9-month appointment

I took Kaia for her 9-month wellness checkup, and everything is looking pretty good: she’s developing well, has little divots on her bottom front gums, indicating she may have some teeth in the next month, and she’s growing like a little weed: now, she’s jumped up to the 44th percentile for weight (from 25th percentile at her six-month checkup), is at the 88th percentile for length/height (though I do think the medical assistant didn’t straighten out her legs enough to properly measure it, but whatever), and 84th percentile for head circumference. She’s also developing stranger danger more: she was not happy to see the nurse practitioner and was even more unhappy with her handling her and giving her the first dose of her flu shot. But luckily, she cried a lot less at this appointment than in June and calmed down as soon as I picked her up. With all the solids she’s eating, it will be interesting to see where she is at in terms of her weight and height at her 1-year appointment. My baby is happy, healthy, and growing. I felt so proud leaving the doctor’s office today for her.

Play room

Up until this year, we’d never really taken advantage of the play room in our building. I’d taken family and friends who visited to see it, but we never really made use out of it because they never brought kids, and we had no kids of our own up until this point. But given that Kaia is now 9 months old and crawling, I realized that now is the perfect time to get her using the play room. So I brought her there for about an hour this afternoon, and she got to explore the play house, the little matted castle where she can climb up a cushioned stairway, slide, and tunnel. She seemed a little apprehensive initially, but once I gave her an incentive (always, her pacifier or my phone), she went along with it. And to my pleasant surprise, with a little support, she was able to actively and enthusiastically climb up the stairs, which I personally thought were a bit wide apart. But she did it twice! I felt so proud.

My baby is growing so fast. It’s exciting and makes me happy, but makes me feel like time is passing too quickly. Enjoying these moments watching her grow and evolve sometimes doesn’t even seem to be enough. Sometimes, I just want to freeze time and hold her face in my hands and just stare at her and kiss her. My little baby is getting bigger and exploring a little more of the world every single day.

Weather/seasons-appropriate baby clothing

A relative on Chris’s side had gifted Kaia three different outfits when she was born in multiple sizes. She thoughtfully gave a gift receipt because she told us that the hardest thing with getting clothing gifts when her two kids were born was to fit the size of the clothing to the time of year and season when it would actually fit the kid. I’ve realized that this was definitely very relevant because I had to return almost all of the clothes from our baby registry that were gifted simply because the outfits were too warm to wear between 6-9 months, which is essentially summer time here when Kaia would mostly be wearing summery things.

“Kaia has no fall clothing,” our nanny announced to me yesterday while going through her drawers and in the closet. “She needs to have layers and coats. Are you going to get her some?”

We had so much, perhaps even too much clothing, for her first 9 months of life, particularly 0-3 month clothing. I had to actively cycle through certain outfits to ensure she’d at least wear them 3-4 times. Now, her clothing pile has dwindled down as she’s gotten bigger, so we now have to actually buy her clothes to fit her soon-to-be toddler self.

Pacifier police

Once upon a time, we left Lenox Hill hospital with our baby and a whole ton of supplies that the nurses gave us. Included in the massive suitcase and bags that they packed us were five newborn pacifiers. We also had 4 pacifiers that were gifted to us via our baby registry, so in total, we had 9 pacifiers. At some point, one of them got lost while Kaia was out with her nanny at the park, so then we had eight left. And since that one pacifier went missing, Chris became the pacifier police overnight and started maniacally counting the pacifiers on the kitchen counter every evening after our nanny would go home to ensure that all were accounted for.

“Where is the 8th one?” he’d demand at around 6 or 7pm each evening. “You need to tell the nanny to count them at the end of each day!”

I thought this was ridiculous. Eight pacifiers really wasn’t that much to account for, and there was no reason that I needed to insist to our nanny that she had to keep tabs on every single one of them. And given that our baby is now nearly 9 months old and we managed to only lose one… to me, that just seemed like a miracle. We were either really anal about ensuring the pacifiers were all there, or our baby was just far easier to keep track of than other babies. In parenting forums, you always hear about things like pacifiers, bibs, and burp cloths going missing constantly.

