The not-so-great news: Mama Miller is tired.

I’ve said this a million different ways throughout this second pregnancy, but let me reiterate that being pregnant with a toddler is not for the faint of heart. And what’s funny is that it didn’t start out that way. When I first found out I was pregnant with our second back in August, Ziggy was only 9 months old. All this was breezy and mostly exciting. But as he’s grown and I’ve grown, mothering has gotten exponentially more exhausting trying to tend to him, myself, and this baby I’m growing, bone by bone. Zig will be 17 months on Sunday (WTF), and I’ll be 36 weeks, and I would NOT be mad if Baby Bro decided to show up early. But I digress.

Before my second-born is here, I wanted to put together a list of things I want to do differently this time around. Parenthood is one of those experiences you simply cannot prepare for no matter how many books you read or fellow parents you talk to — you have to walk through the fire to forge your own takeaways on all of it. So, nearly a year and a half in, I have a handful of takeaways I think will help me (and maybe even you!) the second time around.

I will NOT be forcing the whole breastfeeding thing.

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This pregnancy has actually been relatively breezy, all things considered. And I mean that purely in the sense of the pregnancy itself. Sure, I’ve been sick with sinus infections and stomach bugs more times than I can count, but my actual symptoms have been identical to when I was pregnant with Ziggy. I’ve had no complications whatsoever, Bean (that’s been his nickname since day one) has looked “perfect” at every check-in, and time has flown.

But time has flown because since pretty much the day I found out, it’s been non-stop chaos. We immediately decided to needed to try and move and spent two months dealing with open houses and showings, which I don’t have to explain the perils of to you if you’ve ever moved before. We then took our house off the market around Thanksgiving and sickness was just waiting in the wings to make our holiday season a living hell. Ziggy and I both were sick over Thanksgiving, then Ziggy was hospitalized Christmas night, and again two weeks later to kick off the new year.

On the Friday of that second hospital stint, we decided to put our house on the market and host open houses throughout that weekend. By Sunday night, we had an offer that actually held but would catapult us through a month of literal hell (IYKYK) right up until moving day.

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This list of baby essentials isn’t about shilling out crap. I’m not going to share every single thing Ziggy owns just for clicks. That’s not how I operate. You won’t find a stroller or carseat here because there are infinite options and brands, and everyone has a preference (for the record, we are a Nuna family through and through). No. For this list, I sat down (and stood in Ziggy’s room) and thought long and hard about the ABSOLUTE MOST ESSENTIAL items that truly made/make a daily difference in my life has a mom when it comes to caring for a child.

I hope you or someone in your life who is expecting or trying to expect finds this list helpful. Remember that this is a free letter, so you can (and should!) share it with whoever you think would appreciate it.

Okay, let’s go.

1. The Nanit baby monitor

Listen. Some people prefer the more old school monitors where you have the little screen you carry around and the image is usually black and white and it literally simply monitors the baby and lights up red when the baby is crying, and that’s all well and good. But if you love technology and a baby monitor that gives you a shit load of data, the Nanit is for you.

We LOVE the Nanit. It’s a superior monitoring system as far as I’m concerned. Here’s a quick list of things I love about it so much:

• It’s app-controlled, which means you can see your baby from ANYWHERE. So if you have in-home childcare during the day, you can see them napping. Or when you finally get to go on some dates, you can check in whenever.

• Because it’s app-controlled, you can also load it onto an iPad that you can hand off to babysitters, nannies, etc. OR, if you don’t have an iPad, they sell an 8” monitor.

• It keeps video history, so you can scroll back and study things (like the time we woke up to Ziggy covered in his own vomit but had no idea it had happened overnight. We were able to look back and see the exact moment it went down).

• For the ultra paranoid parent (*raises hand*), it comes with a special sleep band or sleep sacks you can put your baby in to track their breathing (I did this only a few times in early postpartum when SIDS kept me up at night).

• It logs everything. Coughs, cries, amount of time it took for them to fall asleep, whenever they wake up, etc.

• It shows you in real-time how long they’ve been asleep, which is fun to look at when they finally sleep through the night and you get to see “Hey, Mom. I’ve been asleep for 11 hours and 12 minutes.”

• There’s a sound setting where you can lock your phone and put it on DND overnight, but the sound doesn’t turn off so you’ll hear them if they need you.

• There’s a built-in white noise function and even a microphone, but I feel like the microphone lays dormant until they’re old enough to try and climb out of their crib so you can yell at them from bed (or you can use it to freak your mom out when she babysits. I’ve done that before).

• You can use it to spy on potential buyers if you’re selling your home and having open houses (what? Who said that?).

Those are just some of the reasons I find the Nanit to be a superior monitor, AND you can build your system exactly how you want to. We literally only have the wall mount that is positioned directly over Ziggy’s crib, but there are extra cameras and whatnot you can also shop. It can get pricey, but it’s all beyond worth it. Oh and! If you have more than one kid, you can split screen the monitors! Just amazing.

2. BabyBjörn Bouncer

This is number two on this list for a reason: IT’S EVERYTHING. Your baby will literally live in this thing as long as they’re immobile. It’s the handiest contraption so you can keep baby by your side in a safe space while you try and get shit done. People will tell you not to put it on countertops, but they can fuck off. Everyone does it and it’s safe as long as you have your eye on the baby and they’re buckled in. If they’re not buckled and you leave the room, that’s on you. Just don’t be dumb.

3. Puppy pee pads

Curve ball, right? But hear me out. Our night nanny is the one who introduced this life hack to me, and I’m forever grateful. Instead of using washable cloth pads on your baby’s changing table, get a pack of puppy pee pads from Amazon (or even a pet store) and use them instead. Your baby is gonna pee and poo all over that washable pad to the point where you’ll have to wash it nearly every day. And sure, you can get multiple washable pads so you always have a clean one ready to go but why? Just get the puppy pee pads, use one at a time until it’s soiled, then throw it out and grab another. Wasteful? Eh, maybe kinda but not really. It’s genius and we’re STILL doing it 15 months in.

4. Diaper pail with foot pedal

Speaking of peepee and poopoo, THE ONLY KIND OF DIAPER PAIL YOU SHOULD GET IS ONE WITH A FOOT PEDAL. One of my best friends handed down an extra diaper pail to us with no foot lever, and because I didn’t know any better at the time, I happily took it and we still use it. BUT, having to hold a poopy diaper in one hand and open the pail with my other hand is NOT COOL. So, foot pedal. I don’t care what brand it is, just make sure you can use your damn foot. Heed my words.

