100 Days of Luca

One hundred days of Itsy Bitsy Spiders and This Little Piggies.

One hundred days of baby play groups and mommy meet-ups.

One hundred days of feeding and burping and sleeping and rocking and crying.

One hundred days of exhaustion, and one hundred days of joy.

Traditionally in Korea, babies don’t leave home until they hit 100 days, a nod—I assume—to the days before Korea was a so-called “first-world” nation, when surviving 100 days was an accomplishment to be celebrated.

My little survivor is thriving, and more and more, I’m learning to be a mom.

I’ve learned to stop looking for patterns in his schedule and behavior; they change weekly. I’ve learned to take walks when we have a rough day; fresh air is healing (and walks usually equal naps). I’ve learned I don’t have to entertain my son every second he’s awake; he’s perfectly happy to chill in his bouncy chair and watch me finish household chores, as long as I talk or sing to him. I’ve learned that getting babies to fall asleep is (an understatement) challenging. I’ve learned that sometimes, when he just won’t fall asleep, it’s ok to rock him to sleep in the living room while I sniffle through an episode of Parenthood. I've learned babies have lots of personality only their primary caretaker(s) can see.

Looking back, the first six weeks were a blur, a crash course. The following eight were an exercise in trial and error, and trying again.

I rarely have a moment to myself, but my life is full.

I get frustrated enough to cry some days, but I am content.

Here's to tens of thousands more Luca Days to come.

Cheers.

Finding Empathy

With Tasha at the Kite Festival on the Mall, spring 2010

The summer I earned my Bachelor’s degree, someone dear to me said words that cut to the core. They hurt, and I cried. A lot.

I shared the story with my close friend Tasha that autumn, and tears fell again.

But not just my tears.

The beauty of my friend’s empathy comforted me. She left the comfort of her own skin to live in mine for a moment, to feel what I felt.

It was healing.

I’ve felt sick to my stomach for friends before or even cried for their pain on occasion; I’ve tasted empathy. But now, empathy is the staple of my emotional diet. My heart seems to have stopped worrying about me and instead centers on a new set of flesh and bones: my son’s.

Luca's second bath. He loves baths now!

Luca cries when he is hungry if I take too long to start feeding him. He cries when he’s tired or uncomfortable, and he cries when he has gas. He cries when he wants to be held but I’ve tried to set him down. He cries sometimes when he’s just cranky, though usually that means he’s tired and can’t fall asleep.

These cries—the ones I can help fix—were tough to hear at first. For a while, my new-mama heart broke when they rose above a fuss. Now that our family of three has found something of a rhythm, those cries don’t bother me as much. Let’s face it: That little face contortion and high-pitched "WAAAA! WAAA!" are heartbreakingly adorable.

(Disclaimer: Luca is not a colicky baby; he soothes relatively easily for the most part. I’m not sure how mothers emotionally survive with infants who cry hours on end, and I’m sure they don’t think cries are cute.)

The other day I bounced a sleepy Luca in my arms and let him fuss while Joe and I cleared up a previous miscommunication. Luca fell asleep amidst our conversation.

But.

When the cries are real, I shatter.

Like the time I got stuck in traffic driving our stick shift and Luca woke up hungry. He was (and still is) too young to understand why I wouldn’t respond to his hunger, so his cries grew frantic. I felt helpless, and I felt with my son.

His cries triggered something primal in me: I must respond. I must protect.

Finally, I pulled into one of the restaurant-lined alleyways of Myeongdong—Seoul’s central shopping district—parked illegally at the first open curb, and got in the back to feed and soothe Luca.

And like yesterday after he got his two-month vaccinations.

It’s better than getting the actual diseases, I kept reminding myself.

Feeling him tense in pain at the needle and listening to his cries as I comforted him afterward were bad enough, but the real pain came later. About four hours later.

He was in a good mood that evening and had napped well when he suddenly started screaming. I’d never heard cries so awful and terrifying and sad.

Joe and I did what we could—changed his diaper, gave him Infant Tylenol—but there was no other way we could help, so I just held Luca close and comforted him the best I could as he screamed and cried. His red, sore little legs shook and shuddered. I took deep, relaxing breaths to try and help him calm down.

