Things I’m doing a lot more of since the baby came:

writing lengthy update emails to my friends, most of them probably inadvertently functioning as birth control for them.

sitting in the park.

video chatting with my family in Michigan:

writing desperate text messages to my fellow new moms.

Reading entire long articles and blog posts that I save in a crazed browsing hurry via InstaPaper and then read one-handed when I’m trapped under a sleeping baby with my Kindle. The Kindle is the best for this. (I’m girlpolish on there if you make an account and want to see what I’m reading.) I <3 the guy who created Instapaper, and need to actually give him some money.

Eating amazing meals dropped off by generous people, some whom I barely know.

Calling friends in the city and making plans to walk the city parks together.

Sounds suspiciously nice, right?

Let’s be clear here: I wasn’t working while I was pregnant. There was no reason for me to not being writing friends, calling family, sitting in the park, except that I was too busy making up fake stuff to do all day. The baby takes everything I’ve got on a regular basis, and builds only a litte bit back in, a teasing amount of encouragement and energy; these tiny moments of connection here and there. And that’s just wiped out all those fake things I used to do.

I wish I could claim no one told me it would be hard, but literally everyone did. Even as you read that, you stopped reading it, because it’s so cliche.

Apparently when that happens, you don’t feel like reading bits of news on Gawker, and Facebook-stalking semi strangers. You want to commiserate, laugh, share, and sigh with other people. Hmm and it’s awfully nice to have things simplified to that.

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