5. Butt cream spatula

Let’s keep going with butt-related stuff since we’re on the subject anyway. While you’re more than welcome to use your hands to spread butt paste on your baby’s perfect booty, we have this silicone spatula that is extremely handy when it comes to, well, saving your hands. It even has a suctioned bottom so you can stand it upright! It’s one of those little tools that makes a huge difference in the diaper-changing routine.

6. *The* Butt cream of all butt creams

Parents have strong opinions when it comes to what they consider to be the BEST cream or ointment for your little one’s booty, and honestly, most of them are legit. However, for when your baby has a MEAN diaper rash, regular everyday ointment isn’t gonna cut it. My bestie who happens to be an ER nurse turned me on to Resinol when Ziggy had a series of gnarly butt rashes, and this is truly a miracle ointment. Hear me now, believe me later. Ever since having this on-hand, Ziggy’s diaper rashes don’t stand a chance. It’s truly incredible.

7. Sound machine(s)

No two sound machines are made alike as far as I can tell, so I can only offer you the two we use and love. The rest is up to you. And, yes — we use two. This is mostly because the layout of our current home has our three bedrooms very close together and right off the kitchen, so you can legitimately hear everything and we wanted to drown Ziggy’s world out while he sleeps. So near his crib, we have this travel-size Snooz that we keep plugged in but can unplug and take with us anywhere and everywhere (I literally use to put it on the edge of his Dockatot wherever we were in the house). It has several sound settings and is a perfect handheld size.

Then I got this brown noise machine to put ACROSS the room and create a surround sound system, if you will. I think I may love this one more than the Snooz, TBH. It’s just really solid.

8. The best bath mat

Now, they won’t need this for a minute (until they’re sitting up solidly on their own) but FOR WHEN THEY DO, it’s THE BEST. It’s thick, it’s heavy, and it stays in place. Sure, it’s gray which is kinda dull, but who cares when it does what it needs to do? It’s never caused us an issue and is really good quality.

9. Tommee Tippee pacifiers

Your baby will determine which pacifier they’re local to, but I have to weigh-in here and tell y’all that we tried so many, and Ziggy only ever wanted the Tommee Tippee pacis. He legitimately refused all other brands, and I get why. They come in 0-6 month size, 6-18 month, and 18-36 month. They’re SUPER lightweight, which really helps your baby keep it in without much effort! We probably have roughly 15 of them, and they’re just great? Another rec from my ER nurse bestie.

10. The softest 2-way zipper PJs

These are… EVERYTHING. The way Ziggy lived in these? You have to ensure they’re the “So Very Soft” material, so double check that always. But OMG. They come with and without feet (Zig has several of each variety) and are like butter on your baby’s already-buttery skin. And, of course, they feature a 2-way zipper because you simply shouldn’t own ANY OTHER KIND OF ONESIE. Snaps are your worst enemy. One-way zippers are a close second. 2-way zippers only, and these jammies forever.

11. Velcro swaddles

LISTEN TO ME. At the hospital, the nurses will give you those infamous baby blankets with the multicolored footprints on them. You know the ones. They will act like swaddling your newborn in these blankets is the easiest thing in the world. They are gaslighting you. They’ll show you how to do it then leave you for dead. What you need to get and BRING WITH YOU TO THE HOSPITAL are velcro swaddles. Don’t try and prove to yourself that you can figure out a velcro-less swaddle. It’s not worth the frustration, trust me. Unless you want to bicker with your husband in the hospital at 3am in the morning when your baby is one day old, get velcro swaddles and never look back. There’s no shortage of options on Amazon.

12. Baby Brezza Bottle Washer Pro

This thing CLEANS, DRIES, AND STERILIZES your bottles, and if you’re a new mom, you won’t believe what all that means in terms of saving your time and energy. We had the variety that solely dried and sterilized bottles for Ziggy and it was great, but this time around, we WILL be upgrading to this one that also cleans because we ain’t got time for that. This is a time and life saver.

13. Dr. Brown’s Bottles + Disks

DO NOT THROW AWAY THE DISKS. I REPEAT: DO NOT THROW AWAY THE WHITE PLASTIC DISKS!!! We are a Dr. Brown’s family. I’m actually confused as to why you would ever use another bottle, but I don’t want to digress here. Your Dr. Brown’s bottles will come with seemingly worthless and somewhat confusing white disks. THIS DISKS ARE VERY IMPORTANT because they serve as a “stopper” in your bottles, so when you’re on-the-go and pack a bottle or two and it inevitably tips over in the car, IT WON’T SPILL OR DRIP because you used the white disk stopper. I VERY STUPIDLY threw my disks out because I was like “WTF are these?” and I still regret it. Thank you for listening to this PSA.

14. Rectal thermometer

If you want to get an accurate read on your baby’s temperature every time, forget the armpit or forehead or ear thermometers. The most reliable read is from a rectal thermometer. There have been too many times when we’ve gotten a normal forehead read when he’s burning up, and then an accurate read with the booty hole one. Go for the booty hole. Always go for the booty hole.

15. Snotsucker

Every baby will act like you are murdering them in cold blood when you “suck” their snot, so please be mentally prepared for the blood-curdling screams. The reality is you’re actually improving their life tenfold, and it doesn’t hurt in any way, shape, or form. This is an absolute essential, and you will use it an infinite amount of times. It’s also the most satisfying tool, and you feel like a champion when you get a good “suck.”

16. Baby nail clippers

Do not waste your time with filing, even if it’s electric filing. And don’t go for the scissor variety of nail clippers. Get these traditional nail clippers that are baby-size, and thank yourself later. Every other kind of nail trimmer is a headache; these are the easiest way. Trust me.

17. Pulse oximeter

The owlet is a pulse oximeter, but I’ve heard it causes way more anxiety than it does helpfulness especially because you’re tasked to keep it on their foot all night even when they’re squirming and moving constantly. It’s also very expensive? If you’re worried about your baby’s breathing and oxygen level and want to have something on hand to check it, get this kid-sized pulse ox instead. After our two hospital stints, it’s been an extremely helpful tool for us around here.

18. Dockatot or similar

There’s been controversy over the Dockatot and its safety, but I feel like that’s for dumbasses who put the baby in it and walk away? This isn’t something you can set and forget your baby in. It’s a portable baby lounger/pillow that you can move around the house or take with you on trips for when your baby falls asleep outside the crib or outside of your arms. It’s an incredible tool for new moms. Now, for some reason that I don’t have the time to investigate, they’re only being sold via their UK website right now but that’s no issue because Amazon has an almost identical baby lounger for WAY less money that gets great reviews, so I’d probably just go for that one!