And I felt pain.

My tears joined his.

Joe later took him from me to help, and Luca eventually fell asleep on his shoulder.

Luca at 2 months old

I know in the scheme of things that shots aren’t a big deal and he has probably already forgotten (though his legs clearly still hurt, which is why I'm typing this with one hand while Luca naps on me). But I don’t have words to describe how I felt watching this beautiful creature’s pain, feeling his pain.

I realize I’ve never loved anyone in quite this way before.

I love my family and friends, and I feel so strongly about Joe—one of my classmates at Georgetown once told me I came up in conversation and the other person said, “That Mallie really loves her husband.”—but with Luca, it’s different.

I don’t mean I’ll cry or spoil Luca whenever he skins a knee or doesn’t get the toy he wants. I mean when there’s pain he doesn’t understand, something he or Joe or I can’t make right, I imagine I’ll just hold him and feel it right along with him.

Perhaps my heart will grow little calluses to steel itself from this depth of empathy, but this is not a pain in myself I will seek to fix.

Because I think this is what it means to be a mother.

* * *
"When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. ... Jesus wept." John 11:33, 35

Navigating Motherhood's First 6 Weeks: Things I Found Useful

Wandering the aisles of Buy Buy Baby and Babies R Us last winter felt like drowning. What do I need? What do I want? What will my baby like? How do I choose goods for someone I’ve never met?

My conclusion: The baby products world is a racket, hitting parents-to-be at their most vulnerable points.

Did you know there is a “status teether,” the Sophie Giraffe?

Sophie is gorgeous, she is made out of natural rubber and food paint, she is French, and she is in the mouths of celebrities’ babies. This is how they tug at moms’ heartstrings—we all want to best knick-knacks for our babies, right?

But.

It is a TEETHER, for goodness’ sake. For $23.

A $23 splurge is tiny in the scheme of things—less than a Friday night dinner, for many—but for an infant’s simple teething toy? Come on.

But…

…OK, I admit, when I saw Sophie, I wanted one. For no practical reason at all. Sound silly? It does to me, too. This is why I will not buy one, though no judgment on those who do. It’s just that my mother taught me to be a little bit too practical—I used to believe $20 was the right price for a good pair of jeans. (Now I like my jeans to also look good, something I haven’t found for $20 in ages.)

Since Buy Buy Baby and Babies R Us—or even Amazon.com—can be intense for the uninitiated parent (they were for me—particularly the stroller section), I’ll share what I found most valuable in the first six weeks of parenthood.

(DISCLAIMER: At seven-and-a-half-weeks old, Luca is starting to like and need new things, so I’ll have to update my list later in the year—though some of these are timeless, like:)

Good, Supportive Husband
I have a newfound respect for single mothers out there—I honestly could not do this alone.

Joe is thoughtful, helpful, and all around the exact teammate I would want for a challenge as steep as learning to care for a newborn. Not to brag, but here’s just a taste: He often takes initiative and does the cloth diaper laundry (more on cloth diapers in another post), and he wakes up at 6am to see if Luca is awake or being noisy in his sleep. If so, he takes Luca out of our bedroom so I can sleep until Joe has to get ready for work.

And get this: He’s brought me breakfast in bed several mornings to make sure I got to eat. There’s nothing like an egg sandwich and OJ to make the morning go smoothly.

I chose the right husband.

Extra Support the First Few Weeks
For us, the first couple days of Luca’s life were a dreamy babymoon: It was Joe, me, and a baby who only slept and ate and peed and pooped. No crying, really. Perfection. Then we realized we have a baby, and babies get fussy—sometimes for no apparent reason. It’s not always easy to sooth them or discover how to care for their needs… while still tending to your own.

Since Joe and I were hoping to eat and sleep (and shower) now and then, extra support around the house was vital. My parents to the rescue! They were companions, sounding boards, short order cooks, kitchen cleaners, laundry doers, and more. It didn’t hurt that my mom, a nurse, knows a lot about babies from her days as a labor and delivery nurse (she also did a pretty bang-up job raising three of her own). She pulled me back from the ledge a few times when I thought I’d done something to screw this whole newborn-care thing up—like when Luca’s umbilical cord caught on my clothes and popped off during a middle-of-the-night diaper change, she was right there to tell me it looked just fine and must have been ready to come off anyhow. Whew.