So, I suppose this adds to Chris’s list of job titles: father, milk manager, baby bottle feeder, and pacifier police.

Crawling and more head bumping

Since Kaia has started really crawling (a few weeks ago, she was “army crawling,” but now she’s REALLY crawling!), she’s definitely accumulated a few scratches here and there on her arms and legs. On top of that, she’s also inevitably managed to bump her head quite a few times. She’s already fallen off the bed once (ugh). While in a sitting position, she occasionally loses balance and falls backwards or sideways and knocks her head. This is fine if she’s on the bed, in her crib, or on the play mat (well, she does cry when she falls on the play mat…), but when it’s on our hardwood floors, it can be painful. Obviously it hurts, and so she usually lets out a cry of terror and shrieks bloody murder for a bit until she is soothed enough.

I always feel so bad whenever I hear her cry like this. I know it’s a normal part of development and growing up; it would be completely unrealistic (and inane) to try to protect her from every scratch or fall). If she never gets hurt, she will never learn and grow. But it still pains me to see her face scrunched up in pain and agony, and all I want to do is hold her to soothe her. But alas, most of the times when these incidents have happened, guess what… I’m tied up to my breast pump. And so I’m usually unable to soothe her, and Chris the savior dad (or what he calls himself, the “ultimate parent”) comes in. It’s another way that Chris gets to build a bond with our daughter that I’m not always able to given pumping. So when I think about mothers who gave up on nursing or pumping early on because they wanted to spend more quality time with their babies, I totally get it. It’s been a huge trade off, but I still stand by my decision to exclusively pump to give the best milk to my baby.

When your almost 9-month old baby falls off the bed

I was recently reading a post in a Facebook Asian moms group about how it’s basically a “right of passage” to experience when your baby falls, whether it’s off the bed, out of a chair, off their changing table. You know how it goes: falls are the number 1 accident that happens with babies that results in some injury. In the newborn days, leaving Kaia in the middle of our bed was not a worry at all because she had no core strength to roll, and so we’d easily leave the room with her on the bed to grab another onesie to get her into — no problem. Once she started rolling at around six months, we had to start creating “barriers” with huge pillows all around her if we’d leave the bed even for a second because we knew she was a fall risk. Sometimes, to ensure she didn’t roll or fall off, I’d give her something I know she would get fixated on, like my (locked screen) phone or her pacifier, so it would buy me at least 30 seconds to a minute where I’d know for sure she’d be safe.

Well, the day finally came when I accidentally let my almost 9-month old baby fall off the bed. I had just finished changing and moisturizing her, and I was letting her roll and squirm around the bed as she pleased. I was at one corner of the bed, and she moved so fast, just outside of arm’s distance away, and fell off the bed — first with her head hitting the cushioned bed frame, then straight onto her head onto the rug. It happened so quickly that I barely even registered what happened for a second until her piercing scream and cries ensued. I quickly grabbed her and pulled her up to look at her, and for a second I wasn’t even sure if she was breathing because she had this look of terror on her face, and she just grew silent for a few seconds before continuing her shrieks of pain and terror. While she did cry a lot and eventually calmed down after being comforted by both of us, luckily, she had no bumps or signs of injury, and so we’ll just be monitoring her over the next 24 hours to ensure she’s fully all right. Within 20 minutes, she returned to her usual babbling, rolling, smiling self, thankfully.

Welp. That was a pretty shitty mom moment. I felt awful about what happened and that I had allowed that to happen. And it only made me realize (in a painful way) exactly how quickly she is developing, how fast she is crawling and rolling around, and I really need to step it up and keep up with her. I need to account for anything that she could get her hands (or mouth) on, I need to ensure she has barriers from dangerous edges, and I need to think three steps ahead before getting too far away from her when she’s on any elevated surface. This is when babies start becoming really dangerous, so I need to keep up with her better moving forward. Sometimes, you learn the hard way, but in this case, at least she is still safe.

