"when all your desires are distilled; you will cast just two votes: to love more, and be happy" -hafiz

Monthly Archives: November 2013


Today is Hafiz’s 2 week birthday!

We celebrated with a pediatrician’s appointment. WOOOHOOO. Husein couldn’t come because his coffee roaster was delivered and installed today, so Feez and I braved the rainy cold on our own this morning. Feez now weighs 8 lbs 3 oz, meaning he is gaining weight splendidly. This news makes the nipple pain worth it.

We even went to Target afterwards so I could buy the following important things: gel pad soothie things for my nipples (I now own every nipple-soothing product on the market, I think), Avent pacifiers (!!!), liquid Trivisol vitamins and coconut water as a treat for me. Hafiz was sleeping soundly when I arrived, so I bought a tall pumpkin spice latte – I’m a fan of that Target-Starbucks partnership by the way – and pushed him around while sipping it to make the whole experience more leisurely.

Best part of Target was this:

Friendly lady pushing old man in wheelchair past me: WHOA! THAT’S A TEENY BABY!

Me: Yep!

Friendly lady: How old is he?

Me: 2 weeks.


Me: Haha, yep, I’m okay actually.

FL: You should be wearing a girdle. Not that you need it because you fat – you are definitely thin, don’t get me wrong, you could be wearing a bikini right now – but a girdle just makes you feel like everything is together. Try it!

Me: Thanks for the tip.

FL: And what’s the little guy’s name?

Me: Hafiz.

FL: HAFIZ?! You go girl! That’s a STRONG name! I like that! Hafiz, Ha-feeez!!! Yeah!!

And now some pictures:


Hus made this vertical turtle onesie for him at the baby shower.


I LOVE THESE CHEEKS!!!!! I also love him when he’s sleeping.


Tummy time. He has a seriously strong neck.


Looking at himself on his Montessori floor bed.




Going by the timeline of the other pictures, this was taken at 41 weeks (the end of the 41st week – just noticed that TODAY is 42 weeks. Thank you baby for no longer being inside of me!) 

I also made this really super extremely cheesy video of all the belly pics together: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PdQq52Uov0

After being up for nearly 3 hrs straight this afternoon (not crying really – just being awake) Feez is finally asleep on my chest in the Moby wrap. During his being-awake-spree we did tummy time: 


I also took his one week pic (2 days late though, shhh) with Mr. Boodles. Oh yeah I named his dog Mr. Boodles to pay tribute to the Mr. Boodles of my childhood. I might actually re-do this picture in his diaper only when I change him later. And maybe I’ll put a piece of paper that says “one week.” Just noticed I didn’t crop my feet out of this. It was a first attempt, ok? 


A few things before I head out to Babies R Us. First outing with Feez, aside from trips to the doctor. Eek.

1. Losing 20 lbs in one week does in fact feel as amazing as it sounds.

2. BACK SLEEPING IS BACK and it feels so so good.

3. Nipple soft shells have saved my nipples. I highly recommend these if your nipples hurt from breastfeeding. Warning: will make it look like you have robot boobs. Don’t care. I’m wearing them in public.

4. Just remembered an important part of the birth story I need to add in. While I was holding Hafiz for the first time I told the midwife, “He smells amazing!! How can something smell so good that came out of my vagina? My vagina does NOT smell like this.” She laughed a lot.

5. These post-pregnancy hormones are no joke. I cry 30 minutes a day for absolutely no reason. Mostly I cry over my changing relationship with Pokey. I swear she looks at me differently now.

6. I have been taking my encapsulated placenta pills. Maybe if I didn’t I’d be crying even more? Ha ha, who knows what they are doing for me but physically I do feel almost completely back to normal. Maybe they’ve helped.

7. Lactation cookies have replaced actual meals since I rarely have time to prepare real food during the day.

8. My goal of the day today was to shower. Goal not accomplished. Must set less ambitious goals.

9. Really surreal to look at Hafiz’s 3D ultrasound pics now. They do actually look like him.

10. I wish Husein had boobs and could feed the kid.

11. HAFIZ NEEDS A PACIFIER. Trying to hold out until he is a month old since the lactation consultant said he should “waste his sucking energy at my breast” for now to keep up supply. He has a clear oral fixation. I was able to keep him quiet at the pediatrician for nearly an hour by putting my pinky in his mouth.