Thanks, Mom & Dad!

Breastfeeding
For me, breastfeeding has been a godsend—especially in those early days. Yes, it was difficult, and it hurt and I got sore (and it still is sometimes difficult, hurts and makes me sore).

But once he was latched on, I would gaze at my tiny new son in awe as I became his lifeline to nourishment, and as I rode the gauzy waves of mommy hormones. It felt like floating on a peacefully warm river after a glass of wine. Or like love.

Of course, nursing these days has become a practical matter done basically anywhere, anytime, but this dreamy Mallie-and-Luca-bonding still happens, particularly during night feedings. I think those hormones must be God’s way of softening the blow of sleeplessness, and the blow of dramatic life change.

Puddle pads
I knew I was in trouble when I started to describe pee as “sneaky.” Or when something getting peed on didn’t automatically make it a candidate for immediate washing (we can just turn the Pack and Play sheet around, right?). Maybe it’s a baby boy thing, but my son can pee. I can’t count the number of diapers he’s peed through—disposables and cloth (and yes, we know to point his manly business down…). These puddle pads serve as a mattress liner for our co-sleeper, as something to set Luca on when I pull him up to our bed to feed him at night, and as a backup when the Pack and Play mattress liners are in the wash, among other uses.

Arm’s Reach Co-Sleeper
I got this only because it was a good deal second hand, but I am so grateful for it! I don’t judge people who co-sleep (as in, the baby sleeps in the parents’ bed), but I don’t feel safe doing so myself. To me, the Co-Sleeper is the best of both worlds: The safety of a crib with no blankets, pillows, parents who might roll, etc., as well as the closeness of co-sleeping. One side of this mini-crib pulls down to let it cozy up to our bed. Pictured right is the view from my pillow—sweet huh? I can just glance over to see whether that grunt is a sleep noise, or whether that little squeak-breath was choking or just another one of my little guy’s sounds (it’s always been the latter—thank God). But the best part is that I can just pull him up onto our bed to feed him while I doze.

Aden + Anais Swaddle Blankets
Love. Love. Love.

Looking for a good shower gift but want to skip the registry? Look no further. These blankets are the closest things to a “status swaddle,” but with good reason. They are adorable, cozy, breathable muslin that is big enough to bundle a baby into a proper burrito without pulling too tight. Plus, they are great for helping me maintain modesty while feeding Luca around others (when I don’t feel like using my nursing cover). I’d never heard of these before I received them as a gift, and we use them as often as possible when they are clean, at home or out and about. Thank you, Meg!  

SwaddleMe
These little Velcro straight-jackets were another surprise blessing. I’d received the two I registered for, but I also got a bunch as hand-me-downs from a relative here in Korea. I was going through three a night for a while (see “puddle pad” section, above), and it is so much simpler to just Velcro Luca into the swaddle rather than bundling him up in a blanket or zipping him in footsie PJs.

He’s still a little Houdini—he can get his arms out!—and sometimes we just put one on with his arms out anyway, but if he’s having trouble falling asleep, his arms are usually the culprit, waving all around and distracting him. Easy solution: strap ‘em down (gently, of course).

The downside? The Velcro scratches my skin when I burp him, and he grew out of them really quickly; we’ve moved on the sleep sacks and sleep gowns.

Baby-wearing looks good on Joe

Hey, a man's gotta eat.

Baby Carrier/Wrap/Sling
I'm a convert to baby wearing, but not because I'm anti-stroller (we love our Britax carseat/stroller combo). I first went with it because we live in a city that is not terribly stroller friendly, and where the subway rules since parking is slim. But I fell in love since it is so much easier to be in tune with what Luca needs when he's so close to me. The Hana Wrap (pictured left) is my favorite while Luca is small, but I plan to switch to my Ergo Baby as soon as he's big enough for it. We also have a hand-me-down Infantino (pictured right) that works now that Luca is a bit bigger. It's easier to pop him in and out, though it puts more pressure on my back.