19. Mesh crib liners

If you end up with a paci-loving baby, they will inevitably accidentally push their pacifiers out of their cribs throughout the night as they sleep and squirm, and you’ll know it because they’ll be scream-sobbing about it. Loudly. These mesh crib liners are a MUST to help them help themselves and work beautifully UNTIL you have a 15 month old whose favorite activity is purposely throwing his pacis out over the top of the liners onto the ground for fun. 🙃

20. Playpen

As soon as your baby starts crawling, you’re gonna want to set up a designated area in which they can crawl freely. Zac had the foresight to get this big ass wooden playpen before we even knew we needed it, and it’s been a literal game changer in terms of letting Ziggy have “free play” but in an enclosed safe space. Of course, we let him run around the house but when we can’t watch him closely and follow his every move so he doesn’t knock over and break glasses or climb into the tub on his own (🙃), his playpen is where it’s at.

And that, my friends, are my 20 absolute ESSENTIAL must-haves when it comes to having a baby. As far as I’m concerned, if you have these 20 things on hand, you are golden.

Please share this free letter with someone who could use the knowledge!

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And, if you’d rather have one link where you can find all these links, it’s right here!

Until next time,

Mama Emma

But something wasn’t right Christmas night. We were going on day 3 or 4 of a 101º-102º fever that wouldn’t break and, as I sat in his chair holding him, I noticed something alarming. His breathing was not only incredibly fast but labored.

Zac had left the room to try and troubleshoot how we could calm him, and while he was gone, I texted him:

“I almost feel like he’s having trouble getting air. His breathing feels so labored.”

Zac immediately came back to the nursery where I, embarrassingly, started to have a meltdown. I couldn’t stop the tears that began flowing out of my eyes.

“Something isn’t right. I’m freaking out. I just know something isn’t right.”

I was hysterical.

We called my sister who attempted to talk me through and down, but after we hung up, I was still in a state. Zac Googled how to know when a baby’s breathing is labored or too fast, we watched a quick YouTube video on it, and began counting his breaths per minute. For a toddler his age (around 14 months), breaths per minute usually fall anywhere between 20-40, so when we counted 62, Zac looked at me. He then FaceTimed his sister (who used to be a L&D nurse), explained the situation, and held the phone up to Ziggy’s face/mouth for her to listen.

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good. No, that’s not good. I’m not happy with that. Bring him in.”

And that was that. At 11pm or so on Christmas night, we were on the way to the Children’s ER.

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But this pregnancy, I am struggling.

Don’t get me wrong — pregnancy with Ziggy was no walk in the park, but my mindset going into it couldn’t have been more different. By the time Ziggy came to be inside my womb, I had wanted nothing more for almost a solid year. It’s all I thought about, all I cried about… truly, all I wanted.

What’s funny is that Ziggy’s pregnancy and this pregnancy are literally identical in terms of symptoms (which is kinda why I figured early on that it was another boy). I have the traditional fatigue and indigestion and nausea, but I also have the more rare trigger finger(s) and carpal tunnel that I had with Ziggy, too. So, with any luck, these brothers will be very similar and I love that for us.

But for as parallel as these pregnancies seem to be on the surface, they couldn’t be more different. Because this pregnancy, I’m already a mom.

And

I

am

exhausted.

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I know today is an emotional day for you. It’s been a full calendar year since you pushed Ziggy out of your body and brought him into the world. Those first few months were scary as fuck, I know. You were petrified. In some moments, you not only wondered if you could even do this, but you fully didn’t want to. Remember that one night when you had a full blown panic attack in the bedroom and wanted nothing more than to not ever come out and not have to see Ziggy ever again?

But you did come out. And you saw him. And you rose to the occasion. Again and again and again and again until it became second nature to you. I know how deep your self doubt ran when it came to babies and kids and child-rearing in general, but you fucking did it. You’re doing it. And I’m just so proud of you.

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I’m not a get-to-the-airport-early kind of person. In fact, when I got through security today, I had exactly 20 minutes until boarding, which is exactly how I like it. I had already made peace with the fact that my only caffeine option was Starbucks, so I got in the winding line without pause. The good news is my gate happened to be literally right next to it, so I knew I could push it to the very last second before having to board.

For the record, I HATE Starbucks. Like every other red-blooded human, I was about it for a time with convenience as the main driving factor, but it’s crap. I view it as a last resort, i.e. on a road trip in the middle of nowhere, with a gun to my head or, like today, at the airport.

When I get up to the cashier, I order (a venti cold brew with 1/2 & 1/2, 2 pumps of sugar-free vanilla, and 1 pump of their honey mix, whatever the fuck that is. Just trying to make it drinkable, guys) and move out of the way to wait.

Now I’m well aware that the average patron is a cunt no matter the place of patronage. And I always make a concerted effort to not be that. I smile, I tip, I’m overly nice. Some might say I’m downright pleasant.

But the airport Starbucks is not of this world and neither are the “baristas” there. They evoke a certain kind of rage that I reserve just for them.

10 minutes pass wherein I coo at a puppy Goldendoodle whose owner is decked the fuck out in all ALO (or as I like to call it, An***xic Ladies Only. Allie and I once tried on the entire store and left feeling fatter than ever) and play on my phone. I realize that every single person who ordered before me has received not only their drink but also their warmed-up, factory-made, rubberlike pastry. I’m getting concerned. My flight will start boarding in five minutes, but I’m B21 (Southwest), so I still have a little bit of time to spend waiting.

Another few minutes go by, and my flight is actively boarding. I’ve been trying to make eye contact with any of the 3 baristas who are standing around chatting, and when it’s made clear they’ve been trained to not give anxious, hurried airport customers the time of day, I speak up.

“Excuse me?” Still, no one looks my way.

“Is my drink back there somewhere? Emma?”

The head barista looks at me in slo-mo, blinking for what feels like 10 seconds.

“We’re waiting on some ingredients to make it.”

“Oh! Ok!” I chirp semi-pleasantly with a slight edge of cunt.

All I see “waiting” on the back of the coffee bar are BLUE and PINK drinks, but I ordered a cold brew. Not a dragon fruit Rumpelstiltskin raspberry blue candy summer vibin’ jivin’ drink. I’m beginning to feel doubtful they even took my order down correctly.

More times passes, and they have boarded the entirety of group A, which means I need to get in line. I try one more time.

“Mine was a cold brew???” Full cunt here. No pleasantry at all.