12. I miss yoga. Do I really need to wait until 6 weeks post-partum to do gentle yoga? I say no. However, will I be able to find the time in the day to do yoga is the better question.

Okay hopefully going to go nurse the kid before heading out on the adventure to Babies R Us. Here are some glamour shots in the meantime.


Oh wow. Looking at my last post talking about getting a haircut the next day is so surreal.

The funny thing is I even thought I was making it to that 3:30 hair appointment on Tuesday for most of the day. I think I made Hus call at 2:30 to cancel because I couldn’t talk through the contractions easily. And the baby was born 4.5 hrs later!

Let me start at the beginning though. Hafiz’s birth story 🙂

On Monday, at 40 weeks and 4 days, I did my usual routine with a few extra trying-to-induce-labor things. I did my 4.5 mile walk around the neighborhood, I ate so much pineapple that my tongue hurt and I ate this really yummy spicy udon chicken noodle soup for dinner (adding extra sriracha for more spiciness). In fact, while I was eating dinner I was feeling these cramps that I couldn’t eat through and I’d have to put down my spoon and wait. I didn’t even tell my family though, as I was so worried about a false labor alarm. And they didn’t continue long after dinner, so I ate some ice cream and went to sleep.

Then I woke up to “cramps” in the night – which in retrospect were contractions, but I didn’t time them until later and fully realize they were the real deal. I had it in my head that labor was going to be such a long, drawn out process for me that I didn’t want to get too excited in those beginning stages. I thought these cramps/contractions would probably abate and I’d be pregnant a week longer. I woke up at 3AM feeling the pangs in my lower uterus, got up to pee, and went back to sleep. Then at 7AM I woke up to flakes of snow falling outside in the grey sky, which was very bizarre. A feeling of “this will be a weird day” washed over me in that moment, because it certainly hadn’t been cold enough recently for snow. I was 40 weeks and 5 days and the date was 11/12/13.

Since the weather was funky and I was having “cramps” every so often, I decided against taking a walk outside and decided to just eat breakfast and make lactation cookies to freeze instead. While making the cookies I started having to pause when a cramp would come and breathe through it. But they weren’t so bad. This is when I told Hus, “Something might be happening inside of me.” His eyes got big but then I told him not to get his hopes up, because who knows? He asked what he should do and I said he should keep cleaning the basement as he had been. So he did. Once in awhile I’d use the timer on my iPhone to see how far apart they were, and found they were coming regularly about 6 minutes apart.

After baking, I went upstairs and got to work on an illustration for my book. I had done the actual sketching the day before so it was the coloring part, which was a good thing, because coloring takes less focus and I could sort of zone out. By this point I had to full on stop everything when a contraction came and put my pencil down. That’s when I decided to quickly download the “Contractions Timer” app on my iPhone because I noticed they were definitely coming in a pattern and figured keeping a log of their progression, as the app does, would be helpful.

So I kept coloring, listening to a “Call Chelsea Peretti” podcast, and pressing the start/stop for contractions. Soon they were coming 3-4 minutes apart and lasting 45 sec-1 min. Even though I was definitely in that 5-1-1 arena I had learned so much about in childbirth class, since I wasn’t in excruciating pain yet, I really didn’t want to go to the hospital. My birth plan (which I never wrote down or anything, but it was fully developed in my mind and communicated to Hus) was to labor at home as much as possible to prevent getting turned away at the hospital, which is a half hour from our house, or — my bigger fear —  being given the diagnosis of “failure to progress” once there for too long. Everyone was always telling me to labor in the comfort of your home, so I took that to heart.

However, I expected to have hours of fully knowing that I was in labor to take a bath, listen to music, make Hus massage me, whatever. You know, a birth story straight out of Ina May, right? None of that happened. When I realized how close and frequent the contractions were, we called the midwives at the hospital and they said to come in. I stubbornly wanted to push back our departure even more, so I suggested both Hus and I take showers and then sit and have some last minute quality time on the couch with Poqueta.