Bouncy chair (and/or swing) AKA The Reason I can Eat Lunch or Put On Make-Up
We got our bouncy chair cheap and second hand from a departing embassy family, and this was another accidental pot of gold. On days I want to actually eat or make myself look presentable while Luca is awake, I can lug the little guy around in his bouncy chair to the bathroom, the mirror, the kitchen, anywhere. He gets to hang out with Mommy and I get things done—with just a little bounce now and then to keep him comfortable. I also get to keep looking at his cherubic face, which makes me happy.

Also, I’d heard baby swings were magic for soothing, and sometimes ours does work like a charm (more so now that he is older), but when Luca is fussy and unhappy in any position I hold him, the bouncy chair is my secret weapon, and I feel safer letting him sleep there rather than in the swing.

Exercise Ball
I spent many an hour on the ball when I was pregnant to help with my sore hips, but the ball is truly the miracle soother for Luca. Hold him close and bounce away, and he’s happy as a clam. Often this will even get him to sleep.

Laundry Machine in the House
Enough said. Especially since cloth diapering calls for a load every other day.

Nursing Pillow
Particularly while establishing breastfeeding, the Boppy pillow was my best friend. It helped me position the little guy in a way that was comfortable for both of us. I don’t always need it anymore for breastfeeding (I can sit him on my lap now), though it is still the best thing when Luca is having a fussy feeding. Also, it works well for tummy time play!

Did I miss anything, moms? What was a must for your first few weeks?

Life Changes, and Luca Goes Gangnam Style

Hear that? It’s silence. Not the kind of silence that waits for a tiny stretch-grunt or sleep-sigh, or for a cry of hunger.

It’s the silence of solitude. This is the first time I have been in a different physical place from my son since he was born. Joe took him out for a little while to give me time to be alone.

Boy, how life changes. I love my son so dearly, and I’m happy I get to stay home with him. But after nearly seven weeks together, night and day, this hour or so respite comes just in time.

Some days, I just want to stay in with Luca. I don’t want to make plans; I don’t want to visit friends. I don’t feel lonely. We play; we dance; we/I do laundry. I start projects and don’t finish them. Blog posts take weeks to finish (except this one, which I started earlier in today before I knew I’d get a little me-alone time). I relish the times when Luca rests his head on my shoulder while I rock him in the Lazy Boy and sing whatever Disney or Broadway tune comes to mind. I treasure the nap times he spends on my chest, his sweet, milky breath pushing his stomach into mine over and over.

Luca "helping" with the laundry

Other days, I need an adventure—even if it’s a small one, compared to Life Before Motherhood.

Us, on Jihachul

On Friday, I braved the subway for the first time with Luca, who was safely burrowed into my Hana wrap. I’d heard the ahjummas (older Korean ladies) are ruthless on Jihachul, poking and prodding babies, and scolding mamas for not dressing infants like Eskimos—even in this humidity.

But really, it was fine. No one bothered me, other than with some interested stares and exclamations: “너무 귀엽다! 너무 예쁘다!” ; “So cute! So lovely!” On the way home later that evening, I had one lady tell me Luca should be wearing pants, but the woman next to me told me (in English) that older Korean women think babies should always be bundled. That woman was one of several friends I made on Jihachul—it’s amazing what an adorable baby will do! I got to practice some of my Korean, though I’m embarrassed by how much I’ve already forgotten. Pregnancy brain? Mama brain?

We met our friends at the Coex Mall in Gangnam, a stylish area south of the Han River (and the focus of the viral hit Gangnam Style. Have you missed it? You gotta watch it). Our matching wraps came from the business that first introduced us: Birthing in Korea, the doula center where I took my Hypnobirthing class. BIK hosts meetups each month where pregnant women and new moms connect.

This is my life now: Mommy meetups and playgroups, though playgroups, at this age, are really just another excuse for new moms to talk. There’s nothing like going through the same dramatic life change at the same time to bond people. The change truly is dramatic. THIS and THIS are what I was working on one year ago, August 24. But on August 24, 2012, I was at the Baby Fair.

