I hope

that Medium stops showing me posts based on my reading history. Today’s post? How to wake up at 5am.

Let me tell you how Medium. You have a baby that doesn’t sleep, that’s how. Take that.

Don’t force the baby they said. Don’t force them to eat, it’ll just cause more feeding issues. Say it louder for the people in the back. Say it louder for the Asian parent in me. Say it louder for the anxious parent in me wondering why her baby is dropping percentiles on the growth curve. Say it louder.

So I’m trying right now. J is on his gray Owl sit-me-up chair, because he doesn’t have the trunk control to sit in a high chair yet, and I’ve finally got the splat mat set down even though I bought it from Amazon weeks ago. Oh and he’s sporting his super cute Bumkins Pooh Bear apron bib, because if I’m going to take the time to squeeze his wiggly arms into sleeves, well, it better be cute. And I’ve put random carrot there for him to play with. No pressure, right? So far, carrot has been flung, maybe tasted.


He’s starting to lose it, so this post may have to end here.

I didn’t know I was having episodes until my therapist said it that way. Because I was comparing it to my past and anything is better than that. But it’s still not normal.

Today the sun shined in my soul for the first time in awhile. Today I could actually count oh, that’s an episode. Oh, this is one right now. Today I could check myself when I started to feel the anxiety rise. Today I looked outside of myself a little more. Today I don’t care.

And J just stuck a piece of the fabric chair into his mouth. And made a face.

No pressure, they said. So I sit here and watch and wonder. And breathe. 1–2–3–4. Hold-2–3–4.



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