Hus showered first and then packed up the car while I hopped in. He grabbed everything on the bottom of my hospital list, the things that couldn’t go in the suitcase ahead of time: mini-cooler for my placenta, iPod dock station, birthing ball in case all the hospital ones were in use, pillow, my slippers, toiletries we only had one of, etc.  The hot shower made the pain of the contractions much more bearable and I didn’t want to get out. I even shaved my underarms and legs to avoid leaving, which is kind of a peculiar thing to do in labor.

When I did finally get out of the shower, my mom had come home, so we told her we were heading to the hospital. She was excited since many of her friends had told her, “Get Carly to hold out ’til Tuesday so the baby can be born 11-12-13!” I told my mom to not get too excited and that the baby might not actually be born until the next day.

After drying my hair and putting on clothes (purple tie dye tank top, grey drapey sweater, black leggings) I insisted on sitting on the couch with Poqueta as planned. I sat cross-legged and had to close my eyes and breathe through each contraction. My mom was sitting with me and didn’t think I looked in very much pain at all. However, I was getting upset because Poqueta didn’t want to sit in my lap. She kept going to the opposite end of the couch. I decided she didn’t like the energy of my contractions, and that she knew something was up. And the reality was, my pain was gettin’ real, so to speak, so I told Hus, “Let’s go.”

I immediately knew that having to be in an upright sitting position with the seatbelt on was going to be horrifically uncomfortable, but Hus was all “safety first” and wouldn’t let me go seatbelt-less. I writhed through every contraction, and started to be able to anticipate when they were coming because they were so frequent. I kept saying “Oh no, here it comes…” and then trying to focus on my breathing like we had practiced in childbirth class, inhaling and exhaling to the count of 4. I wanted to squeeze that handle on the ceiling of the car and did a few times, but it was much better to just relax, as hard as it was to actually do. It was a little past 3 o’clock and rush our traffic was beginning, so once inside the city limits there was a lot of congestion and I was being more critical of Husein’s driving than ever. Poor guy.

We pulled up to the main entrance of the hospital and I literally ran out of the car into the lobby, looking around in a panic, trying to remember where to go. A security guard told Hus he could leave the car and go up with me to carry all my things (it looked like we were going to stay a month there, we had so much stuff). We pressed the button on the elevator and I remember feeling VERY impatient about how slow it was coming. When the doors opened on the 3rd floor, I pretty much ran up to the front desk of labor and delivery and she started to do my paperwork while Hus went down to put the car in the garage. I looked over at the waiting room, which I was told on my tour was normally empty because they don’t let visitors in and out of labor and delivery, to see it FULL of people. Every chair full. There were a bunch of pregnant women and lots of family members chatting excitedly, too. My first thought was, “WHAT THE FUCK?”

The lady processing my paperwork and giving me a bracelet seemed way too relaxed. I told her my contractions were 3 minutes apart. She didn’t seem very empathetic and said they were extremely busy and I had to wait in the waiting room. Full of people. In labor. Without Hus (for 10 more minutes). I wanted to cry. I think I did, a little.

So I went in there and sat down in one empty chair between lots of people, closed my eyes, and moaned through the contractions. Then Hus came and I lost some of my inhibition and dropped to the floor of the waiting room, leaning on the chair, continuing to moan. They were excruciating at this point, and I could tell the pain was being exacerbated by the fact that I felt so very unsafe. Why was I not being seen by a midwife already? I obviously needed help here! A woman next to us in the waiting room looked over at me, shook her head at Hus and said, “See, this is why I don’t want to have any more babies!” THIS IS SUCH A GREAT THING TO HEAR WHEN YOU’RE IN LABOR, let me tell you. Had I not been using all my energy to get through contractions, I would have punched her. Truly.

I heard the other pregnant women in the waiting room talk to the desk lady, each of them with contractions 10 minutes apart. Some of them were going into triage before me. I was terrified and at once point decided I couldn’t hold back from making a scene. I went into the bathroom off of the waiting room and screamed through a contraction. I went to pee but instead of pee it was just lots of blood and mucus. Couldn’t actually get urine out. That must have been my mucus plug and bloody show.

