A Day in the Life of New Mom with a Book Due in a Month

WE ARE IN THE THICK OF IT PEOPLE

Sep 04, 2024

Pregnancy was red, yellow was two month post-partum, I am currently in green!!!

Check out my first post here to read more about the namesake of this newsletter and make a copy of the input/output tracking sheet if you so desire.

I’m still (nominally) on leave

Referral sheet: Check it out here.

I listed two new online classes! For November: Write Like an Athlete and December: Comedy Writing for Non-Comedians.

And here are two from my co-author Elissa:

Be Hysterical: A Voice-Finding Seminar: Uncover your unique comedic voice and get hysterically honest on the page. Sunday, October 13th, 2024, online.

Short Humor & Satire Writing: Are you looking for ways to make friends as an adult and also write humor and satire? In this 2-day workshop intensive, we’ll break down the short comedy piece to write, rewrite, and publish our own. After two days, everyone will write/be funnier and will know how to conceive of, draft, polish, and submit short original humor and satire. BYOB. October 19th & 20th (Saturday & Sunday, online)

*NOTE: I do not need parenting advice and please remember I am a comedy writer, so sometimes I am portraying things comedically and you do not need to call Child Protective Services on me, thank you!!)

A Day in the Life of a New Mom with a Book Due in a Month

6:58am: My eyes open but my eye mask is on so I enjoy two extra minutes of darkness, untethered from time and space. This is the first week my husband is back to work following his three-month parental leave (he works for a European company that believes employees have lives? Huge if true!). It’s also one month and three days before the first draft of our comedy craft book, INSIDE JOKES, is due. The baby was born three weeks early at the end of May, demonstrating utter disregard for my carefully made work schedule, so I’m behind. I’m sure it will be the last time his schedule messes with mine :)

7:00am: My husband’s alarm goes off. I do not want to trigger anyone, but the baby has been consistently sleeping straight from 9pm to 8 or 8:30am for…weeks now. As a long-time insomniac, I am actually sleeping much, much better with a newborn than I have in years, which several people in r/insomnia have also experienced. Conceiving and birthing a child to get a respite from your sleep problems is certainly a risky strategy, but it’s worked for me! (and yes, I know about the 4 month sleep regresson around the corner, doesn’t change the fact I’m sleeping now!)

7:10am: I get up and retrieve my nemesis—the breast pump. The baby has been diagnosed by several medical professionals as “lazy” and refuses to eat from the source because it’s harder than slamming a giant bottle (yes, he has been evaluated for tongue ties, he’s just lazy! We have to respect it.). Each day I pump five times for 20-30 minutes while my husband walks the dog. Today, I treat myself to 35 minutes because the gazongas are very engorged.

Pumping is extremely overstimulating, so I need to distract myself. I review Elissa’s late night edits on several sections. This is Type-A caffeine, resolving google doc comments left at 11pm at 7:30am. We’re working almost opposite schedules, handing the book back and forth across day and night.

7:50-8:00am: Finish pumping. Sit depleted, staring blankly at the wall for ten minutes for a little “me” time. Remember I need fluids and drink the glass of water on my nighttable. Start writing this timeline. Check the baby monitor to ensure he’s still asleep. He is! Finish my google doc comments with glee.

8:10am: Clock in for my shift at the Department of Milk Management. Combine frozen milk with fresh milk; make bottles for the day; freeze extra milk from the first pump. I’m an oversupplier so I produce double what he eats each day. This is good in theory, since I can freeze the extra to stop pumping earlier. But in practice, I live in a rental apartment and freezer space is limited so I can only squeeze about two months in there. I vacillate between feeling totally fine and workmanlike about pumping and experiencing extreme, gripping claustrophobia and a spiraling sense of being trapped in my own body. Let’s see which one prevails today!

8:15am: wash and sterilize all the pump parts and bottles. I do his pacifiers too since I dropped every single one yesterday and they are adorned with husky hair.

8:20:am: Caffenation. I haven’t looked up how much caffeine you should drink while breastfeeding and it’s really none of my business. Drink an entire can of cold brew. Then a huge glass of orange juice. Then 20 more ounces of water with an electrolyte tab. Finally feel rehydrated from the first pump.

8:30am: The baby wakes his little ass up!! He puts in his first shift, but he works at the Smile Factory—and wow he’s working overtime today. My husband gives the baby his first bottle before he goes to the office (my husband, the baby works from home). I wash my face and force my contacts in, finally becoming a person.