Dads – then and now

My mom mumbled and ranted aloud multiple times while I was home. I’m pretty sure she meant for me or my dad to hear.

“I busted my ass off raising two kids nearly by myself!”

“I raised two kids with no help at all!”

“Now you have a baby. You know how hard it is!”

This one was meant for me to hear: “You are so lucky that Chris is so helpful,” she said, after observing Chris feed and burp Kaia multiple times, change her diapers, and organize her milk in the kitchen. “It makes it easier to have a family. Your dad… he was useless back then, and he’s useless now. You need to tell him what to do step by step, and even then he doesn’t do it right. It’s just easier most of the time to do it by myself.”

My mom always says she puts up with my dad because if it wasn’t for him, she’d likely already be dead in Vietnam decades ago. That’s probably true. She definitely owed her life to him. Unfortunately, he definitely has been an unsatisfactory husband and father. And with both their combined traumas, their marriage has definitely not been a happy one. It makes me sad for them, but it’s their life, and I can’t do anything about it.

I am grateful to have a supportive, egalitarian partner. If it weren’t for Chris having as much family leave as he had and being as supportive and progressive as he is, there is no way in hell I’d have managed exclusive pumping and likely would have just switched to exclusive formula feeding long ago. I’d likely be in a far worse mental state as a first time mother. But that’s the thing: as time progresses, people like Chris should not be the exception: they should be the rule. We need to expect more of fathers being active parents and expect mothers to do less than they historically had because they did WAY too much before.

Ed turns 43

This may be the first time I’ve been in San Francisco for Ed’s birthday since he passed, and how funny it is that this time when I am in town for his birthday, Kaia is now here with us. Coming back to San Francisco and leaving have never really been easy for me… pretty much since forever. When Ed was around, I always felt guilt that I was leaving him in the abusive environment of my parents. I always wanted to support him more, but never knew how to. Then, he died. I always have lots of conflicting thoughts and feelings around coming and being home– mostly because of Ed and how he should be here but isn’t; my parents’ mental health; the hoarding and clutter and dilapidated state their home is in. To me, the house is cursed. I still occasionally fantasize about burning it down. But I realize it resembles hell to me only downstairs. As soon as you are on the third floor where my aunt and her roommate live, it actually feels warmer both temperature-wise and in terms of its ambiance. It feels brighter; there is more light. She actually decorates and maintains her home so that it feels pleasant to be in.

In my parents’ home, it does not feel welcoming at all. It feels dark, desolate, and there is literally a cold draft running through the house that you can feel if you are walking barefoot. It comes from the sunroom. The level of clutter and hoarding always seems a little worse every time I come home. In my mind, there are a few times when it’s gotten heightened: the first time I really noticed it was my first visit home a year after I graduated from college; every subsequent visit there has been more accumulation of junk. And it really skyrocketed after Ed died. It’s almost like to make up for Ed’s presence, my dad started hoarding more things and having most surfaces of the house that are meant for sitting… not sittable, if that’s even a word (it doesn’t look like a word). The breakfast table seats have perpetually been covered in food stuff, cans, and appliances. My mom said that my bed and Ed’s are always covered with piles of paper and other random things when I am not there. The physical clutter always makes me feel more stressed and annoyed every time I am there. And when I say even the slightest thing about it to my mom, she gets mad and tells me I am causing trouble and to just stop talking about it.

I always hoped that as my parents aged that they would finally do things to enjoy life and be more comfortable: renovate the kitchen and have it be easier to use instead of having all these random tables and stools everywhere with paper bags and old newspapers everywhere; create fixtures in the bathroom that would make it easier to bathe and shower in; actually make use of all the space they have in their house, which actually is a LOT of space for two people. But instead, they do nothing and seem to only make it more uncomfortable as time goes on. The amount of time my parents spend separating out compost and trash is completely insane. My hope is based in just that: hope. It’s not rooted in anything they’ve ever indicated they wanted. I really don’t know what they are doing with their lives. I wonder what Ed thinks looking down at all this, wondering what the hell our parents are doing. I have no idea what they live for. My mom loves to talk about how depressed she is, but she doesn’t do anything to help herself, and this was even before Ed died, so it’s not just because of that.