Luca and Baby Tucker playing together on the changing table

And, oh, the Baby Fair.

Korea is extremely expensive. Without big-box stores like Babies-R-Us or even Target, fancy department stores are the place to find that perfect stroller or car seat. So when there’s a Baby Fair, the parents and parents-to-be flock to Gangnam for deals.

We spent a lot of time in the ultra-crowded nursing room (a cordoned off area with tables and chairs, and lined with padded tables for diaper changing).

…And we were happy to have our Hana wraps when we ran into a stroller traffic jam.

See? We can maneuver far more easily.

The rush-hour journey home had me rethinking the wisdom of the trip, but it was great to get out and remind myself that I truly can go (almost) anywhere I want with a baby in tow—especially during this sleep-all-day phase of life.
Even with Luca's frequent naps, I find little time for myself. That’s a funny concept to me right now: “myself.” Parenthood really knocks concern for self down several notches. I suppose that’s healthy, but it’s also healthy to find some time to recharge.

So, excuse me now, but thanks to Joe, I’m off to take a bath.

Luca’s Birth Story (or, Giving Birth to a Nearly 9lb Baby Au Naturale)

[Disclaimer: If you are not interested in birthing details, skip this blog. There may be moments of too much information.]

Luca was born early on the morning of July 10 after 8 hours of active labor. Drug-free, natural labor.

Would I go drug-free again with eventual baby #2?

Absolutely.

But if you asked me on Tuesday, July 10, my answer might have been different. I would have said: “I can’t even think about that right now. Too soon.”

And by “think about that,” I meant having more children at all.

But Mommy Amnesia—God’s gift to the human race—kicks in pretty quickly. A few days after the birth, the night had already gained a rosy, wistful air. It is a good memory. (Take THAT people who said every birth is a horror story!)

I remember Luca’s birth as an extremely intense experience like nothing I have ever felt in my life.

Was it painful? Of course. And beautiful.

Was it unbearable? Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?

It was amazing to know first hand how well my body was designed for such an experience—that it could open to allow life in the outside world to begin for such a wonderful creature, my son.

The day after... hence the relieved grin!

Since I wanted a calm, natural birth, I chose a birthing center with doctors, midwives and nurses who advocate natural birth, rather than a more institutional hospital with a doctor who may prefer to speed things along with drugs.

So Joe and I prepared by taking a Hypnobirthing class at a local doula center called Birthing in Korea (if you are pregnant in Korea, I highly recommend stopping in for a consultation to learn about birthing options in the country), and I hired a doula to support Joe & me through the process—and to help me stick to my drug-free goals.

Joe was an amazing birth companion and the most important person in the room, of course, but I don’t believe either of us would have been able to be nearly as calm without the support of our amazing soldier of a doula, Michelle—a fellow California girl.

And, as a bonus for me, the doula who founded Birthing in Korea (Lisa) also joined us at the hospital, to provide Michelle with some extra training. This meant I had an all-star team of three birth companions supporting me and helping me through my transition to motherhood.

On to the action:

Monday morning (my due date), I knew I would go into labor. I saw a little blood, and my contractions/surges (which had become a lot more regular over the past weeks) now felt crampy. But they didn’t bother me much, so I went about my day, which included a scheduled checkup at the doctor's office. She told me it could be 72 hours before labor would start, and that their fetal non-stress test hadn't picked up any real contractions, despite the fact that I was watching my belly contort and felt contractions while lying on the table... ugh (I think their machine was broken or put on wrong).

She also told me I was gaining too much weight and should walk around for 3 hours each day. Awesome.

In Korea, doctors believe you should gain a MAXIMUM of 22lbs, compared to U.S. doctors’ recommendation of a MINIMUM of 25lbs and a maximum of 35.

Even if weight was a concern, is 40 weeks really the time to bother about it?

So, I went home feeling frustrated and less hopeful.

The contractions/surges continued throughout the day, though it was hard to have the perspective to know they were getting stronger. And I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

When I was making dinner, the surges were strong enough that I had to stop what I was doing when one came on. They seemed frequent, but irregular, so I stretched out on the couch and started timing them.

They were less than 5 minutes apart.

