1. Diapers. Today, on Zadie’s fifth day of life, I changed her first diaper. Zadie’s diapers are the same size I would have bought for Santi’s doll Langston: they are tiny. Her poop is still the black gooey stuff that starts with an M. I need to make some decisions on Elimination Communication sooner rather than later. We are mentally and physically prepared for it this time. I do think it helped Santi, along with the cloth diapers. I mostly felt, changing her diaper, again, how involved Mary has been. This is markedly different than my experience as a Single Mother by Choice with Santi. Mary doesn’t want to miss any opportunity to change or dress Zadie, nor to hold or rock her, they have a very strong bond. Mary’s love for little Zadie is abundant. I try not to think about Mary returning to the States next week. Also, baby girl parts are so different than baby boy parts. They require different cleaning. Note to self, ask the doctor about all the folds.
2. Child Care. Mary took the stand-in nanny, Grace, to show her Santi’s daily rigamarole of taking Santi to gymnastics: we cab to class and walk home through Park Virrey; on the walk home he eats fresh mango from a corner vendor; we take a potty to class and he sits before and after class; during class if he says popo we take him out and sit him down, he goes diaper free outside the home and pants free in the home; he wears shorts in class. Pack an extra pair of shorts and pants but don’t pack a diaper. Wawa means dog, brrr means car, up means down and down means up. We review his 25 most repeated expressions in his mix of four languages: sign, sound, Spanish, and English. This is the crash course in the rigamarole. Grace will be back at 7 a.m. and will take Santi on her own to gymnastics as Mary and I take Zadie to her first pediatrician appointment. Here is to hoping Zadie hasn’t lost more than 200 grams of her birth weight 3460. (7.4 lbs).
3. Baby Yoga. This morning was Zadie’s first yoga class. One of my regular practicing yogis that comes to the house every morning came and modeled what a full practice looks like. This was during one of Zadie’s two “Open Eyes” periods and she took in her first full sun salutation. We talked through the inhalation and the exhalation. I explained to her that we live in a community and that every morning begins with each member of the ashram doing an hour of something they love, it could be running, cooking, yoga, meditation, or in her case, practicing her big swinging rap arms, but that in mornings we all center, remembering what is important to us, and realign our intentions. Santi came and did sun salutations on his mat, “Mine, Mine, Mine,” he yelped between helping Mary make pancakes and taking his place on one of my iron-hard oversized breasts. Zadie got it, but hasn’t decided what her morning activity will be.
At breakfast each morning we play the Not It game, racing to put a finger on the the outside of one’s nose. Last finger to the face has the privelege of starting our round of gratefulness by speaking for Santi, in his voice. Today, we changed the daily gratitude game from, “Who speaks for Santi?” to “Who speaks for Zadie?” Santi graduated and now speaks for himself. “Santi, please tell us, what do you love?” I ask this young man. “Pan…Uvas…Bebe” he replies.
4. Tandem Nursing. I took my down time, meaning the part of the day where I didn’t have an infant and a toddler playing twister on my chest while chomping on my swollen udders, and called the free lactation consultant I talked to when I was working through the challenges of feeding Santi. Her name is Marla, we talked for two hours. I replayed my delivery for her scene-by-scene, we talked about Santi’s birth and his life, we talked about Zadie’s entry into the world and the main themes I see taking shape in my mind about her birth story. We reviewed the basics of tandem breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby wearing, pumping, pacifiers and mastitis. I quickly felt like I would be calling her weekly to process my new life as a mother of two. My first thoughts on tandem nursing are that Santi loves it; it is like he has been given a new lease on life. Whereas I was only squeezing out a few ounces a day for him these past months, he now has his mouth to a keg and is downing the whole thing with gusto. He nurses for 30 minutes at a time, six times a day. It is hard to believe little Zadie can even latch on to my nipples, but she is urinating like a champ, so something must be working. Did I mention she could end up as an orchestra director, she can swing her arms with such verve and drama?
5. My Recovery. I switched from full on diapers to the gigantic pads today, the kind for adults who wet their pants. Mary and I had a few good laughs which means I wet myself a few times, which in turn only makes me more and more sympathetic to toddlers in potty training and the elderly. I graduated from the ice glove to the ice condom. Diana, the doula, came by today for a house call and filled up condoms with water and put them in the freezer. I am not sure what the message is between the frozen hand and the frozen condom, but it seems like this whole attempt to soothe my undercarriage could make a good short story.
6. Ongoing Education. I reread the first two chapters of Happiest Baby on the Block. I had forgotten that there is an order to the five S’s: swaddle, side lie, swing, shhh, suck. And that the soothing effect kicks in when you do all of them. I swaddled Zadie for the first time tonight and saw again how much I hate the droopy dangly Anais and Aden blankets: I prefer the Swaddlebee velcro. I am terrible at tucking in that last bit. Mary went to bed early and I had my first live night parenting session. Today is the first day I can walk. I did a few laps between our bunker and Santi’s room, where he is asleep butt up, alone in his big queen-size man bed. I fondly remembered the hours I spent walking the ashram at night with Santi, quintuple S-ing him when he was Zadie’s age. I like the night shift. This was my first moment of feeling like I was alone with my two children: just me, looking over both of them as they slept. It felt good.
7. My Birth Story. Diana, the doula, sat down with me today and we also replayed my delivery scene-by-scene, decision-by-decision. Twice in one day was too much. I was exhausted. I hope to write the raw rough story in the next couple of days while it is fresh. A few main themes were the contradiction between wanting a natural birth, in the broadest sense, and yet choosing to attempt it in a 1950’s Spanish speaking hospital. Letting my demanding self roar. And the evident power and passion that Mary and I embody.
8. Life. Somewhere in my mind, I am aware that there will be a big wiggle jiggle to my little homestead in the next couple of weeks. My live-in nanny who has been my co-parent for 15 months is significantly reducing her hours. I am in temporary housing with no real plan for where to move next. Mary will return to the U.S on August 22nd, and I feel utterly calm in the face of all of the uncertainty. It is one part the super dose of oxytocin that the breastfeeding high releases, one part feeling so skinny and light after shedding the first 20 pounds of baby weight, and one big part of presence. I am just here, in my nursing chair with a frozen condom between my legs, listening to Zadie breathe in her mummy wrap before I go spoon this woman who fell from the sky to become my partner.
Belonging Matters 
This was lovely!