The barista who barely looked at me before straight up turns her head the opposite direction to make eye contact with the other barista in a “you handle this” type of way.

“We’re waiting on more cold brew,” the new barista explains.

“OHHHH. OK GOT IT. YOU COULDN’T HAVE EXPLAINED THAT THE FIRST TIME???” I don’t say it, but I’m pretty sure my face does. Or at least I hope so.

I give it two more minutes, then throw in the towel1 and head to the gate.

I am irate. I’m furiously texting Zac a play-by-play, which I know he appreciates as he’s buried in work but I can’t help myself. THE OUTRAGE.

They begin boarding group B, and I hear a voice behind me “Emma?”

I turn. It’s not an employee but a woman. Just a woman at the airport like me, holding my drink.

“They finally made your drink.” She hands it to me.

“Oh my god?” I say. “You’re… wow. You’re amazing. Thank you so much?”

There’s so much I wanted to say and do in that moment. Offer her $100, tell her she deserves the world, hug her, say “You just restored my faith in humanity.” But as mysteriously as she appeared, she was gone. Like a fart in the wind.

The best part about this entire story is that I chose to wear the new sweatshirt Zac got me for Mother’s Day as my airport lewk. The one by Not Skinny Not Fat that says “You can be a mom” on the front, followed by “and still be a dumb bitch” on the back. And, to be fair, the sentiment means “dumb bitch” in more of a silly, goofy, reality show-watching, celebrity gossip-loving dumb bitch way. Not in a BITCHY dumb bitch way. But still.

I’d also like to add that we’ve been dealing with a horrific diaper rash on Ziggy this entire week, and it’s made me extremely anxious, stressed, sad, worried, and frantic.2 He’s had a lot of trouble sleeping because of it, which means we have, too and it’s taken me back to newborn sleep deprivation days. So I really needed that coffee. I was actually looking forward to it, regardless of its place of origin. This morning involved A LOT of tears, baby-screaming, ointment everywhere, poop and pee everywhere, and the rash not looking at all improved. I also hadn’t physically packed my bag yet, so it was just… A MORNING.

Anyway. Cheers? (Also, I’m so happy my grays are back. I will never ever dye or tone my hair ever again. Just a lost mom trying to feel better about herself only to realize that the natural state of her hair is what makes her feel best).

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Tuesday marked 6 months of a one Mr. Willam Ziggy Miller making his entrance into the world, and not to sound like every cliche ever uttered, but I’m having a hard time believing it.

I’ve found myself singing this song on a loop in my head for the last few days:

A short six months ago, we were holed up in a teeny tiny hospital room going on no sleep and trying to figure out how to swaddle this teeny tiny human we had created and I had birthed just hours prior. When we got home, I remember the first few days and weeks being blissful; challenging, yes, but mostly blissful. We were in that oft talked about love bubble that envelopes you right after greeting your baby for the first time. I couldn’t stop crying happy tears and was in awe of the entire process. This thing, this living thing, was in our house to stay. So helpless, so little, barely able to open his eyes. All he did was sleep and eat, and I remember turning to Zac at one point in the very first few days of Ziggy’s life and saying “This is fun!”

One of my fondest memories from that first week was Zac cooking us an incredibly delicious spinach, artichoke, and feta frittata, and feeding me with a fork as I nursed our son. We both wept and kissed frittata-flavored kisses over our little miracle.

And then, shit got real.

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I want to caveat this letter with a few things.

(1) I’m a woman, which unfortunately means I automatically have a never-ending tumultuous relationship with my body and body image. I’m allowed to change my mind about it constantly.

(2) I only share numbers and the like to draw a more accurate picture of my experience. Height, weight, pant size — it’s all relative. What’s “big” FOR ME is normal for others. What’s “small” FOR ME is normal for others. When I write these body-centric pieces, I’m basing it off my body’s experience, therefore I know what’s below and above average FOR ME. In other words, don’t take it so literally if you can help it.

Are we on the same page? Fabulous. Let’s dive in.

Talk to any woman, and she’ll probably claim that she has yo-yo’ed most of her life. She’s had thin years, fit years, “fat” years, healthy years, boring years, etc. Talk to any woman, and she’s more than likely fucked in the head when it comes to body image, weight, size, etc. Talk to any woman on any day, and her feelings about all of the above will differ.

Some days, she’ll take her life over it.

Other days, she won’t give it a second thought.

On the very rare days, she’ll exude confidence no matter what kind of body year it is for her.

My body has fluctuated across the “thin” to “heavy” spectrum since forever. I was skinny as a minute without realizing it most of my teen years into my early 20s, then when the natural thinness started to slow down in my mid-20s, I got all hopped on workout routines and “spiralizing” every vegetable known to man (the fact that I ate sweet potato NOODLES so enthusiastically makes me want to gag).

I’m not gonna sit here and break down my entire body image history because I’m willing to bet it’s not so different from every other woman’s in some form or fashion. The point is, it’s always been a journey and I’ve always gone through phases.

Postpartum is the latest phase and many aspects of it have got me thinking.

Here’s the rub: I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been. I dress it well (for the most part… I think?), but it’s all in my midsection (and my boobs, as we know). Sure, I dropped 25 of the 35 pounds I gained while pregnant, but I was already “heavy” for me when I got pregnant, so technically in my mind, I don’t just have 10 more pounds to lose to “get to where I was” — I have 20. Five months postpartum, none of my pre-pregnancy sizes fit, so any time I open my closet to ponder an outfit, I’m standing there being stared down by too-small clothes that I just know are talking shit about me.

“Oh look who it is,” says my form-fitting tank tops. “Big Back McGee, thinking today may be the day she can squeeze into us.”

“She is so pathetic,” my favorite pair of jeans whispers to last year’s barrel leg Old Navy pants. “The delusion that we’d zip shut for her is so sad.”

So day after day, I shut the closet door on my cunty clothes and end up turning to my old faithful flame — sweatpants. Or leggings.

But no more. Because this week, I decided something pretty profound for myself.

I decided that instead of shitting on and obsessing over my PP body every day, I’m going to allow myself to own it and be confident in it.

Confident, but not complacent.

Allow me to elaborate.

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Last week, I shared a little about our feeding journey with Ziggy — and it has been a journey to say the least. Last I left you, I was a few days into my weaning journey (that is, starting to stop breastfeeding/pumping) and hopeful that we had finally found a formula that agreed with Ziggy and that he enjoyed.