After about 45 minutes of this torture, a nurse came to get me into triage. I walked into the room and threw off my shoes and pants, kept my shirt on, and put the hospital gown on top. The nurse started hooking me up to the fetal monitor and taking my blood pressure while the triage midwife came in. I kept on having to warn them when a contraction was coming so I could focus, breath and often moan/scream.

The midwife sat down on the bed and said she was going to do the pelvic examination. She put her hand up inside of me after one of the contractions and said, “You’re 9 centimeters.”

I looked at Hus. “Wait, what number?”

They both said “Nine.”

I felt a mixture of fear and relief in that moment. Relief because clearly I wasn’t going to get turned away, and now all the pain of the waiting room made sense. I knew I wasn’t just being a baby, that transition is supposed to hurt like a motherfucker. However, I also still felt scared from those first 45 minutes of limbo — it’s like the cortisol in my body was firing and couldn’t now stop. My blood pressure of course was high. This was not what I had envisioned. I thought I would get to chill in a birthing suite, listen to music while my cervix dilated, sit on a birthing ball, walk the halls, whatever. That was how most birth stories went, right?! I thought I would have time to process the fact that I was giving birth.

My nurse for labor, Sophi AKA angel of my life, came in and introduced herself. We somehow immediately realized we had the same birthday, June 28th! I loved her immediately. She put me in a wheelchair in between contractions and rolled me to a room I hadn’t seen on the tour but looked kind of like a mix between a birthing suite and a traditional room. It’s funny because a few weeks prior, getting a birthing suite (a special room in the labor & delivery wing just for natural labor and deliver that has extra amenities like a jacuzzi tub, living room type decor, less medical stuff around, etc.) was important to me. But in that moment I wanted a room, ANY room that at least was private with walls and no strangers. That seemed like luxury enough for now. I had no idea what this room was technically designated as but I didn’t care. It had a birthing ball (we had left ours in the car, figuring most rooms had one) and I asked for it to stay, but of course didn’t end up using it. Rather, as soon as I got out of the wheelchair, I threw myself on the floor, on my knees, leaning on the bed. Sophi was scurrying around the room preparing things. I think there was even a janitor still cleaning the room when we got in there. I had my eyes closed for most of the contractions so I missed a lot of what was going on. I remember Sophi asking if we wanted the lights turned down low (YES to that, made the room much less hospital-y) and Hus whipped out the iPod docking station to play my labor playlist.

It was probably close to 5PM at this time, and this is when things get very blurry for me. The contractions were coming with such frightening intensity and frequency that I wasn’t able to relax in between them at all. I had remembered from childbirth class being told that it was easier to keep calm with eyes open, but I could NOT open my eyes through the pain for the life of me. In fact, the way I coped with the pain was far far FAR less graceful than I had prepared for and makes me laugh at all my practice breathing. I pretty much said “Oh no here it comes, here it comes..” to warn everyone in the room not to mess with me (except for Hus who was supposed to put pressure on my back, though sometimes I yelled at him to back off) and then glued my eyes shut and moaned/screamed/sobbed through the contraction. I remember a lot of wailing/sobbing, and knowing that it probably wasn’t helping me to feel relaxed but honestly it seemed uncontrollable. I would say for 99% of these contractions I was on all fours on the bed, facing backwards, with the bed reclined upwards so I was leaning on my arms or draping my head over the top. I liked this because even if I did open my eyes I just saw a wall. The midwife from triage and Sophi kept predicting that my water would break with one of my contractions, but the contractions kept coming like waves and I was wondering why the hell it wasn’t breaking. This went on for an hour I think.

The only person consistently in the room with Hus and I was Sophi, who was totally amazing. She was incredibly encouraging and said all the right things. When I apologized for being such a screaming mess she told me I was doing amazing and that every contraction was bringing me closer to meeting my baby. The midwives were spread extremely thin because of the overcrowded labor and delivery floor. Sandra, who I had met before at prenatal appointments, didn’t even come in to see me until right before pushing since she was delivering another baby. However, the midwife from triage had been in and out and around 6PM told me I was fully dilated but that my water hadn’t broken yet. Did I want her to break it? I enthusiastically said “YES!”

