Wake, feed, change, sleep, electrolytes, snap peas, skincare
A smattering of postpartum thoughts and toolkit items.
We return home from the hospital with an entirely new human. In the time we’ve been gone — just three short days — I’ve transformed into a mother. I notice I’m not the only thing that’s changed: the pea shoots grew about half an inch in the front garden box. Seeing them reminds me who I am.
That person comes back to me, slowly, over our first few hours at home. I notice and remember how she prepared as much as she could for me. She bought cooling witch hazel pads and santal-scented shower gel; obsessively washed and lint-rolled every baby onesie, burp cloth and swaddle; made freezer meals and stocked a bedroom cart with nursing pads and nipple creams and diapers and wipes and hand sanitizer. She did everything she could to prepare me for what was to come, though she never could have known.
In college, I’d go to all three nights of the Banff Mountain Film Festival screenings by myself. I’d wear my flannel shirts and take home several bags of the Kicking Horse Coffee they gave away for free in the lobby, even though I never drank it.
At this year’s festival back in February, we screened a film about four French guys mountaineering in dangerous conditions in Alaska. I found myself wondering if childbirth would feel more difficult. Another film followed two men as they climbed a challenging route in Patagonia over the course of several days. I sat in the audience and wondered if I’d be in so much pain during labor that I’d wish I were on one of these superhuman excursions instead.
After having gone through it, I realize there’s simply no comparison. My body couldn’t have done those things. My arms would have failed me and I’d have fallen off the wall in Patagonia, or I wouldn’t have had the stamina to trudge through the Alaskan snow and make it to the nearest town before my supplies ran out. But I did survive giving birth — because every fiber of my physical body was working to get my son here, whether my conscious mind was helping or not. Because it was what my body was made to do. Because there was no other option.
I couldn’t have done what those outdoorsmen did, just as they couldn’t have done what I had to do.
To be a new mother is to be needed all the time. It’s exhausting, and I remind myself it’s beautiful, that it’ll be my life’s shortest and most precious season, that he’ll soon break away from the gravity of my body and start spinning in his own orbit. I know that, one day, I’ll forget the most difficult moments — the ones where we’re both crying at each other — and maybe even wish them back just to have the weight of his warm, trusting newborn body in my arms.
For now, I take the hours in stride. I try to plan one moment for myself each day: a quick trip to the coffee shop down the block, a walk around the neighborhood at dusk, a papaya yogurt bowl with peanut butter. My girlfriends visit and we all sample a sip of my breastmilk out of a single sake cup like some kind of ritual. Once each day, with the few precious minutes I can find, I step outside by myself and water the peas. Some days, I don’t feel like I have time for a shower or a nap, but it is non-negotiable that I water the peas.
Now officially inducted into The Parent Club of the Avenues, we pass the same dad while he’s on a walk with his kids each evening. Sometimes he’s got a newborn strapped to his chest and is wrangling a toddler, and sometimes he’s just with the toddler — a tiny guy with thick brown bangs who opens his hands as we pass, revealing a fistful of Catalpa tree seedpods he scavenged from the sidewalk. We’ve all started saying hello to each other, and every day, our smiles become more amused. Hey, you’re here again, too. Hey, we’re all gonna make it through this crazy time of our lives.
Postpartum toolkit
A few precious items that are helping me find the beauty in the merry-go-round that is new motherhood:
Vintage baby clothes. After thank you, okay put me onto the brand Petit Bateau, I found a 20-piece vintage onesie set on Depop for $40. By fault of projectile spit-up or a blowout, I sometimes change my son’s clothes a handful of times per day. Cycling through these perfect tiny onesies has been, so far, one of motherhood’s greatest joys.
Pocari Sweat electrolyte packets. I’m exclusively breastfeeding and thirsty all the time. Pocari Sweat has been my electrolyte of choice, and I’m drinking so much that I started having 1-liter dry mix packets delivered to my door. The beverage’s ions are designed to closely resemble the composition of human sweat (it almost tastes like it, in a good way). It also has 94% of my daily value of added sugar, but I don’t focus on that part.
Tulips on the table. Particularly red.
Crema al pistacchio on toast. Who needs Nutella! One bite of this breakfast treat and I’m back at Sant'Eustachio il Caffè. Now all I have to do is learn how to make the perfect brioche bun and Rome is suddenly very near.
Embryolisse Lait-Crème Concentré. I’ve been searching for years for an accessible moisturizer that isn’t too thick or thin and actually leaves my skin feeling quenched. Apparently, all I had to do was read any beauty article ever to be led to Embryolisse. It’s only $17. It smells like a bouquet of flowers. I’m not putting on a full face of makeup most days, but I can manage this short, grounding routine: Youth to the People cleanser, Embryolisse moisturizer, Charlotte Tillbury concealer, Glossier Cloud Paint blush. If I do this and put on my Dunton Ellerkamp earrings, I feel like some semblance of my former self.
Cozy Earth bamboo sheets. Worth the hype. If I’m going to get only a couple of hours of sleep per night, it might as well be in the softest sheets I’ve ever slept upon.
Easy, breezy, beautiful, Highway Noise Radio. Did you miss me?
❤️❤️❤️
Congratulations! So exciting your baby is here!!!