But by Friday afternoon, he had all but stopped eating. After a few good days on this new formula (Nutramigen for anyone who needs a quick refresher), he suddenly was on a hunger strike and told us so by hysterically crying after the first few sips of every bottle, refusing to ingest anymore.

Now, Nutramigen smells like pure ass, to be sure. Alas, I thought babies were like dogs in the sense that they don’t know stinky formula from a cheeseburger because how would they have anything to compare it to? But Ziggy’s visceral reaction to this formula had me all fucked up. Was it the actual formula itself or was something else going on? Was something… wrong? Was his throat on fire? Did he have horrific reflux that had burned his esophagus and I was just letting it happen to my poor, helpless child? I had gotten so many messages of solidarity re: Nutramigen being the only formula their baby could eat, so it couldn’t possibly be that my three-month-old didn’t like this stuff. It was deeper than that, and I had to help him.

Long story incredibly short: After seven hours, a chaotic waiting area, a prison cell of a room, and a doctor who was more interested in explaining his studies on weed to us and looking at his phone than helping us in any way whatsoever, we left the hospital with the suspicion that Ziggy was 100% healthy and might just be a picky fucking eater.

Long story longer but still super short: We were right. After throwing out the Nutramigen and replacing it with Kendamil (which, FWIW, was the number one answer via Reddit for “best formula for picky eaters”), our baby did a complete 180º. No more screaming and crying during feedings, no more hunger strike. We’re now on day four of our baby chugging Kendamil like a champ, happily shitting his brains out, and our lives feeling much, much better.

Now we know me. I operate by finding the humor in everything because if I don’t laugh, I’ll dwell and cry and spiral and spin out (this tactic clearly didn’t work on Friday, though). It took me less than 24 hours to be laughing AT myself about running Ziggy across town to the ER simply because he’s a little bitch with good taste like his mama. So much so, I saved my sticker ID I had to wear at the hospital and put it in his baby book under Month 3 and hope he makes me tell him the story a thousand times over when he’s old enough to appreciate it.

Our first unnecessary ER visit got me wondering how many other similar, silly stories are out there about rushing your baby to the hospital out of sheer ignorance and panic. So, I asked my IG audience to share reasons they took their babies to the ER and, per usual, they delivered.

Parenthood is hard. It’s also amazing and scary and stressful and rewarding and joyous and terrifying and maddening. So let’s all take a second to laugh at the absurdity of raising humans with some of these stories my followers so kindly shared with me over the weekend. They had to fit their stories into the character-limited questions box, so please enjoy some of these incredible one liners.

Reasons You’ve Taken Your Baby to the ER

“He snorted a pea.”

“She loved mac and cheese too much. Thought she was having a reaction to altitude.” This one made me laugh SO hard because the information is so minimal, yet I think it’s exactly what it sounds like. They were on vacation somewhere high above sea level, and her kid was eating too much mac and cheese so she decided something was wrong enough to go to the ER.

“He said his foot hurt. Literally, his foot hurt and I thought it was cancer.”

“Gas.”

“A not-insane fever when he was 1. Treatment was 4 Jellos and a popsicle that cost $3,000.”

“Feet and hands looked purple after bath… she was cold. 🫠”

“Thought daughter had a hernia… it was just black marker on her stomach.”

“He was coughing in his crib. It was a fake cough. He just learned how to do it.”

“Their arm was asleep.”

“He gently slid from sitting to the ground while on pillows and cried for 1 second.”

“Thought baby’s teeth were rotting. Realized he ate colored Goldfish.”

“Uncontrollable crying that turned out to be gas.” If we all had a dime, amiright?

“Breathing wasn’t ‘regular.’ Spoiler alert - it was.”

“He rolled off the couch. 6 hours in the ER. Doc said ‘Don’t worry - kids are bouncy.’”

“I thought my son’s penis was broken because it was purplish… he’s mixed race and it was his melanin coming in.”

“Tongue thrush wouldn’t go away… turned out to be breast milk. In my defense, midwife said thrush!”

“Legit losing her mind and it had never happened before. She was just teething. 😑”

“I thought she ate a AA battery. She was 3 weeks old. Literally impossible.”

“I thought she was blind because she wasn’t tracking objects - turns out, not blind - just too soon to track objects.”

“Her breathing sounded very disturbing. Doc said ‘This sounds…like a baby.’” HAHAHAHA

“His cry was different. Obviously that meant he was near death in my mind.”

“I was out of town and husband thought 1 year old swallowed a suction cup hook. It was still on the window…”

“Nanny said she had 100 and 5 fever. She meant 100.5, I just didn’t bother to check myself.”

“Refused to swallow food and excessive drool. Figured something was lodged in him. No, just teething.”

“As a nurse, I saw an entire family bring an infant in for bleeding from clipping her nails. The bleeding had stopped by the time they arrived, but I’m talking 6 family members came in, all panicked.”

“Had a black spot on the top of his mouth. It was lint.”

“Fussy, spiked fever, dressed in head to toe fleece. The doctor told me to unzip him and cool him off 🙃”

“Didn’t pee for 10 hours. Peed as soon as we got there. Billed $400 for Pedialyte.”

“Umbilical cord fell off and it was bleeding. I thought she was dying.”

“High fever that wouldn’t come down. Turns out our thermometer was broken.”

“She wasn’t crying during her normal five hour evening crying period.”

“He said his testicles hurt. Turns out, when you squeeze testicles, they hurt.”

“She was sleeping too well (i.e. too long).”

“My baby let out ‘too many’ contented sighs.”

“Still in hospital after birth. Frantically called the nurse in because… hiccups.”

“He fell off a chair and I thought I saw blood in his mouth. Turns out it was a fruit snack.”

Now over the paywall we go into the Land of the Personal.

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Ziggy hadn’t made much progress with overnight sleeping, he was suddenly refusing naps longer than 20 minutes, and he seemed to regress in the amount of ounces he was taking each feeding until he downright look liked he was wincing while swallowing.

And because your child’s happiness, security, and overall well-being becomes instantly all-consuming the second they exit the building that is you, I spent most of this month convincing myself I’m a bad mom.

I talked myself into believing that I was doing all the wrong things, making all the wrong decisions. That I had no problem-solving skills to offer in motherhood. That this (“this” being having a child) was a terrible idea. That my inability to do everything exactly right and “fix” my baby was precisely why I was so hesitant about being a mom in the first place.

“I’m not cut out for this,” I texted friends and family.

“I suck at this!!!” I shouted to Zac while storming out of the room mid-tantrum.

If he had a good feeding session with anyone else, I felt validated. “See? It’s me.”