Or maybe Sandra the midwife actually did the water breaking? Oh man I forget. Again, my eyes were closed A LOT. But someone broke my water and commented, “Whoa, it’s like another Katrina down here!” because I apparently had an extreme amount of amniotic fluid. It was a physical relief and a mental relief for me knowing that now that the water was broken, I could start pushing as the urge had been there for awhile now.

Shortly after breaking my water, Hafiz’s head was low enough and they told me to push. I was still on my back/leaning to the side from having the water broken, so Hus and I held one of my legs up bent to push a few times. I think we did this on both sides but I really wasn’t feeling it. So I went back to my laboring position of all fours, draped over the top of the reclined bed. This was much more comfortable and the midwife (It was definitely Sandra at this point!) told me my pushes were much more effective like this. The pushing definitely felt good and made the contractions more bearable, but they were also so much work that I felt scared I wouldn’t be able to keep them up. And the pain was still excruciating. This is when too much knowledge can really haunt you, because I thought of birth stories of friends or from books where pushing wasn’t effective and still ended in C-section. I couldn’t imagine coming that far and not getting to push a baby out at the end of it. I think this fear and adrenalin enabled me to push extremely hard.

I gave my all to every single push, and the noises I was making to survive them were definitely intense. I was sobbing and screaming a lot, crying especially between the contractions, telling everyone how scared I was. I also told Hus I loved him a lot because he was doing everything right this whole time. Just being really calm and relaxed, putting pressure on my back but responding when I barked other orders at him to stop or do something else. I just remember repeating, “I’m just so scared, I’m just so scared…” and my nurse Sophi telling me that was normal but I was doing so great, etc. Hus had put on my labor playlist, but I didn’t actually process that music was playing throughout the labor until around the time when the song “Brave” came on and Hus told me to listen to the song. I think I said really melodramatically between sniffles, “I have to be brave!” and believing it.

The pushing felt like it went on a long time, but in reality it was 45 minutes. I remember at one point screaming “WHEN WILL THIS END?!!” and begging the midwife to tell me where the baby was. There was a certain moment when the vibe in the room changed, I think the midwife suited up in her full on delivery gear which covered her head to toe, and there was this “it’s game time” attitude among her, the nurse and Hus. I felt then that they must be able to see a good amount of the baby and that he was now coming out. The push that got him out came soon after, and I remember doing the three usual pushes and then adding one more to feel him come out entirely.

Since I delivered on all fours and the midwife knew I wanted to do skin-to-skin and to let the cord pulse, there was some gymnastics type coordination involved in those first few seconds that she had verbally prepped me for ahead of time, but of course I had no control over my body in the moment so they had to assist me. Basically, though, I had to stand up on my knees, they passed the baby to me under my legs, I held him to my chest, and then had to turn around to lay back on the bed with him on my chest and still connected by the umbilical cord.

When I put him on my chest is when I noticed I was still wearing my purple tie-dyed tank top and the midwife goes, “That is the nicest shirt I’ve ever seen someone give birth in!” Pretty sure I just put Hafiz right there on top of it since my chest was still exposed and we got skin-to-skin contact. He was crying loud and so pink and perfect looking. I remember telling him, “I know I know baby, that was scary, I’m crying too…” I was still shaking and crying so much and still felt pain. It’s like it was just coursing through me and wouldn’t relent. I remember worrying that I was squeezing Hafiz too tight because of the pain. I delivered the placenta and felt pangs of pain with this but it wasn’t so bad, obviously, after pushing a big baby out.

After a good amount of time on my chest (couldn’t even put an estimate on time at this point), Hus cut the umbilical cord and they took Hafiz over to the scale to weigh him. 7 lbs 10 oz! Pretty big for my small self. The midwife had me open my legs as wide as possible and put my feet into stirrups at that point to stitch me up. I thought she would throw in a few stitches and we’d be good to go, but apparently I tore far more than the average woman. I think it’s because I pushed too hard, fueled by adrenalin/fear. The stitching went on for an hour and the midwife bluntly told me that it was hard to do because “things were pretty shredded” down there. She was injecting me with lidocaine but this part still actually hurt A LOT. I mean, nothing compared to labor pain maybe, but now my adrenalin was coming down and that whole area was so incredibly sensitive that having her stitch into it, even with the numbing medicine, hurt. At one point I had to tell Hus to take Hafiz from my arms because I was afraid I was going to squeeze him too hard again. Both my perineum and inner labia were torn. I didn’t know an inner labia could tear in labor but there you have it!