Pumping makes me hungry beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, including training as a long-distance swimmer for over ten years. I make first breakfast, three eggs over easy on cornbread with tomatoes and tajin seasoning. We discovered tajin from an Instagram acccount called sandwiches of history. The man (Barry) constantly talks about how to “plus up” sandwiches with condiments. Tajin and cowboy candy, aka pickled japalenoes, have been gamechangers in this household. Thank you for your service, Barry!

While I eat (shovel), I answer my text messages which go back five days or so. Once I hit a critical mass of notifications I just ignore them until I can answer in a batch. Responses start coming in and I quickly become overwhelmed and turn off notifications for another five days.

9:00am: Elissa and I communicate about the book each day via voice memos, each of us working out various thoughts and solutions verbally. We save our larger issues for weekly video meetings (we only live a mile apart, but this works for us). I listen to the ones she left me after 6pm the day before, the time my brain shuts down for the day. She’s figured out an issue with organization in one chapter. It’s elegant and perfect, and it feels like we’re starting the day with momentum.

9:30am: My husband showers and leaves for the office, and I take over the baby. He does some tummy time and I do it too, channeling this classic Reductress piece:

We sing songs about how big his butt is. I have made a grievous error of not developing a new character for the baby, and I do “his voice” in the same tone and intonation I previously used for my husky mix, Zander. So both of my sons engage with me as I sing, both believing I’m speaking directly to them.

Baby starts yawning. He’s been up for almost two hours and it’s time for a nap. I feel you, brother!!

11:00am: After delighful 40 minute cuddle on the couch, him in his sleep sack, me in my pajamas still, the baby goes to sleep. I very carefully transfer him to the crib, wait a few moments to see if his eyes pop open, and ladies and gentleman—we have a successful transfer!

I tiptoe out of the room and then literally run, because this nap could be anywhere from 45 minutes to three hours and I need to make the most of it. This is where the bulk of my work on the book will happen.

11:10am: Second pump. I eat my now classic breastfeeding snack, a travel-size container of Jif smooth peanut butter. It has to be Jif—it needs to have sugar in it so I don’t crash. I eat it the way the Lord intended by ripping off the seal and sticking my face directly into the container while the dog watches me with dismay. I start to feel bad so when there’s about 10% left I give the rest to the dog. He finishes eating it in exactly the same manner, snout in container. I feel safe in this non-judmental space as I write a set of interview questions for the book.

11:40am: Baby still asleep. We’re in an apartment and I keep his bedroom door open, so I’ll hear if he wakes up. Otherwise, I practice Schrödinger's monitor—if I don’t check the monitor, he could be both asleep and awake.

I put on maternity shorts and a sports bra and jump on the treadmill to walk on an incline. We “bought”the treadmill during the Omicron wave of Covid and for some reason Peloton has let us have it interest-free for four years. Perhaps one of the causes of their recent financial woes? I should not be able to have a treadmill in my apartment for $60/month.

I warm up and walk for 30 minutes as part of my physical therapy, then do a series of hip, glute, and ab strengthening exercises. I ended up having a c-section and my ab strength, already quite poor, has deteriorated even more. My PT is non-negotiable each day so I’m strong enough to get the baby, stroller, and 60-pound dog up and down three flights of stairs for our afternoon walk.

12:20pm: Covering most of my eyes, I peek at the monitor. Still asleep, so I hop in the shower (3 minutes), eat leftover tacos (3 minutes), and begin to draft a short section of the book. Until my childcare begins, I’m not even attempting deep work—I have a punch list of short action items that I can check off in hour-long increments. I’m very grateful I made this list prior to going on leave!

Write a section on heightening, check the monitor. Write a section on taste, check the monitor. Write some interview questions, check the monitor.

2:00pm: As much as I want to keep working, at this point I have to wake the baby up so I don’t ruin our lives this evening. And guess what—I want to be with him! I admit it! Crack his shades, put on his morning song, and wrestle him into his excellent whale onesie. He’s revived from his nap and works another shift at the Smile Factory. He slams a bottle while the dog stares at us and hits me repeatedly with his paw, expressing the need to void his bowels. Now THIS is deadline pressure.

2:15pm: Activate my core and glutes and we all make it down the front stairs without dying. A woman on the sidewalk leaps up and grabs the front of the loaded stroller to help me down. I try not to be embarassed about the fact I am so visibly struggling that strangers don’t even ask before helping, and profusely thank her.