If he smiled more at my mom or husband than he did me, I felt validated (and so, so hurt). “SEE? It’s me.”

As mothers, we feel we should know our kid best even when they can’t talk or tell us what’s wrong. We feel it should be innate, built into us. That we should just know. And while I did know something wasn’t right, I beat myself up for not knowing exactly what it was so I could fix it immediately.

If you follow me on Instagram, you probably saw the screen of text I posted sharing some insight as to what’s been going on the last several weeks with Zig. We had started him on formula to get him used to it so I could wean off breastfeeding at three months, and the formula we chose was recommended by our pediatrician. She instructed us to give any formula at least two weeks to see how a baby’s system reacts to it, so that’s what we did and what a terrible two weeks it was.

Now, I’m not saying that Ziggy’s extra fussiness and inability to sleep well or eat well was all because of the formula. It just so happens he was going through a developmental leap the last few weeks, and when that’s happening, babies get extra fussy because their brains are changing so fast. It’s coincidental that right when we introduced this formula he — unbeknownst to us — was gearing up to show us a new skill, i.e. rolling! So these two circumstances combined did a real doozy on his system.

He was constipated, in visible discomfort while trying to enjoy his bottles, and there were a few days where we literally could not set him down or he would scream-cry. Now, he’s been kinda fussy with eating since his first day of life, so him having trouble adjusting to this formula wasn’t a red flag to me… yet.

But it got to the point where I literally dreaded feeding him. The anxiety over whether or not he’d actually drink the bottle or start crying hysterically halfway through had me white-knuckling every feed (like literally holding the bottle so hard, my hand hurt). One afternoon, I actually cried with him because I was just so frustrated. Just mama and son sitting there on the couch in broad daylight, both wailing because he doesn’t want to eat and he can’t tell me why and it’s breaking my spirit.

Taking naps on his stomach seemed to help but only a little bit.

Using the Frida Baby Windi gas releasers seemed to help but only a little bit.

What made it more confusing is that he’d have a good day and chug an entire bottle, and I would think “OMG! We did it! He’s officially used to this formula and we’re good now,” only for him to become hysterical during the very next feeding.

We thought it was silent reflux since he was showing visible discomfort while drinking, so we brought him to the doctor, she agreed with us, and sent us home with liquid Pepcid. Things got a little better for about a week, but by this past weekend, we had regressed and I was losing my damn mind.

Because I just wanted my baby to eat. To ENJOY eating. To look forward to meal time and eat enough to feel comfortably full and take a delicious nap. But none of that was happening.

So on Monday, we went back to the doctor who quickly called out it was the goat-milk based formula (that’s supposed to be easy on the system and is the closest to breast milk and that she suggested!!! But whatever. Not dwelling on that) and suggested we get on what I now know to be the mother of all formulas, Nutramigen. It’s hypoallergenic, smells like rancid, rotting shit, and has literally changed my baby for the better in a matter of 24 hours.

I write all this because any mom reading this will know the exact kind of panic I was feeling. The helplessness. The all-consuming frustration with not being able to figure out how to make your baby his best self. And I know that’s motherhood — really, I do. A big fucking science experiment. A never-ending loop of trial and error. But those errors make me feel like the worst mom. A terrible mom. A mom who shouldn’t even be a mom. And what’s ironic is that all those feelings make me the best mom for Ziggy.

There’s a saying that goes something like precisely because you think you’re not a good mom is why you’re an amazing mom, because a bad mom is one that truly doesn’t care or worry about it either way.

So I guess the last few weeks literally consuming my every waking hour makes me the most incredible mom ever?

I’m hopeful this formula will continue to please my son, fill him up, help him grow, and stay consistent and I have good reason to believe it will (Nutramigen has been around for-eh-ver, and I can’t tell you the amount of DMs I got from other moms saying it was a miracle for them, including my aunt who used it over 40 years ago!). I pray we’re on the up and up. I still hate myself for even trying the other formula and for giving it to him for almost two weeks. I still feel like the world’s worst new mom for that, and I probably will for a while longer. But I’m trying to let the fact that I got him back to the doctor so quickly outweigh the self-hate and be replaced with self-appreciation instead, because I know this is just the beginning of “fucking up” as a mom, and I need to start thickening my skin against myself now.

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Earlier this week, I sent out a free letter asking free subscribers what free content they might like to see. Someone suggested something along the lines of listing out what helped me get through that particular week, and I loved that spin on my typical Weekly Digress. Each week’s Survival Kit will feature a grab bag of whatever the fuck got me from Monday to Friday, whether it’s food, drink, activity, a song, a reel — whatever. So here is this week’s Survival Kit.

Zevia soda

I’m not big on sodas. I never really have been. I love an occasional Diet Dr Pepper, and a regular Coke hits the spot like once or twice a year, but otherwise, I don’t dabble much. But… Zac got a case of this Zevia stuff in the Root Beer and Cream Soda flavors and OMG? I don’t know how they do it, but it tastes like the real stuff (there’s a tiny bit of ‘oh this isn’t the real stuff’ at the end of each sip but not enough to deter me). I’m sure it’s terrible for you and, years from now, scientists will discover it causes cancer or some shit, but it’s really great when you want a soda but don’t want to drink a can of sugar.

The YMCA

There’s a Y exactly 10 minutes from us, and I had the bright idea to tour it last week and signed up on the spot. It’s clean, it’s naturally lit with big ass windows, it’s residential so the clientele is more my speed and age, and they have childcare so you can drop your nugget off for a quick hour to get a workout in! I went for the first time on Monday and loved it. I haven’t been in the gym since last February and am very excited to get back into some sort of routine. I was a little apprehensive that they, a Young Men’s Christian Association, wouldn’t let me, an Old Jewish Woman, in but they didn’t even flinch. And they say we haven’t progressed… psh.

Nutramigen

It’s so fucking expensive, but you can’t put a price on your baby actually eating and not hating his life.

My Kindle

It took me so long to get on the electronic book boat, and now I can’t get off. Being able to read at night in bed without a silly little book light is life-changing. If I don’t read myself to sleep, I don’t fall asleep so this thing is a godsend. Truly. Currently reading: Here One Moment by Liane Moriarty.

Amazon leggings

Generally I stay away from Amazon clothing because it’s all so cheap and probably full of chemicals that are chipping away at my life. However, I was ready to get back in the gym but none of my old leggings fit my PP body, so I treated myself to these leggings and LOVE THEM. I feel they run big — in any other pant right now, I’d take a large but there was SO much extra material on the large so I sent them back and got the medium which fits perfectly. My point: size down one.

