacted so quickly with my new cat-like reflexes, that it didn’t even occur to me that perhaps the basket was being intentionally moved. I started laughing and said to my new BFF, the cashier, “that’s how you know I have a mobile infant at home.”
I am QUICK now. Is A falling off the bed? Not on my watch. Is he trying to walk when he can’t quite yet and about to fall on the kitchen tiles? Not if I’m there. Is he trying to stuff my entire cell phone in his mouth as a teething toy? Ok, sometimes I am not quick enough with that one. My phone is covered in saliva about 20% of any given day.
I have become very fast, and I see EVERYTHING.
Sometimes, that speed comes at a cost. Example: last week, we were 10 minutes from bedtime, and I was trying to do all of the things that make noise, so I didn’t have to do them while he was sleeping. One of those quick-before-bed tasks is emptying the dishwasher because all of our things are glass and create loud noises when stacked in the cabinet. I am VERY fast at emptying the dishwasher. Too fast. This particular time, I broke a ceramic bowl. I have broken 5 or 6 things since A was born. Oops.
Other examples of speed? Preparing food in under a minute between when A is strapped in the high chair, and when he will unquestionably have a melt down because he doesn’t have food in his mouth within 60 seconds. Also an example of my speediness: folding laundry, making formula, washing all bottles, showering, putting the toys away, and watching an episode of The Pitt during one afternoon nap.
As I mentioned before, though, I have also learned to be veryyyy slow. I used to bring my phone when I would put A down to sleep. This was because I was breastfeeding and bored, but also because A didn’t know anything about phones. Now, phones are his favorite thing in the world (remember the saliva), so I spend a majority of my days hiding my phone from him and often from myself, where I can’t find it for hours. Anyway, my point is, I can no longer bring my phone when I’m putting him to sleep. That means every night, and twice a day for naps, I have at least 20 minutes of feeding a bottle while I stare at the wall, or close my eyes and just breathe. I don’t think I’ve done that in my entire life. I am a veryyyy on-the-go type of gal. I am NOT the breathe and stare at the wall type of gal. Well, I guess I am now.
I have also learned to sit and watch A while he covers his entire body, hair to toes, in food. I calmly pick up his spoon from the floor every time he drops or throws it and give it back to him. This goes on for about 30 minutes, 3 times a day. Every day. I honestly don’t know how I do it. I believe this is a superhuman power, worthy of commendation. I am thinking I should put it on my resume, although I may need to wordsmith it with a punchy action verb. I’m thinking, “Persevere and maintain serenity while child smears food on his person and the entire room 90 minutes daily.”
I am also now great at watching him watch things. Last weekend, I watched him watch the dryer for 10 full minutes. He was flapping his arms and squealing in excitement. I was sitting 5 feet away, phone hidden somewhere, watching him watch. One of our favorite evening activities is going to Lincoln Center and watching the fountain. Well, he watches the fountain. For many, many minutes. I mostly people-watch and judge the fashion of the opera-goers. Every night, and sometimes every morning, same walk, same fountain, same staring. When it’s raining and we can’t get to the fountain, we just watch the water feature in the lobby of our apartment building. For many, many minutes. Very slow. And I am thankful for every minute he is happy and squealing.
Box flaps = best toy everAlso a best toy… my faceTHE ENTHRALLING WASHERFountain BabyFountain Baby (and a wave from Maliyah)
I won’t lie and say I never lose my patience. Sometimes I do. In fact, earlier this week after vodka sauce and avocado was all over the floor and I had picked up his spoon 13 times and given it back to him (without rinsing, who the hell got time for that?), I had to close my eyes and take 4 deep breaths. Every phase has difficulties, and my current absolute struggle is mealtime cleanups. But, eventually it gets done, and then we are back at the dryer or back at the box my espresso machine came in, flapping the box flaps up and down for 10 minutes.
I am sure someday I will remember these days fondly in all of their difficulties and slowness. I’ll wish that he spent more time crawling into my lap and covering my face with “kisses” aka saliva. For now, we just discovered swings last weekend, so that has been added to our repetitive repertoire. If you have other great ways to entertain an extremely active 10 month old, send them my way.
Last week when I decided to write about my New England Road Trip, I looked back to see when I had last posted. Imagine my surprise when I realized I had written a blog in late September, but never posted it.
Actually, I was not surprised at all because I was functioning on about 4 total brain cells. Good news is, I still have the never-published content and before I start posting new alive-baby-parenting content (which I fully intend to do… I’m determined!), I figured I would publish my 7-month-old post. Next week, I’ll post more about my current thoughts – it will be fun to see how much has changed!
Whew! We are back on the blog. I will probably get 3 paragraphs written before I am once again needed as a milk maid, so this may be brief.
A is healthy and he is GROWING. And I do mean that in all caps. That boy eats and eats and eats, and he is packing on the pounds! He is almost 4 pounds heavier than he was when we left the hospital, so he has basically gained 70% of his weight in 8 weeks. Imagine if that happened to you? Yikes.
Being a new mom of a living baby is HARD.