I still wasn't sure if this was the real deal, but I alerted my doula, who hopped on the subway to go to her office (which is close to my house), where she planned to sleep that night, just in case. Since I could talk through my contractions, she was also not sure when things would really heat up.

She directed me to take a walk and then a bath to relax, which I did. If this were “false” or “practice” labor, this routine would have slowed my contractions. It didn’t: They were about 3-4 minutes apart, and definitely getting stronger.

I had to bend over and lean on a table, counter or the wall each time. Eventually I had to be on my knees leaning over my exercise ball.

Time becomes confusing to me at this point, but Michelle came over, and she and Joe massaged me through about an hour or so of surges before we decided to pick up (the founding doula) Lisa and head to the hospital.

Side note: My room at the birthing center/hospital was awesome. Queen-sized bed, living room area with couches and a coffee table, access to a big tub, and low lighting. Definitely the way to give birth.

Events at the birthing center are a bit of a blur in my memory because I really got into a zone. I was focused.

When we arrived, my doctor told me I was "only 3cm, so we will have to wait," at which I heard Lisa give a little annoyed laugh. I knew I was supposed to think positive and visualize myself opening up, so I thought, "Ignore the doctor. The doctor is wrong." (I actually really like my doctor, but her bedside manner translates as less than encouraging at times…)

Me focused, and with awesome hair.

I labored in the bed for a little while, then spent hours in a big tub of hot water. The heat helped a lot, but it was still an extremely intense several hours. I remember trying to convince myself, "Think of it as pressure—not pain. Pressure." But I had to keep convincing myself. Because, I admit, it hurt.

This may be TMI, but in the tub, my water broke. Dramatically. Apparently it doesn’t usually happen like this, but I felt a strong POP! (I swear I heard it, too, but I could have been imagining) and there was basically a jet pack of water bursting out. Michelle saw it, too. “Whoa!” I said, startled out of my zone, thinking it was rather awesome. (Joe even heard my exclamation from the other room, where he was taking a much-needed middle-of-the-night rest.)

After that, I started feeling more downward pressure with each surge.

We moved to the bed again after my body started the push reflex (based on my Hypnobirthing training, I didn't want to be told to push because human bodies have a natural expulsive reflex that will do it without a person’s conscious help). I really had no choice—my body was pushing for me.

His head was close (they had me touch it!) but my pushing contractions slowed a little bit, so we moved to a little wooden birthing stool where I could be in a supported squat.

After a few contractions on the stool, my baby was definitely progressing, and we could see his head. They put a mirror below for me to watch—before, I would have thought that was kind of gross, but actually, seeing his head and knowing where things stood encouraged me. It helped.

When the head came out—WHOA!! It was so big, I couldn't believe it. One minute it looked small and inside of me, but then suddenly a giant dark-haired head appeared between my legs. Wow. One more push and his body slipped out.

OH. MY. GOODNESS. That was instantly the most relief I have ever felt in my entire life.

It was 5:18am.

The stunned and joyful (and oh-so-attractive) look of a new mother...

"Take your baby!" someone told me, so I reached down and took him from the doctor, holding him to my chest while Joe and my doulas helped me to the bed. I stared and stared at the beautiful little creature in relief and love. My Luca.

When they weighed him, we were shocked: We did not expect such a big baby! He was 4.04kg, or 8lbs 14oz—nearly a 9-pounder.

To the doctor, I said, "No wonder I gained weight last week. It was just my big baby growing!"

And, in my defense, I dropped 16lbs that night alone, and by the following week, I had lost 25. Four weeks in, I’m 5lbs above my pre-pregnancy weight. Thank you, breastfeeding.

I spent that day and the following night recovering in bed, feeding my son and eating seaweed soup (미역국), the food new Korean moms typically eat every meal for an entire month. I believe it is supposed to help restore iron to the mother’s body and help with breastfeeding. Or maybe it is supposed to signify long life for the baby. Either way, I enjoyed it—it’s soothing and delicious—and I will definitely eat it again, in moderation.

Here we are, so happy and so sleepy:

Luca at the Fish Market

Today we braved the outdoors with Luca at Seoul’s fish market, much to the shock and chagrin of all the ahjummas (older Korean ladies) we passed.

