Every day of Pookie Kaia’s life thus far, I have watched her gradually change and grow. Each day, her face has morphed just a little bit. Some days, she looks very East Asian. Other days, she looks more mixed. Some days, she seems fair skinned, and other days, she appears more brown. There have been many times I’ve looked at her and marveled over how much she looks like Chris. Other days, I smile to myself when I see how she has my exact same nose. Some days, her eyes look like mine, and other days, they look more like Chris’s. I also admire what Chris’s mum calls Kaia’s “Mona Lisa smile.” It’s a sort of half smile that makes you wonder what is going through her mind, and what she might have up her sleeve. It’s like she wants to keep us guessing.

There are days when I have seen my baby self from my old photos… right on her face. And then, there are even the days when I see little tinges of Ed in her face. I always loved looking at Ed’s baby photos. He was always smiling and giggling… and looked so carefree. He didn’t have the weight of the world on him them. He didn’t quite comprehend criticism or self hate then. I suppose part of the reason I love his baby photos so much is that in the life I can remember sharing with him, I never remember ever seeing him that happy or carefree… ever. So the photos capture a moment in time when he was that carefree and happy. They capture something in him that I was never able to witness in person.

Tomorrow will mark nine years since Ed passed away. Nine years ago, I wasn’t anywhere near the mindset of having a baby anytime soon. And now, we have baby Kaia here with us. Though she has two uncles, only one of them is still living. I wonder to myself how I will incorporate Ed into her life so that she knows him.. even though she will never meet or know him. I don’t want to make her sad or think too much about mental illness or death. But I do want her to be aware of life vs. death, about the circle of life. I dislike how many western parents today shield their children from even knowing what death is. That just doesn’t sound healthy or realistic.

Even Kaia’s birth and mere presence in my life is a reminder to me of my own mortality, that I will not be here forever, that we will not be together forever. I just hope she always knows she is deeply loved and always has my support.

A friend of mine is having a baby in a few weeks, and we offered to give our handed down bassinet to him and his wife since it’s still in great condition. Since Kaia has already transitioned into her crib as of mid-June, I told him that the bassinet would be ready to pick up anytime now. I had already washed the mattress pad cover and cleaned the bassinet after Chris took it apart. But because we’re used to the music attachment on the bassinet, we’ve still been using it at bedtime to put Kaia to sleep. Granted, it’s a bit redundant given we already have the Hatch sound machine playing soothing water sounds, but we partially just turn it on out of habit.

As I cleaned all the bassinet parts, I felt so sad to think that last night would be the last night we’d play the bassinet music for Kaia. We had many, many nights of playing this same music to soothe her to sleep, so there’s some nostalgia attached to this music maker and bassinet. This bassinet was the first place she slept in, the only bed she slept in outside of the hospital and one hotel for the first six months of her life. I obviously would be crazy to keep the music just to remember those bittersweet early days, and I know I have to give this away to hand off to my friend, but it still makes me sad and wistful. My baby is getting so big so quickly. She’s no longer a newborn. She’s a growing baby, and soon before I know it, she’ll be a toddler and then a little girl running around everywhere. The newborn phase was really hard, no doubt, but I can’t believe it’s already over.

So as ridiculous as it sounds, I was a little happy when my friend said he couldn’t come to pick up the bassinet today and would come on Friday instead. Well, I guess that’s at least three more nights of Kaia.. or well, myself, enjoying and reminiscing with this music.

Today is Chris’s parents’ last full day in New York with us before they leave to go back home. It’s sad to think that their month-plus long trip to the US has already come and gone so quickly. Every day as I get older, time seems to fly faster and faster, and I always feel like I want to hit a pause button just to relish the seconds and minutes a little longer. I’m even more cognizant of this now with little Kaia, seeming to grow more rapidly as each day passes.