We take a walk in the park. The baby gets a 10/10—stimulated, cooing, takes a little doze in the fresh air. The dog gets a 4/10—stalks a pigeon posse and almost knocks the stroller over when he lunges, seems completely unaware of where the stroller is in space and repeatedly walks into it, poops three times and I only have two bags. Again, a stranger comes to my rescue with a third bag. We sit on a bench for a bit and I record a few voice memos to Elissa about the things I’m working on while I gather myself for the trip back up the stairs. Elissa texts me that she would get arrested if she ever tried to walk a dog and baby together and I have a big laugh.

2:55pm: Make it back home and get everyone back in the apartment. I am dripping with sweat and my ab muscles are shaking uncontrollably, but we did it!

3:00pm: My agent texts me that the contract for the book, again, due in ONE MONTH, is finally ready to sign. We sold it back in November and have been working on it ever since. I continue to be baffled at how publishing works—no other industry I’ve ever been in would allow ten months to pass between a verbal deal and a signed contract, all while work is being done.

I start reviewing and playing with the baby at the same time, and then I realize from the pain in my chest that it’s time for pump #3. I hook up and continue reading and playing with the baby, though I show him this image to explain why he needs to chill:

I really need to source and buy this t-shirt, it explains my emotional state more clearly than words ever could

As he cannot yet read, he does not “hold on” and I abandon the contract to spend uninterupted time with him. We giggle and make noises and then he starts yawning and cuddling with me, so I know he’s now Nap Eligible.

5:00pm: Keep reviewing the contract while he rests on me, both our eyes getting heavy. Text with my agent and Elissa about a few of the deal points. Elissa and I are also debriefing the movie Dante’s Peak which she watched off my recommendation, so we alternate between discussing deal points and discussing plot points such as someone’s grandmother getting their legs burned off in an acid lake. You may not like it, but this it the ideal form of multitasking.

The baby falls asleep on me as I’m reading legalese. This is the moment of the day when I’m truly a woman in the first ten minutes of a movie who believes can have it all, before the inciting incident (usually her getting fired) makes it clear SHE CANNOT.

Around this time I should start dinner, but I subscribe to the parenting adage “cook when the baby cooks” and he’s never made me a meal so I don’t make one either.

6:30pm: My husband comes home, baby gets HAPPY and smiles a lot and then that makes him MAD and he starts fussing, My husband takes him to the living room and I finish reviewing the contract and sign it. TEN MONTHS LATER THIS ACTION ITEM IS ACCOMPLISHED! Time to celebrate with pump #4 of the day.

7:00pm: for some reason, the second to last pump of the day is the one that really gets me. I’m both overstimulated and exhausted. I can’t work, write, send emails—all I can do is watch a YouTube video of a person getting a massage to calm my monkey brain. When I finish, I feel like this:

would honestly love for my hair to be this color

7:30pm: I HUNGER. Producing breastmilk supposedly burns about 20 calories per ounce, so at my current output I’m burning over 800 calories a day, plus walking with the baby, plus physical therapy and cardio exericses. My husband makes pork chops for dinner and I eat them with my hands, ignoring the knife he provided for me. The baby hangs out with us in a little throne we’ve made on the couch. It’s also where he watched all the Olympics. He loved swimming, track, and thought Colin Jost did an abysmal job as the surfing host.

8:30pm: Baby bath time! He gets clean, then wrapped in a cozy sleeper onesie. My husband puts him to bed while I watch another two episodes of “America’s Sweethearts: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.” The show both offends my feminist sensibilites and at the same time, I want these sweet, hardworking girls to have whatever they desire. It’s a confusing mix of emotions. The thinking muscles are officialy switched off.

10:30pm: Last pump of the day. I use a lactation massager because I feel like I might have a clogged milk duct. I start watching a YouTube video on art restoration, thinking smugly that I’m handling this pump well because I don’t feel overstimulated in the slightest. After five minutes realize I never turned the pump on. Disassociate.

11:00pm: Pump done, milk stored, I see I have five voice memos from Elissa but that is tomorow’s work. Read a few reddit threads on baby sleep, update this log, and put the eye mask back on to return to the darkness from whence I came.

Ed notes: I wrote this diary by vocie dictating to text into an app called Captio, which emails notes to you. I pasted them in, did a small edit, and sent it off.

Lest you worry I am going to attempt to finish the book in such a piecemeal manner, this week my childcare started. I’m very glad I had a week of solo parenting and book work so now I can happily pay a good rate to an experienced professional to help me!

Input/Output

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