“Ohh, too young!” they scolded. Or, “Too hot!” Or, “It’s too loud in here!”

In Korean society, newborns and new moms are not supposed to leave the house for the first 100 days after birth. Joe says it’s based on the olden days, when surviving the first months of life was an accomplishment.

Other Korean post-birth practices include eating seaweed soup every meal for a month and keeping the new mom warm at all times (apparently if she takes a cold shower or gets too cold or eats cold food, her loosened joints will never tighten back up, and she will always ache in the winter).  

...And Korea’s community-based culture means the women will not hesitate to tell us what they believe we are doing wrong.

Today, after the ahjummas accosted us as we entered, Joe quickly decided just to tell inquirers that Luca is 2 or 3 months old (he’s big enough) just to avoid the shocked response to his actual age—2.5 weeks old.

The fish market is a large, covered area of vendors, calling out their wares. Fish swim in tanks, and smaller sea creatures (some very strange and… well, phallic, like that thing in the middle of the picture at right) sit in bins of water, waiting to be bought and eaten.

“Want sashimi?” vendors would ask when they saw my parents and me (they asked Joe in Korean).

Joe bargains for our lunch

We found a clean-looking stall, and Joe ordered some good-looking (live) swimmers and we watched while a man cleaned and filleted them.

They served our lunch upstairs in a restaurant (with air conditioning, thank you very much!). Our two locally-caught fish were, to be honest, a little tough and not quite as tasty as tuna or salmon, but we were there more for the experience, and sashimi doesn't get any fresher than that.

After the raw fish, they served our third fish cooked in a spicy soup.




The best part of the day, though, was the chance for Joe and me to stick our toes into the waters of exploring town with the baby. My parents and I have done a few outings to meet Joe for lunch, see a museum or wander a mall, but the fish market was by far Luca’s most adventurous trip out of our house.

It’s funny, because the whole 100-days-inside rule sometimes makes me doubt my wisdom in wanting to take Luca out and about already—and in my ability to manage it.

But you know, we did really well, despite the fact that Luca had a big, messy stink diaper and also needed me to feed him. No problem; we managed. And we got creative—check out Luca’s little bed in the restaurant (right). Good use of a diaper bag and nursing cover, huh?

Joe and I are a good team, today proved once again. And I'm learning more and more that being a mom doesn’t mean I need to lock myself inside the house.

And now for a bonus picture of Luca in his diaper-bag bed... isn't he adorable??

Welcome, Luca Joseph

Was I really pregnant just two weeks ago?

It’s hard to believe I haven’t known my precious newborn forever—my life seems to gravitate around his, and weird sleep patterns mean my sense of time is distorted. I gaze at him while he eats; I nap or get things done while he sleeps (like now). Luckily for me, my parents are here making sure Joe and I get solid meals (and helping change those poopy diapers!).

At night, every grunt or whimper or coo has me turning over to see if he is ready to eat or ready for a new diaper… or if he has soaked through his diaper and the bassinet sheet. Again.

In short, I am so in love with this little man who has come to change my life.

Luca Joseph Kim arrived on July 10 at 5:18am after 8 hours of drug-free active labor (more on that in another post). He was right on time: His due date was July 9 or 10, and it was the 10th in Korea and the 9th in the U.S. when he made his grand entrance.

He weighed 8lbs 14oz and was about 21 inches long. We were surprised by such a big baby, but then I look back at my 40-week belly picture, and… well, I guess that belly was getting pretty large and in charge.

Luca, a version of Luke, means “bringer of light.” Joe’s parents provided his Korean name: 대근, which means “big root.” We are hoping he will be a solid, grounded man who is a light to those he meets.

We haven’t decided how we’ll spell his Korean name in English, but perhaps Daegan or Daegun. It sounds like “day-gnn” and rhymes with Reagan, if you say Reagan quickly.

I have never experienced a joy quite like holding my son in my arms. I am awed by such a gift from God—and by such a responsibility.

Isn't he the cutest? I think so, but then I'm extremely biased and I've got all these new-mommy love hormones kicking around.