There are a few things that no one really talks about, and since so many moms gatekeep this VERY important information, I am going to share it.
Breastfeeding is the devil, I don’t care what anyone says. I am 100% convinced that anyone who says it’s easy and they are “lucky” is lying. I don’t believe it is easy for anyone. There are far too many products on the market to ameliorate a myriad of issues related to it for it to be “easy” for anyone. I believe that people get used to it, but I don’t believe that it’s just fine.
Another fact that was gatekept: newborns are LOUD AF when they sleep. I don’t know who came up with the term, “sleeping like a baby,” but NOT MY BABY. I asked a mom friend (hi Randi!) why my child sounded like he was in horrific agonizing grunting pain every time he slept but appeared peaceful and she called them “gremlin noises,” which is exactly right. My son is a bridge troll. Supposedly it gets better with time. TBD. I’ll tell you this, it’s impossible for ME to sleep through, no matter how calm he looks. This brings me to my next point,
Being a new mom of a living baby is HARD. But being a loss mom of a living baby is harder. I know way too many ways for him to die.Every little noise sends me into complete panic. Yes, he LOOKS calm but IS HE DYING?! The answer in my brain is YES, NO QUESTION. You should see my 4 am Google searches. They almost all start with, “is something wrong if…” or “is it normal if…” or “is my 6 week old dying if…”
My husband and I have been experimenting with all different types of sleeping arrangements, different rooms, splitting time in the night, splitting rooms, switching sides of the bed, having family come to help, etc. We have been playing musical chairs with the couch, our bed and the guest bed. So far, nothing has really worked to reduce my anxiety besides just me removing myself from the rooms our baby is in. My husband’s been taking nights completely solo, even though he has been back at work for over a month. While I hate that he has to do that, I need to make sure I’m awake and alert during the day when I’m alone with A. It has definitely been a balancing act, and again, I’m so lucky to have a supportive partner.
I won’t even get into the “mom guilt” associated with not being able to sleep in the same room as my child, but that could be a whole other post and I’m already on borrowed time – valuable time that I could be sleeping!
Oh yes, another point I wanted to raise. I LOVE FOOD. But I had never been faced with the question, “if you had one hour and you could either eat or sleep, which would you do?” If you asked me 3 months ago, I would have said eat. Not anymore. Eating has been a huge challenge because my answer to that question is always “sleep,” and it wins every time. But I know I need to fuel my body and I’ve been asking some mom friends for their easiest, “eat this over your child’s head while feeding them” snacks because I have been struggling to figure it out. As an always-chubby-kid, never once in my life did I hear a doctor say they were “concerned about my rapid weight loss,” which is what my nephrologist said to me last week. HA! Someone please call my childhood pediatrician. Anyway, I’ve stocked up on protein bars and pretzels and cheese slices and trail mix, and other things I can easily munch on. Another reminder here not to comment on a woman’s body, because every time someone says I look “great for just having a baby,” it reminds me how I am struggling to find time to both care for my child and eat food.
For some reason I thought that babies would take a lot of naps, probably because the internet says so. What they didn’t say was, your baby will only take naps ON YOU, on your chest, with you 100% ramrod still and barely breathing. God forbid you have to get up to pee: cue meltdown.
OR, the other option, they’ll nap in a carrier, strapped to your front, while you are walking. God forbid you stop walking: cue meltdown.
Depending on his nap of choice, I either get <2000 steps for the day, or >16,000.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the cuddles, and he smells like a newborn, which is the best smell ever, (sometimes mixed with poo), and I feel so incredibly lucky to have him in my arms. I just thought I’d get more done. Alas, there is a season for everything, and this season is not the one for productivity!
I will be on the blog whenever I can manage, but for now, you can find me covered in bodily fluids (some mine, some his) and on the floor, saying things like, “What do you see? A wall? Cool!”
Photo for reference. Me, eating a taco bowl over my sleeping baby’s head. Very normal. Also, he was 15 weeks here, so you can see this trend didn’t stop.
Here we are, my very first Mother’s Day with a living baby. But… it’s not my first Mother’s Day.
In 2022, I was 1 week away from my wedding when Mother’s Day hit. It was the furthest thing from my mind. I called my mom, of course, but Mother’s Day wasn’t a big thing in our house growing up, so we didn’t have any huge tradition.
Later in 2022, I became pregnant with Maliyah, and in March 2023, I became not-pregnant. But, no living baby. All before Mother’s Day, 2023.
Was Mother’s Day 2023 my first Mother’s Day? Did I become a mom when I got pregnant? Did I become a mom when I went through labor and delivery? Or did I not become a mom because I never had a living baby in my arms? Mother’s Day 2023 was not only extremely depressing, but very confusing. I hid from the world. I remember I called my mom early in the morning to make sure I didn’t forget, and to get it out of the way so I could hide in my apartment all day. I was terrified to see intact families with alive children at a restaurant, or on the sidewalk, or in the card aisle of Duane Reade. Actually, that’s not true. I went to the movie theater and got a bucket of popcorn and THEN hid at home and ate it by myself in bed.
