This is the second installment of 100 Days of Post-Partum: A Daily Maedup (매듭). Each day, I tie a traditional Korean knot and write a short reflection beginning with “Today I want to remember…” If you’re new here, start with the introduction. You can also read Days 0–9: Arrival.
The second ten days. First outings, first milestones, first moments of feeling like myself again. But also the first real waves of doubt, jealousy and quiet grief. These knots move through yellow, pink, earth tones, blue and purple. They hold the mess and the tenderness of learning to be a mother while the world keeps turning around you.
Day 10. Sparkly Night
Today I want to remember our first night out as parents. The borrowed clothes, the sparkly lights, the full moon over the Han, the snow under our feet and the easy laughter with Josh’s friends. I want to hold onto that feeling of being myself again, even for a few hours, while also noticing the quiet ache of missing Jimin and realising that part of me now always stays with him, wherever I go.
Duck yellow for the joy and warmth of our first night out as parents, the twinkle lights and full moon over the Han, with a quiet thread of Jimin still running through it all.
Day 11. Tiny Stretches
Today I want to remember the way you stretch your tiny limbs when you wake up, as your swaddle comes off. Your little arms shooting up. Your resting pose, one hand on your head, just as you were in the womb at every ultrasound. The way your legs move: bent, straight, cycling. The way you squeal. The newborn sneezes. The way you smell. The softness of your hair and skin. The way you smile at Josh, and the way you look straight into my eyes.
Soft pale pink for tenderness, skin-to-skin closeness, and these small everyday moments of learning his tiny body by heart.
Day 12. Solo Poop Mission
Today I want to remember my first hours truly alone with you. And my first solo diaper change: the quiet house, the long wet fart mid-feed, the giant ochre poop, and the way you smiled and locked eyes with me right after, like we were in on a private joke. I want to remember feeling oddly triumphant as I got you cleaned up without getting anything on myself, and how you then went straight back to feeding as if nothing had happened, while I was still laughing about the whole thing.
Earthy, smoky cord for the very real, messy side of motherhood, and for the small, funny triumph of my first solo poop mission.
Day 13. Happy Birthday
Today I want to remember the highlights of my birthday, even though a quiet melancholy wrapped around the evening. Jimin’s first outing. His impossibly adorable passport photo. The photobooth strips of Josh, me and Jimin to mark the day. And then just Josh and me: a romantic Italian lunch, tiramisu for two and coffee to finish, before heading back to life as new parents.
Honey Bird Blue, bright for my birthday, Jimin’s first outing and his tiny passport photo. Still blue for the underlying tiredness and melancholy. Gold accents to mark the special day.
Day 14. Embassy Blowouts
Today I want to remember the day we took Jimin to the US Embassy and somehow handled it all. The first car seat, the first pram outing, the backseat nappy changes after he peed through his clothes on the way there and pooped through them on the way back. I want to remember feeling absurdly proud that everything stayed clean, that we kept him fed, changed, soothed and mostly content, and that we even squeezed in a late lunch and coffee at the fancy Starbucks Reserve. Tired, happy and relieved, I could feel this quiet certainty settling in: we can do this. We’ll make good parents.
Orange and yellow for the high-energy embassy day, the pee and poop drama, and the warm, proud feeling of realising we can handle this together.
Day 15. Held in My Arms
Today I want to remember just holding you in my arms. Your tiny, warm body. Your newborn smell. The way you stare up at my face. The soft swirl of your hair, and how it still sticks out at the back. The way you grip my fingers and pull down. The way your legs move, the way you lift your head. These small movements getting bigger day by day, the little changes as you grow and fill out. You make my heart swell. You are my perfect little boy.
Soft purple for softness, closeness and the quiet love of simply holding you in my arms.
Day 16. Needed
Today I want to remember the way you finally settled in my arms after crying for what felt like hours, even with so many loving, experienced hands trying to soothe you. How you softened against my chest, as if you knew exactly who I was, as if those 40 weeks of closeness were still mapped inside your body. You fell asleep on me and then slept peacefully in your cot for hours. Jimin needs me. I am not replaceable. I am needed. I am his mum.
Warm tones for the love and reassurance of being needed, and grounded for the heavy feelings that sat underneath it.
Day 17. Thankful
Today I want to remember how thankful I am for this path we chose: to recover at home, held by family and by small freedoms, instead of feeling confined in a place that might have tipped me into depression. I was more afraid of my mind breaking than of my body healing, and I’m grateful that, for now, I feel steady. Tired and sore, yes, but not trapped. I have support, space, fresh air, views of the lake, time with Josh and Jimin, and a sense that my joy is real. I want to remember this feeling of being cared for and carried, and the quiet relief that I haven’t disappeared into the darkness I was so afraid of.
Green for grounding, healing and the steady support around me as I recover at home, held and not trapped.
Day 18. Still My Milk
Today I want to remember this quiet, complicated sense of loss that comes from you preferring the bottle over my breast. How each failed latch feels a little like rejection. But I know the bottle makes things easier for you, lets others feed you, and gives me space to rest and recover. I want to remember how my heart swells when you do latch for a while, and how it deflates when you fuss and we switch back to the bottle. Even so, you are still drinking my milk, still being sustained by me. Both things are true at once: this is the right choice for us, and it still makes me sad.
Soft pink for the tenderness, quiet sadness and gratitude all wrapped up together as we navigate bottle feeds, lost latches and the simple fact that you are still sustained by my milk. Light grey for the feelings of sadness and loss.
Day 19. Wrapped Against My Heart
Today I want to remember carrying you against my chest in the baby wrap for the first time. How you settled there, looking up into my eyes, then around at the world, ever curious. You calmed and fell asleep, feeling my warmth, hearing my heartbeat, smelling my skin. I also want to remember these quiet Sunday mornings with just the two of us at home, no one else around; this small pocket of alone time with you feels special and necessary for this introvert heart of mine.
Doric Blue for the calm, open feeling of quiet Sunday mornings and the soft closeness of carrying you against my chest.
These ten days held our first nights out, first outings with Jimin, and first solo moments as his mum. They also held the first real waves of doubt and sadness. The knots move through yellow and pink into earth tones and blues, and the reflections feel more present as the newness wears off and the real shape of motherhood begins to show. The next ten will carry us deeper into December, toward Christmas and toward his one-month mark.
Continue to Days 20–29 → [coming soon]
This is part of 100 Days of Post-Partum: A Daily Maedup (매듭). Follow the daily knots on Instagram @maltiblee or facebook
