Boy Woww drew this picture. It captures how I’ve been feeling about baby-raising. (I’m the one holding the baby.)
I don’t find unfiltered joy in babies. My heart doesn’t explode into a love that I didn’t know existed. I find babies adorable and annoying.
It wasn’t always this way. At least I don’t think so. My institutional parenting memory is flawed by amnesia and stress hormones. But I remember enjoying K-Pants, my firstborn. I like new projects. I’d always wanted to be a mother. Then Boy Woww came: He was an easy baby—the tonic to the increasing intensity of his toddler brother.
But this baby. I haven’t been feelin’ it. She’s the ball and chain. I feel like she took a vibrant, passionate woman and turned her into a listless baby Sherpa.
Then we went away together.
I knew I couldn’t leave her behind when I went to Sri Shim’s celebration of life last Sunday in Hawai′i.
In discussing whether I should go, I told my husband, “This January has been really hard. Even though the reason is sad, I feel like being there will be cathartic and rejuvenating.”
It was our babymoon.
Not the kind where you go away before the baby comes, but the kind where you find joy and connection in a relationship that had been accumulating resentment and withdrawal.
It’s no surprise that celebrating Sri’s life ignited a glow. He is magic, the spirit of aloha. And that magic was everywhere last weekend.
The Fairy Pig was held the whole time. We slept together; she breastfed constantly—things I get annoyed by at home, but that felt natural while we were away. And words won’t capture how thankful I am to Mana and her family for letting us be there to experience this time with them, and for their hands in holding the baby and open hearts toward us and everyone who was there.