I was sitting on the couch this evening, listening to Chris and his parents banter back and forth about healthcare in Australia and its pros and cons, and comparing this to the healthcare situation here in the U.S. and how dismal it is. And as I was listening to this half discussion, half debate, my mind went back to thinking about my own parents and our lack of ability to have even half of a discussion like this in a productive way. Chris’s parents will happily sit there and talk about why lamb is embraced in Western China but not in Eastern China. They will talk about the evolution of language and why different languages are spoken across China and India and how that came to be. My parents? We can’t really have many intelligent or productive conversations about almost anything. All our conversations are mundane, gossipy (usually because my mom brings up something inane), or about the everyday like eating or work or the baby, or flat out arguments or lectures. And even those everyday conversations are frustrating because my mom always comes at it from the angle that she knows everything because she has more wisdom than I do, and therefore I need to listen to her, otherwise “You will face consequences… because kids who are disobedient to their parents will be punished by Jehovah.” That was a constant threat and admonishment that Ed and I heard over and over from the time my mom started studying to be a Jehovah’s Witness since my freshman year in high school.

It’s not nice to compare, but it’s only natural to compare because for the longest time, I just thought the way my parents were would be how EVERYONE’S parents would be. Because you only know what you know, right? And as I gradually started making more friends and meeting other people and their families, plus interacting with those family members, I realized that I was in an unhealthy situation with mentally unstable, paranoid, and immature parents, and not everyone else had the same situation.

I want my baby to have a happy, healthy relationship with Chris and me and all her family members. I want her to know and love them, and know that we all love her unconditionally. But honestly, I have no idea what kind of relationship, if any, she will have with my parents.

Although we had gotten accustomed to leaving the US and mostly being in Asia most 4th of Julys in the past, once the pandemic hit, we didn’t really have much of a choice and had to be here. In 2020, we were in the Lower East Side and East Village. In 2021, I was grateful to be pregnant and traveling in Houston. This year, Chris’s parents are with us here in New York to spend time with the baby and us, and we went up to the Bronx to see Villa Charlotte Bronte and enjoy tapas.

We tried to put Kaia to sleep before heading up to the roof to watch the fireworks, but we could see from our video monitor via the phone app that she was getting fussy in her crib, likely getting “FOMO” and the sixth sense that we all had abandoned her. So Chris went downstairs to get her and bring her up to the roof with us, which made her happy and want to jump up and down in his arms as she wiggled about.

It was Kaia’s first 4th of July outside of the uterus. This 4th of July wasn’t that exciting or much of a day to celebrate considering all the disgusting Supreme Court rulings of the previous weeks, though. I have no idea how long we can continue to stay in this country with its regressive laws and backwards thinking. But one thing to celebrate is that Kaia is here, safe and healthy and happy, and we got to spend the day with her grandparents altogether as a family.

Chris has been away on a short work trip since Wednesday and won’t be returning until tomorrow, which means that I am basically on night duty. This means I am responsible for “stretching” the baby’s sleep and ensuring that if/when she wakes up in the middle of the night that I stick the pacifier in her mouth to soothe and get her back to sleep. Luckily for me, the first night was actually pretty good: last night, she didn’t stir and yelp until about 4am. I quickly put the paci in her mouth, and she fell right back asleep. Then an hour later, at 5am, she woke up yet again, except this time, her eyes were wide open, she was nearly kicking her legs out, and she was moving so rapidly that the entire bassinet was nearly bouncing. As soon as she saw my face, she broke out into a huge smile and started kicking even harder, indicating she wanted out.

Ummmm, no. I still need to sleep for at least an hour and a half. Mommy is NOT taking you out to hold and cuddle you at 5am.

I gave her the pacifier and told her that I needed to sleep, and maybe if she was good, I’d take her out at around 6:40. She ended up falling back asleep to then wake up again at 6:15 with nonstop babble. I heard her babbling from the bed and decided to let her babble to herself for about 25 minutes while I got some shut-eye time. I eventually took her out and plopped her onto the bed, which she absolutely adores being on. She just loves being on the bed with us. We snuggled and she kicked her legs, and I got her bottle ready for her feeding.

It’s hard to get mad at her for waking up early when she’s so darn cute. While I want to indulge her and spend time with her, I also need my sleep time to stay sane, so there needs to be some balance. I told this, but she didn’t seem to care what I said. Oh, babies. She will learn some day.