The nurse and midwife left us three alone after the stitching was done and we finally called our families and some friends, over an hour after the birth. My mom was still asking on the phone if they had admitted me or not, so she was pretty shocked when we said the baby had been born an hour ago!

Then Sophi came in and told me her shift was ending, and I asked if we could all take a picture together before she left. Then the midwife came to say bye and actually asked us if we could all have a picture together and Hus texted it to her right there. Someone came in to take Hafiz to the nursery for an hour to do some tests and give him his first bath. Prior to the birth, I thought I didn’t want to be separated at this time, but in that moment I couldn’t have cared less. I knew my transition to the recovery floor would be easier without him anyway. I felt so shaky and unstable that I kind of felt I couldn’t be trusted with a newborn, anyway. Then a new nurse came in to accompany me to the bathroom for the first time. My legs were wobbling so much I could barely stand up and blood was still pouring from between my legs. She hooked me up with two huge maxi pads and a cold pack that all fit inside these awesome stretchy mesh granny panties. Then she asked if I wanted painkillers. At first I said no, as I had just programmed myself to turn down all medication during the labor (not that they were offering epidurals or anything, the nurse and midwives knew my birth plan, but whenever they wanted to give me an IV or something I pushed back). She gave me this look like “Uhhh…” and then I realized, wait a minute, I don’t have a baby inside of me anymore to consider! Hell yeah I’ll take the pain meds! Give me the hard shit! Percocet and ibrupfen cocktail, it was. When it kicked in a half hour later I was incredibly grateful.

A wheelchair arrived to take me to my recovery room, where Hus and I made a few more phone calls and waited for Hafiz to come back from the nursery. Unfortunately, due to the overcrowded nature of the hospital that day, I had a roommate which meant Hus couldn’t stay the night. One of the nurses told me that there was an extreme number of women having babies that day because many of them scheduled inductions and C-sections for that particular date, 11-12-13. She said 12-12-12 the year before had been just as crazy. I felt bummed that Hus had to leave, but I was so grateful and relieved that Hafiz and I were healthy that I couldn’t actually get too down about it.

I didn’t sleep at all, though, because I just stared at Hafiz  or cuddled him the entire night. I’d breastfeed him when he would cry (somewhat pathetically since I barely knew what I was doing) and then I’d just hold him on my chest, kissing his face and head, literally all night. I also changed my first meconium-full diaper in the middle of the night and it was terrifying. I had to flag down my roommate’s nurse to help me, since I couldn’t stand up out of bed and grab the much-needed extra wipes.

I couldn’t have been happier when Hus returned the next day and our family was complete.


I’m really wishing that I felt more motivated to illustrate today. I had been on a mother f-ing roll for days and days up until now. But then instead of illustrating today, what did I do? I took a 4.5 mile elderly woman hobbling walk. I drank a yummy decaf latte. I scheduled my non-stress test for Thurday (womp womp). I poked my belly because baby has been on my right instead of my left for two days now and I’d like him to shift. I bought new dog food for Princess Pocahontas. I replenished my bottle of argan oil, aka best moisturizer ever, from Whole Foods. I also bought pineapple while there and felt really pathetic being that overdue huge pregnant girl clinging naively to her pineapple. Yeah right it will induce my labor. Then I thought about my hair appointment for tomorrow! To bang or not to bang, that is the questions? I had forgotten that I actually had the bangs of my dreams briefly three years ago. See pictures:ImageImage

I loved these bangs but no one ever knew I had them because my skin immediately reacted to some product the stylist put on my hair and my forehead got 100s of tiny little bumps (pimples maybe?  But it was more rash-like) that forced me to clip the bangs back for weeks to let my skin breathe and heal. By the time I let my hair down again they had grown out to an awkward length that forced me to side sweep them.

A tragic bang tale. I know.

But I think tomorrow I’ll give them another chance. I’ll make sure to ask the stylist for no product, even if that means my hair will look less like a movie star’s.