Then in 2024, I was around 29 weeks pregnant with A when Mother’s Day rolled around. Was 2024 my first Mother’s Day? I was visibly pregnant, but I still had no confidence that I’d be bringing home an alive baby. I received a lot of “Happy Mother’s Days.” It was extremely weird and depressing yet again, because no one recognized me the year prior. I felt just as much a mom in 2024 at Mother’s Day as I felt in 2023. In 2023 I had no living children and I had been 25 weeks pregnant earlier that year. In 2024, I had no living child and I was 29 weeks pregnant. What was the difference?
And now, it’s 2025. And again, I struggle to decide if it’s my first Mother’s Day. People seem to think it is. I have a living baby. (I am writing this 2 days in advance, but I hope he is still alive Sunday). I went through (another) labor and delivery in the past 12 months. I think now, to the whole population, there’s no question I am a mom. But the question remains, was I before? It’s confusing.
Here’s what I know: It’s hard being a dead baby’s mom. It’s hard being an alive baby’s mom. They are both exhausting. One because you’re busy doing nothing but crying all day long. The other, because you’re busy doing nothing but trying to prevent another person from crying all day long. But only the latter is recognized by Hallmark.
I am torn between which is “harder,” but I know I do a lot now for A every day. Early wake ups. Late wakeups. Clean ups. Wipe downs. Stroller walks. Carrier walks. Cleaning toys. Cleaning poop. Cleaning floors. Cleaning bottles. Rocking. Crawling. Mimicking Pterodactyl sounds. It’s a lot, and I appreciate being recognized for it. On Mother’s Day, yes, but also on other days. Chris got me flowers on Friday. They are beautiful. Part of me wants to go out to brunch at a restaurant with my alive baby, and just be a normal alive-baby-mom for normal Mother’s Day. I wanted that so badly for so many years. But part of me feels weird forgetting about those years like they didn’t happen. I’m also thinking of all of the other non-visible moms hiding in their homes from the Duane Reade card aisle. Part of me is still them.
When A was born, I received a gift of “My First” bibs, with all of the holidays including Mother’s Day. This whole week I have been looking forward to wearing matching outfits, me in a dress, and A in a romper, and putting him in his “My First Mother’s Day” bib for photos. Again, it’s definitely his first Mother’s Day, but is it mine?
Then Wednesday, I started thinking about what that same photo would look like with Maliyah in a matching dress, standing on her own, running around while I held Amari, who still can’t quite stand without support. How strange I could have two kids. How strange I DO have two kids, but only one who is here for photos. I’m waiting to feel like a normal mom. Some days, I feel like one, but on holidays like these, it’s hard not to feel different.
I’ll end by saying happy Mother’s Day to everyone who believes they are a mom, whether or not you are recognized by strangers, families, Hallmark or anyone else. I see you and I celebrate you and your strength.
Here are some things I love about being an alive-baby-mom:
Looking at him every day and realizing he’s alive.
Looking at him every day and wondering who he looks like. So far, neither of us, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d be mildly concerned.
Looking at him every day. (Sensing a trend?)
Taking a million photos and knowing my camera roll is full of cuteness.
Comparing him from weeks prior and watching him grow. He’s so alive!
The looks I get when I wear him in the carrier. Everyone on the sidewalk smiles or makes little pouty faces at me and says, “aww he’s brand new!”
Wondering what his personality will be like, and when he will mimic our facial expressions.
Matching outfits, or semi-matching. Many more to come, I’m sure.
His tiny little fists when he’s hungry. TBH that’s how I feel when I’m hungry, too.
Walking past playgrounds and thinking about days I’ll be there playing as opposed to how I used to walk by and wonder if I’d ever get to go there and play.
How he grabs on to anything and everything, especially Maliyah’s necklace or the collar of my shirt, less cute when it’s my hair.
The hilarious newborn-mom Instagram reels. Maybe they’re funnier at 4 am while I’m up feeding, but they’re pretty dang funny.
I’ve always been a night owl, but I can finally get to sleep before midnight! Even before 10 some nights.
Here are some of the less glorious parts of being an alive-baby-mom:
Sleep deprivation
Constant grimey body, covered in who knows what
Having your cleaner come over and realizing that you have used your shower once since the last time she cleaned it.
Extreme exhaustion
Every part of your body aching from holding, burping, holding, walking, holding, feeding, holding
I’m not even going to get into the boob problems. Save that for another time.
The fact that it takes hours to get anywhere, and sometimes you just don’t get anywhere all day
Watching Instagram stories of other people doing things out in the world and wondering if you’ll ever leave the house again
But, he’s alive. And the new adventures are just beginning. I cannot wait for him to start smiling at us, they say it will happen SOON. And then, I can’t wait for him to actually recognize/see me and smile when I get close to him. More exciting days are coming!
Matchy matchy! #StripeGang #EmojiBabyHe loves to grab my collar. Not great for the shirts, but great for my swooning heart.People always comment on how tiny he is on me on our daily walks on the water.