My baby doesn’t get a lot of milk directly from my breasts, but it certainly doesn’t mean that she does not love them. Every time she sees them, it’s as though her eyes get bigger and she starts wiggling her arms and legs more enthusiastically. Well, Chris, perhaps not even realizing it himself, managed to create a fake boob for our daughter.

The bassinet she has been sleeping in has bars on the outside of it, and when she moves vigorously in the bassinet, sometimes she bangs her head against the skinny bars. Chris got a little concerned, thinking she might get brain damage from banging her head too much against them. So he wrapped these thick, huge layers of bubble wrap around each of the bars where her head is during sleep. One of those wrap jobs is so thick that the bubble wrap protrudes into the bassinet and against the bassinet wall from the outside, which looks like a huge, round fluffy breast. So at night and early in the morning, when we’ve watched our baby lean over to that side of the bassinet, she tries to go at the side, mouthing and constantly licking and sucking at the “boob.” It’s the cutest and most hilarious thing to watch. And even when she is not in the bassinet going at the fake boob, you can see all her darkened saliva marks staining the area where the fake boob is.

“I’m so lucky that I have Joe,” my friend said over a Zoom chat the other day. When she was recovering from her c-section birth last August, she could barely stand up on her own for the first three weeks, and when she was able to stand on her own, she couldn’t really bend over, which meant she couldn’t change any of their baby’s diapers. Her husband did the lion’s share of taking care of the baby and the house as she recovered from the c-section, and she said she felt really bad about it. “We’re lucky to have partners who really believe in equal parenting in this day and age,” she said to me. “Our moms did NOT have even a fraction of this when they had us!”

She’s right. The current generation of parents are more egalitarian than the generations before us. But unfortunately, I see many, many posts in the mom and pumping/breastfeeding groups I’m in where there are plenty of dads that literally do nothing to help raise their children. They think it’s fully the mother’s responsibility to do everything child-related, and even say things like, “You need to control your child!” or “All you do all day is sit on your ass and pump.” That last one really stung when I read it. As someone who has attempted to exclusively pump since my child’s fourth week of life, I can say with firsthand experience that pumping not only fucks with your mind (“wait, I’m pumping milk to feed my child, but I can’t feed her directly from my boob, so I don’t get that direct bonding experience with her? WHY?!”), but it also just takes so, so much time and energy. Breastfeeding mothers do not attach themselves to an electric nipple sucking device for fun or as a hobby; we do this because we need and want to feed our babies the only thing they are able to eat aside from formula. We are producing food and nourishment for our babies to SURVIVE. And in a current time when formula has not only been recalled but is in scarcity, saying something that is not only tone deaf and ignorant, but it’s just plain stupid.

I’ve never had to explain to Chris why I wanted to breastfeed, whether that was directly from the boob or pumping. I’ve never had to listen to a dumb retort from his mouth when I tell him, “I have to pump.” I’ve never had to explain the benefits of breast milk to him or why pumping was a decision I wanted to push forward with to feed our child, even when I was angry or grumpy about it. He just got it and respected my wishes. He does pretty much all the baby’s bottle feeds other than the ones the nanny does now, and he actually enjoys it. If anything, I think he benefits from my exclusive pumping: it means he gets bonding time with our baby, who associates him with food (instead of me :-P). Whenever he walks into the room, her eyes immediately go to him. To her, Daddy = food. I know he loves this. Am I sad that she doesn’t associate me directly with food? Yes, but I’ve gotten over it now. She may be unaware of it now, but my body is providing the majority of her nourishment, and I’m happy knowing that. To think that other partners would not be supportive and would be flat out ignorant to the benefits of pumping and breast milk, not to mention completely be oblivious to the time and mental energy required to pump, just hurts my heart. And to think that other partners would not want the relationship Chris has with our daughter just seems sad to me. Why even bother to procreate unless you want to have a relationship with your child and contribute to their health, safety, and well being? It’s really unfortunate that not only so many women choose partners who are like this, but also continue to put up with this terrible behavior and treatment… in the year 2022.