And now instead of illustrating I’m taking a nap. Tomorrow is 11/12/13 which would have been a sweet birthday for a certain baby boy but he doesn’t seem to be on his way. Sigh. Maybe he wants to share a birthday with his daddy this Saturday? Who knows – crazy kid!!!!



It’s funny that throughout my whole life I’ve noticed the insanely disproportional amount of mid-November birthdays that exist among people I know. Facebook has only helped to confirm my suspicions about this, because looking at the amount of friends that have birthdays in this next week or so is mind-boggling. Every single day this week has a minimum of 2, maximum of 6 birthdays. If I knew anything about math and statistics I could perhaps use the number of days in the year and number of friends I have to truly prove how THIS IS A LOT OF BIRTHDAYS ALL AT ONCE but I suck at math so let’s just take the observation for what it is.

I actually remember first noticing this trend in high school and then counting nine months backwards in attempt to understand this phenomenon. Sure enough good old Valentine’s Day is exactly 9 months prior. I seriously remember my mature high school self giggling at this realization, and feeling silly telling my friend Iliza (whose birthday is November 14th, aka EXACTLY 9 months after V-day) when she was conceived. Ugh I was such a dork.

Anyway, this just makes the fact that our own baby was conceived on that day even more hilarious. Valentine’s Day was never even one of the holidays that Hus and I took seriously in the 6 years of our relationship. Maybe we’d use it as an excuse to go out to dinner rather than cook at home, but there were never any special presents, chocolates, flowers, teddy bears or balloons. I’ve always considered it to be a lame Hallmark-created holiday and we agreed from the get-go to not care about it. The only memorable Valentine’s Day I can even think of was when we were living in Oakland and went to a this awesome performance called “Fuck Valentine’s Day” where these renegade comedians performed love-hating bits in the back of a bar. There was a lot of audience participation as well, which both Hus and I volunteered for. I wrote down a really funny/embarrassing sex story on a piece of paper and the comedians acted it out and Hus was in the male pole-dancing competition. THAT was a great Valentine’s Day.

Aside from conceiving our son, we followed our typical pattern this year of doing nothing memorable. Under doctor’s orders, we had sex at exactly 8PM on February 14th, I lounged with my legs up against the wall for 30 minutes, and then we went to Tacos on the Street for our favorite cheap Sayulita tacos. Doesn’t sound romantic but it strangely was by sheer fact of knowing we might have made a baby that night.


I’ve had my phone on airplane mode most of the day because I just didn’t feel like answering texts and calls regarding the baby. Hus said this kind of makes me a bitch and that I should appreciate people thinking of me, but whatever. I did write back eventually when I turned my phone on later in the day, mind you, but I really don’t need to be fielding this communication in real time. I actually do appreciate people thinking of me but I’m trying to keep distracted and in a happy place which is hard to do when I’m constantly having to write “nope still no baby” to people. Feel me?

The truth is I’m feeling GREAT!! I guess I’ve adjusted to the extreme discomfort I was feeling just days ago and now my body feels okay. Still hobbling around a bit and have lower back ache, but no big deal. I made a hair appointment for 3:30 on Tuesday at this fancy hair salon and that will be my little “treat yo self” if the baby isn’t here. Still feeling like I want bangs but I might chicken out and stick with layers. Either way they’ll blow dry it and make me feel like a movie star for a hot minute.

I can’t get a good angle to see but there may or may not be a few more stretch marks underneath my belly button. Gotta love it.

Almost done my book! Only 6 drawings left! The later the baby is, the more productive I am in effort to distract myself. Might even finish the book if the baby makes me wait another week (TERRIFYING THOUGHT THOUGH, AHHH).

He continues to flip from ROA to LOA (right-occipital-anterior to left-occipital-anterior). LOA is apparently ideal and ROA not so much, but I’m not stressing because obviously he can go between the two with no issue. When he is in LOA I try to do more squats and walking and stuff, but that doesn’t seem to be helping him fully engage. Pretty sure he’s going to do what he’s going to do regardless of what I do. That will probably be the story of my life as a parent, huh.

I want delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in my mouth right now. But instead I’ll eat trout because that’s what we’re having for dinner tonight. That should be good too.