February 11, 2018

Day eleven has turned to day fifty eight; my household decreases by one after this night turns to afternoon, trois heurs après-midi. My son is fifty eight days old; nothing and forever, all at once.

I wrote on her 红包 that her absence will be felt; I also wanted to ask her to be better to future grandmothers but left it unsaid; I hope it will be remembered in any case.

I’m waiting for ten minutes to pass for another pump cycle before I wait for sleep; I do not like my newer, (slightly) bigger breasts; I think well-endowedness is an impediment. I get the grouchiest at night; I do not know what my newnormal will be tomorrow, trois heurs après-midi.

In my mind is a party in which one old friend is delightfully received, but a glimpsed other is longed for. Driving home at night with orange streetlights for company and Spotify playing in the background. A welcomed heartache.

The after 3p.m. plan- feed him (hopefully the timing works), dump bedsheets and laundry and towels into the machine, pump. If the child is docile it will work.

Perhaps I should begin at 230. Oh, but 3 would work better. Life.

I have a friend who’s writing down memories of sadness, to analyse them with her pastor and later work on her relationship with her mother. I have stuff to work on with my mother too. Will I face the same unpleasant process one day?

I want to still recognise myself.



February 7, 2018


“Exclusive pumping provides the worst of both breast and formula feeding. Like breastfeeding, it is hard work, the mother’s breasts are constantly ‘in demand’ and the weight of responsibility… ; And like formula feeding, bottles still need to be steralized.”

(The alpha parent)

Edit: including this article too- https://socialweaver.co/knowledge-nuggets/5-things-I-wish-someone-had-told-me-about-breastfeeding?id=263



This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below: