Posted in Body & Being

The Postpartum Tradition I Want to Try

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I genuinely can’t remember if I’ve already talked about this, so if I have, congratulations: you’re getting the SomePunnyBunny repost nobody asked for.

I’ve been looking into the 40-day postpartum recovery tradition, sometimes calledĀ la cuarentena. The basic idea isĀ rest, warmth, nourishment, and community—Mom stays home, avoids strenuous activity, eats nourishing foods, and if possible lets family take care of the cooking and cleaning while she focuses on recovering and bonding with the baby.

The more I learn about it, the more I think, honestly… I kind of want that.

The first time I heard about it, I honestly didn’t really understand it. My parents had mentioned it but my mom only got to stay home a month postpartum. And aside from my parents, nobody I know has really done this, so I started looking into it.

And honestly? I kind of want to try it.

Now, before anyone thinks I’m planning to survive exclusively on chicken soup and chamomile tea for 40 days, no. I will absolutely be eating other food. I just want to make a conscious effort to eat a lot of warm, nourishing food during those first few weeks.

Which actually works out pretty well considering this baby is supposed to show up at the end of September.

I know some of the reasoning behind these traditions isn’t necessarily backed by modern scientific evidence. My friends have reminded me that eating soup and drinking tea isn’t some medically proven postpartum recovery plan.

And they might be right.

But I also don’t really see the harm in trying something that feels comforting, nourishing, and culturally meaningful to me.

And if eating soup and drinking tea works well enough when I’m sick why won’t it work post pregnancy?Ā 

You have to think about what your body just went through. Pregnancy requires a ridiculous amount of nutrients and energy, and then you give birth and suddenly your body is recovering while also trying to figure out hormones, healing, sleep deprivation, and potentially producing breast milk.

I like the idea of giving my body warm, homemade, nutrient-dense food while it’s doing all of that.

And when I say soup, I don’t mean opening a can of chicken noodle soup and calling it a day.

I meanĀ homemade postpartum soup.

A lot of the postpartum food traditions I’ve been reading about recommend things likeĀ caldo de polloĀ (chicken soup),Ā caldo de resĀ (beef soup), atole, oatmeal, herbal teas like chamomile, and generally avoiding really greasy or heavy foods.

And honestly, some of that sounds pretty good to me.

I also keep seeing people talk about focusing on protein and nutrient-dense foods postpartum, which makes sense to me. I’m not expecting a magical soup or a lactation cookie to suddenly fix everything. I just want to eat food that actually gives my body something useful.

My friend has very kindly offered to help make food for me, which I appreciate SO much. Unfortunately, she is not really a soup person.

So now I have to figure out what exactly to ask her to make because I do not want to be ungrateful, and I will happily accept basically any help I can get.

But I’m also planning on batch-making a bunch of soup and freezing it as soon as I get to California.

Because I want to try this.

Maybe I’ll make it the full 40 days.

Maybe I’ll make it 30.

Maybe I’ll make it 20 and decide I am absolutely sick of soup and need a cheeseburger.

I don’t know.

But I want to give myself the opportunity to try.

And I know other people have had babies without doing any of this. I know some people are going to read this and think it sounds silly. Maybe it is. Maybe some of these traditions really are just old wives’ tales.

But I don’t think everything has to be scientifically proven before I’m allowed to try it.

If something makes me feel cared for, helps me prioritize nutrition, gives me something comforting to look forward to, and doesn’t hurt me, why not?

This is also where I’m realizing that I’m going to have to start getting comfortable telling peopleĀ no.

Because everyone is going to have an opinion.

My friends have opinions. My family has opinions. People online have opinions. People who have had five kids are going to tell me what worked for them. Lactation people are going to tell me what worked for them. Random women at the grocery store will probably have opinions.

And I can listen to all of it.

But listening doesn’t mean I have to do it.

This is my first pregnancy. I’m figuring things out as I go. I’m going to research things, listen to people I trust, talk to my doctors, and then make my own decisions.

Maybe some things I try will work.

Maybe some things won’t.

Maybe I’ll get three days into my beautiful postpartum soup tradition and order Taco Bell.

Honestly, anything is possible.

But I do want to give myself permission to do this my way.

Because if I don’t start learning how to set those boundaries now, I’m going to have a very hard time raising my kid the way I want to raise them.

Posted in Lifestyle

Help, My Dogs Are Growing Up

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I blinked. That’s it. I blinked—and suddenly I’m the mom of two teenage puppies who woke up and chose ✨puberty✨. I have a boy and a girl, brother and sister, besties since birth: Garrus Vakarian (handsome, clueless, thinks he’s a hero) and Qi’ra (tiny queen, main character energy). They’re not even a year old yet, and somehow I’ve gone from ā€œlook at my sweet babiesā€ to ā€œWHY IS MY DAUGHTER BLEEDING AND WHY IS MY SON LIKE THIS.ā€

Yes. Qi’ra has started her doggy period. I am freaking out. This is my first female dog, my first not-already-fixed dog, and my first time realizing that nature does not care that I am emotionally unprepared. Meanwhile Garrus—who has exactly one brain cell and it is doing parkour—has decided now is the perfect time to attempt mounting his own sister. Sir. Absolutely not. I am too young to be a doggy grandmother. I found these puppies on the street. I signed up to be a rescue mom, not to speedrun the circle of life.

The real kicker? These two have the WORST separation attachment I have ever witnessed. They are Velcro dogs. They share oxygen. They need constant visual confirmation that the other one still exists. If one goes behind a door, the other files a missing dog report immediately. And now, for safety reasons, I have to keep them apart—which feels like emotional warfare for everyone involved. Add in the fun little anxiety sprinkle that unspayed female dogs can be at risk for pyometra (a scary uterine infection), and suddenly I’m deep in vet articles learning about heat cycles, timelines, and how spaying is recommended—but not immediately, usually 8–12 weeks after the heat ends. Cool cool cool. Love that for me. I did not expect to be this knowledgeable about dog reproductive health in my current era, but here we are. Learning. Growing. Stress-Googling at 2 a.m.

All of this has taught me exactly one thing: I am learning SO much about being a dog mom, and I am deeply, profoundly grateful that I got dogs before kids. Because if this were human children? I would not survive. These puppies are already teaching me patience, responsibility, boundaries, and how to stay calm while everything in my house is screaming or bleeding or trying to climb something it absolutely should not. They are good dogs. Chaos dogs. Street-found, untrained, hormonally unhinged dogs. But good. And every day I feel lucky that I found them, even if they’re currently putting me through my parenting origin story.

Also, side note: if you can guess what I named them after, congratulations—you are my people. I know I’ve said it before, but people forget, and I love that their names are just nerdy enough to make me smile every time I yell them across the room while breaking up yet another forbidden family reunion. Anyway. Please wish me luck, send strength, snacks, and positive thoughts, and remind Garrus Vakarian that heroes respect boundaries.🐾✨