Cabo Créme

It’s an old wives tale to put cold cabbage leaves on your titties when you’re trying to stop milk production/breastfeeding. The cold felt great and I think maybe the method worked a little on me, but I quickly realized this week that cabbage on its own has nothing on my 34H engorged pregnancy boobs. I got so many DMs imploring me to get Cabo Créme, so I did and it’s as amazing as everyone says. IDK what voodoo magic is in this cream, but if you’re weaning at any time in your life, you need it.

What do we think? Are we fans of the Survival Kit? Hit the ❤️ button if yes!

And now for some recent Ziggy pictures for paid subscribers.

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This is that story.

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They say don’t go to bed with wet hair.

They say a lot of things, though.

Like don’t put the baby bouncer on the counter

But it’s so convenient.

Or don’t co-sleep with the baby

But it’s so delicious.

Or don’t wear the baby; he might get used to it

But sometimes it’s the only way to get things done.

Or don’t let him get used to the pacifier

But it’s the only tool you have for soothing once you’ve tried everything else.

Or don’t let him find his thumb, it’s a harder habit to break

But have you seen a little baby attempting to suck his thumb?

Or he should be drinking 5-7 ounce bottles by now

But he can barely get through 4.5 ounces.

Or don’t rock him to sleep because then he’ll expect it every time

But rocking and watching him slowly succumb to sleep in your arms is one of your favorite parts of every day.

Or he doesn’t need a bath every night

But, again, have you smelled a fresh-out-of-the-bath baby?

So, most nights, I go to bed with wet hair even though I shouldn’t

But after the feeding

and the burping

and the changing

and the rocking

and the playing

and the bottle washing and laundry folding

and trash taking outing

and pumping

it’s all I can do to even get in the shower

and wash my body

and scrub my scalp

and rub my face

and, sometimes but not often, shave my legs.

“Something’s gotta give” is my motherhood mantra

so sorry, hair — it seems to always be you wet under a towel,

damned to dry overnight.

Rode hard and put up wet with the grease from stressed hands

manipulating you into a messy bun over and over, a thousand times a day.

Or being tugged at by a newborn’s curious claws.

Thanks for being along for the ride, though.

We’ll get back to dry land someday again

when we’re well-rested and up for the challenge.

Until then, it’s the towel for you.

Sorry, girl.

— EGM

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Pain x resistance = suffering

In other words, when something sucks and you resist the suck, you end up suffering way more than if you were to just accept the suck for what it is — suck.

So here’s my confession: I’ve been trying to resist the suck of the newborn months for weeks now, and it finally caught up to me. Instead of leaning in and accepting life as it is right now, I’ve been trying to fight back. To find loopholes. To hurry the process. But I’ve realized there is no shortcut, so I’m leaning into the suck.

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I’ve always been a highly self-motivated person. Yes, I need friends and family and you all to cheer me on to keep my spirits up and give me literal or virtual pats on the back, but I never need outside motivation to do the thing (hate that phrase, kill me now). I rely on me and me alone to get shit done, and I’m really good at it. The getting done of the shit.

At the same time, though, I’ve always labeled myself as a procrastinator… so that’s confusing. Maybe that’s not the right term, though. I mean, what do you call someone who saves shit until the last minute but still nails it? Some version of a procrastinator, right? It’s not even really that I put things off — it’s more so I know how quickly I will be able to get a certain task done, so I don’t see the point in getting it done now when I have later, if that makes sense.

If you asked my parents, I’m sure they wouldn’t agree with most of this and stand firm in the belief that I am not on top of things, but that’s parents for you. Their POV is much different than mine. For example, do I let my gas tank get to empty before I fill it? Yes. And that, to my parents (and to my husband), is procrastination (and irresponsibility) at its finest. Have I been meaning to change banks for the past two years of marriage and still haven’t? Yes. And that, to my parents, is also procrastination when in reality, it’s just a pain in the ass and I’m busy.

To the outside world, my priorities may seem fucked, but they’re my priorities, and with the arrival of Ziggy Miller and the subsequent journey into motherhood, he has become my #1 priority, which means everything else has fallen to the wayside and I’m not… doing well about it.

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you carry him to the changing table, unzip the bottom half of his onesie, undo his diaper, and wipe him clean. suddenly, a fart. but just a fart. nothing to show for it. you giggle to yourself and continue. then, a louder fart, followed by a little bit of poo. “oh!” you whisper out loud to no one in the dark. finally, an even louder fart followed by baby poo flying out of his tiny baby butt and across the changing table. “oh fuck me” you whisper louder to the darkness.

you’re using every wipe there is to clean up the mess while ensuring your baby, who can’t control his arms or legs, doesn’t accidentally roll around in it when, suddenly, he decides this is a good time to add to the mix with some uncontrollable pee. he pees on the poo, on himself, on you, and on the changing table.

“JFC, ZIGGY!” you yell-whisper to your 5 week old who can hardly see 10 inches in front of him.

you frantically pick him up so you can protect him from his own excrement and feel something warm on your shirt — more pee. he’s pissing for a second time ON you.

“OH FUCK. JFC. OMG.”

you rip your shirt off, set him back on the newly clean changing table, and finally get a fresh diaper on him when you realize his onesie is soiled from his pee and now you’ve gotta change that, too. you figure you can easily take it off over his head until you’re doing just that and it’s stuck on his noggin and he’s now crying (very loudly) out into the darkness and you know your husband was up with him until 2:45am and you don’t want to wake him so now you’re feeling guilty AND frantic.

finally - FINALLY - the baby is clean and changed and calm. you feed him his last .5 ounce of milk, gently set him in the crib, and leave. you’re topless and defeated at 5am and you’ve still gotta pump because, oh - forgot to mention - you had already leaked through your shirt before Ziggy peed on it.

have a kid, they said. it’s the most rewarding thing in the world, they said.

There has been a constant stream of Amazon packages arriving at our front door over the last month (Ziggy is 1 month next Friday. WTF). The thing about babies is, although they’re barely a human, they seem to have strong opinions about pacifiers, swings, swaddles, carriers, and just about everything else. They may not know what’s day and night or that the tip of your nose is not in fact a nipple, but they know they fucking hate the Mamaroo and they won’t hesitate to let you know with loud, face-reddening cries.

So, in lieu of my beloved gift guides (no one is more sad about this than me, but I just do not have the mental capacity for it, y’all), I’ve thrown together this list of every single thing I’ve panic-ordered from Amazon since walking in the door with a newborn on Halloween. I hope it helps even one new mom or mom-to-be or someone who knows a new mom or mom-to-be.