I wish our parents the best. I really do. I just wish they’d learn to stop and enjoy life and all the privileges they had instead of picking fights about stupid, senseless things. It probably won’t happen, but I still wish it would.

I wonder if Ed were still alive today if he’d still be at home. It would be an even worse hell in many ways if he was still living there with them, likely getting tortured alive. My mom was never going to be at peace with Ed, alive or dead, as awful as it sounds.

Happy 43rd birthday, Ed. I am happy you are free from the hell that is that house on 20th avenue and that you are enjoying yourself truly, somewhere out there. You are free… free from all the pain, suffering, torture of that miserable house. You are free. But our parents are not and likely will never be.

When baby Kaia comes to the office

It’s amazing what a baby at an office does. Chris dropped Kaia off at my office at around midday, and when I could barely get the third floor doors open to our office, an entire group of about 15-20 Korean-speaking, female visitors descended upon her, cooing and making baby sounds, playing peekaboo with her, and gushing over how cute she was. Then, our CEO came over and started gushing over how sweet she looked. When I rolled her stroller over to the lunch area, all my teammates gathered around her to admire how sweet and well-behaved she was. One of my colleagues was so obsessed with her that she held her for what felt like ages, and after a little crying and fussing, Kaia felt comfortable with her, too. Some colleagues warned that we may have a babynapper on our hands…

Babies can soften even the hardest, most serious people. Some colleagues who I never thought would care about any baby took a liking to her and tried to interact with her. And Kaia is clearly good in office environments, as she barely cried at all and just seemed to want to stare at everyone (and eat all their lunches, too). I had pre-ordered a falafel salad for lunch, and while chatting with some colleagues, I could not get her to stop trying to grab my plate of falafels! I’m proud that she’s so interested in food, but still do not want her exposed to too much salt too early on.

As we left the office and went back to the hotel, I felt so happy to finally have met all my colleagues, been at a “real office,” and had my colleagues meet Kaia. I kept looking down at her giggly, smiley face, thinking how lucky I am to be a working mother — her working mother. Each moment with her is like a gift to me. While I have many colleagues who are now pregnant with their first or second child and complaining about it, and I get why they are complaining, I’ve never once complained about being pregnant with her or having her because I will always remember my road to have her was not an easy one. I don’t for a second take any of it for granted. And while working does take me away from her, I always remember why I am working — it’s to make sure she’s taken care of and is comfortable and has everything she needs.

“Nom nom nom”

“You are so obsessed with your baby,” my nanny said to me a couple weeks after she started with us. She had yet to learn this then, but my road to having Kaia was not an easy one, or one I take for granted at all. Every time I look at her, I still can’t believe she’s here, even after over eight months have passed. I still have a “Road to Emmie” folder of all my needles, hazardous waste box, embryo transfer, and ultrasound photos on my phone to remind me of that trying journey. I still can’t believe I had a healthy, complication-free pregnancy, and a relatively easy and smooth birth and recovery. Every day since, I give my thanks every night and tell her how grateful I am that she is here and that I have her. She is truly the greatest gift of my life. Every day, I feel lucky to have her.

My nanny is right, though: I am obsessed with her. Even the littlest things she does I tend to marvel at. Here’s a funny example: I never really quite understood where “nom nom nom” came from when people would write or text that about food they found delicious. People oftentimes call tasty food “noms” or “nomz” on social media. I’m pretty sure there are endless variations of hashtags around “noms.” Then, out of nowhere, while Kaia is eating different solid foods, I literally hear her say’ “nom nom nom nom” between bites and while chewing and digesting her food. I was like, THAT IS IT! That’s where “noms” comes from!! My baby loves her noms!!