Real quick though:

I’ve been sharing my initial thoughts and experience with motherhood behind the pay wall (for my family’s privacy and my mental health). Consider upgrading to a paid subscription to read these letters:

Okay. Let’s chat AmaMOM purchases!

SwaddleMe Swaddles

The very first thing I ordered was this pack of velcro swaddles. The hospital did it old school with the footprint blankie and that’s great if you’re good at blanket swaddles, but some of us need help with velcro to get the swaddle right and tight.

Plain Onesies

I quickly realized we needed more no nonsense onesies, so I grabbed this 8-pack. You can never have enough plain, easily washable, whatever onesies.

Mother’s Milk tea

Our night nanny told me to order this, so I did but truth be told, I’ve only had it three times. The licorice flavor is strong and I hate licorice, but I’ve choked it down in hopes of upping my milk supply. I don’t think it made a difference, but what I DO think made a difference are these MotherLove pills. Maybe it’s coincidence that my supply grew a ton around the same time I started taking these, but maybe not.

Puppy pee pads

Another night nanny suggestion and so smart. I got washable pads to put on his changing table, but she said to just get puppy pee pads because it’s cheaper and more efficient to throw them away and she was right. Genius.

A&D Ointment

Our pediatrician swears by this stuff over butt rash cream. She was like “I should be a spokesperson for it.” Ziggy had a diaper rash pretty much right away, and she said to “schmear his butt like cream cheese on a bagel” with this stuff, and we listened. It has a medicinal smell, but we’ve gotten used to it. Also, we use this silicone spatula to spread it, which has been so much better than using your hands.

Foaming hand sanitizer

You can’t not have hand sanitizer when you have a baby. I got this 3-pack and we have one in the kitchen, in the nursery, and in the diaper bag at all times.

Georgia Bulldog onesies

I mean, I had to. Zac may or may not have teared up when I showed him.

O’Keefe’s Lip Repair

Bro, my lips were BUSTED after giving birth and staying in the hospital. Even though I was on fluids for most of the time and chugging water, they were fucked up and my typical regime wasn’t cutting it. I got this stuff and lathered it and they finally healed.

Bobby nursing pillow

You can use whatever pillows you have on-hand, or you can get a designated nursing pillow so it’s more ergonomically correct, which is what I did. Love this animal print so much.

Night light with charging pad

My sister had this in her nursery, so I knew to get one for Ziggy. The charging pad is game-changing, and I use this egg-shaped light for 3am feedings so I don’t rouse my child too much.

All-in-one bottle dryer and sterilizer

Another night nanny suggestion! Brezza has one that WASHES, dries, and sterilizes, but it’s $250 so we went with this $57.99 option and just hand wash the bottles beforehand. Your call! Both are great.

Bottle soap

Speaking of washing bottles, this is what we use! I also use it on my pump parts.

Boba wrap baby sling

The moment I figured out how to use this and had Ziggy secure against me was one of the proudest moments of my new mom life. There’s just something magical about wearing the baby, and it’s amazing to feel how calm and snug they are in there. I watched this video to learn how to do it!

Pigeon baby bottles

We were using Dr. Brown’s bottles, but our lactation consultant introduced us to Pigeon. The shape of the nipple is an easier, more natural latch for babies and there are WAY less parts to clean (Dr. Brown’s has like 5 parts). Ziggy latched to the nipple well and we like the bottles, so it all worked out!

Phone grip

This is baby-adjacent. One or both of my hands are now occupied 99% of the time, so I got this little phone loop just to have a more stable grip on my phone while I one-hand Ziggy.

Baby washcloths

Not super exciting. Just realized we needed more!

Frida Baby medicine pacifier

We discovered that Ziggy fucking hates gripe water by way of him choking it all up and crying, so that was fun. But this medicine pacifier is super handy and will be even more so in the future!

Body lotion

We have the Musela body soap, but needed the lotion. Why does this stuff smell ssssssoooooo good?

Bottle warmer

The fact that I didn’t even think about a bottle warmer as something that existed shows how out of it my brain has been since giving birth. This is a detail I would never overlook, but it took our night nanny asking if we have one for me to be like wait… Anyway. It’s a must if you’re pumping bottles or using liquid formula!

Digital rainbow colored clock

You are obsessed with time when you have a baby, especially if you’re trying to get on some semblance of a schedule. Therefore, I got this little digital clock for Ziggy’s room so it doesn’t feel as much like a casino when I’m feeding him at 3am (cold, dark, and you have no idea what time it is). The rainbow colored numbers are so fucking happy, I can’t get over it? Every time I look at this clock, it makes me smile, which is saying a lot when you’re sleep deprived and feeding your newborn at all hours of the night!

Baby swing

My aunt insisted I get this Graco swing and was singing its praises. My best friend gave me her Mamaroo, but we quickly discovered it’s not Ziggy’s favorite (and, as it turns out, no one’s? Literally so many women have written me saying their child HATED the Mamaroo. It’s bizarre). Zac put this together yesterday, and Ziggy immediately took to it. It’s also half the price of the Mamaroo and doubly as effective in calming your baby! I foresee a lot of daytime naps in the swing.

Infant insert for swing

However, Ziggy is way too tiny to fill out the swing right now, so we ordered this infant insert to help keep him and his head cushioned!

BIBS pacifiers

I don’t want Ziggy to rely on pacis, but they’re called pacifiers for a reason — they literally pacify. Because he’s so little, he’s having trouble keeping heavier ones in his tiny mouth, and after several moms recommended these super lightweight BIBS pacifiers, I got them and they’re a game changer!

Stroller organizer

After one trip to Target, I immediately knew I needed this. It holds two drinks, your phone, and whatever else you want to have immediate access to at the front of your stroller. You can even take it off the stroller and wear it (say, at a park or something). Amazing.

(Another) baby carrier

For the days I don’t wanna deal with the cloth wrap, I got this carrier. It hasn’t arrived yet, but it has 4.6 stars and over 72k reviews so I feel like I’m gonna be happy with it? Stay tuned!

— EGM

so little.

you couldn’t possibly need so much

yet, you do.

i’m a writer

yet, when it comes to you

i feel illiterate.

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Me: “That’s the whole point of me writing this letter. To say that I’m not in a good headspace.”

I am thankful.

I am grateful.

We are blessed.

Our baby is healthy and gaining weight and already over his birth weight.

But this shit is fucking hard.

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