Today marks nine months of Madelyn! Starting tomorrow, she will have been out and in our lives longer than in and part of our dreams. Those nine months of pregnancy were (mostly) magical, but these nine months of babyhood have been extremely eye opening and adventurous!

Good morning, America!

I was looking at old videos from the pregnancy before Maddie was born and I stumbled across a very nervous Alison at an ungodly early hour before taking off for the hospital. I listen to this Alison and this Bryan and I barely know them. Ah, how young and ignorant they are! They think they’re going to a hospital to entice a baby to slide out and then go back home 48 hours later and enjoy the pristine nursery in all its pre-Madelyn glory. I find myself laughing at those two people and yelling at the computer: Oh, you guys! You’re going to wait like ALL day for a baby to come and then she won’t and then there’s going to be a dramatic surgery and then you’re not coming home for FOUR days and then when you do, Alison will be worthless while she recovers from an infection and Bryan will have to do ALL the work and by the way, the nursery will never stay clean because when she’s nine months old, Madelyn will crawl everywhere and untidy up all the decor like the dolls and pillows and books by pulling them down so they’re strewn across the carpet and you’ll never have time to clean up after her because you’re too busy running after her. OH YOU GUYS!

That’s what I would say to those two strangers.

So, there we have it. Nine months have gone by and we have a kid who, according to her check up today, weighs 17 pounds and ten ounces, is 28 inches long, and has a head that’s 17.3 inches around. She got a shot (boo!) and was cleared to start drinking less expensive normal formula (yay!). The doc was super impressed with all of her tricks and she’s on target, if not early, with all of her developmental milestones! Proud parents! Swoon!

This month, Madelyn…

• Has made it her goal to stand up on anything. That means things that don’t allow for standing on. Like, you know, my face. She pulls herself up on everything she can see: walls, furniture, toys, human bodies. She’s a standing exhibitionist. She does it one-handed too and confidence is really kicking in because she’s starting to experiment with “look ma! No hands!” but is followed with a quick tumble that doesn’t even faze her. We are now greeted by a stander in her crib every morning. She’s just so funny! What can I say? My Madelyn is a “stand” up comedian. Nyuk nyuk nyuk.
• Took her first vacation that required a plane. More on that later, but her first plane trip was not that great. Let’s just say, she failed at earning her young wings, but I don’t really blame her and she made up for her on the return home. Still, she’s a lucky almost 9-month-old to have spent a week in Hawaii! A full recap will OF COURSE make it onto BornFriedman soon! Lots of pictures to sort through.
• Began babbling like crazy! She makes so many cute sounds. I just love her little voice and never get tired of listening to what she has to say! She can put together consonants and vowels and make up words in her own little language. She has said “da da” and “ma ma” but I’m betting that they are not associated with her Mama and Dada and are just easy sounds to make. But, this is the fun part — listening to her develop speech and communication skills and my inner geek is fascinated by the whole evolution!
• Learned to make fart sounds and speak Click. It’s silly, but the reason why this is cool is because it’s showing me we can exchange our own dialogue. If she makes the fart sound, which is really more like a raspberry, and then I do it, she’ll do it back and we take turns. The same goes for the click sound she makes with her tongue smacking her gums. If I do it, she’ll do it back and vice versa. And, let’s face it, yes, the monkey-see-monkey-do act is brilliant of her, but really, who doesn’t like it when a baby makes fart sounds? It’s hysterical.
• Started the beginnings of waving hello and goodbye. She reaches out to whoever is coming or going and is trying to figure out the whole hand part of the wave. I think her fine motor skills are developing in that area, but it’s cool that she gets the motion and the appropriate time to do it. Looks like she already had her eye on the Miss America crown and is practicing that wave!
• Recognizes Princeton! This may just be my new favorite trick in her book. Obviously, since Princeton is my first-born, he is very, very special to our family. The fact that Madelyn now knows who he is and enjoys his presence is my latest gush. We can say, “Madelyn! Where’s Princeton?” and she’ll either get really excited and flap her arms at the sound of his name or crawl toward him and attempt to touch him. It’s really cute and exactly what a proud parent would want! I think it’s the start of them becoming the best of friends! Princeton, like most dogs, likes his privacy and alone time and finds places to hide out and den all throughout the house. One of his favorite denning spots is under Madelyn’s crib; he can still see out, but he’s protected by the frame. Madelyn’s never cared about him being under there until just today! As she was crawling around her room, she caught Princeton’s eye that was at her level under the crib and she crawled toward him and touched his foot. They definitely had a special sibling moment and I melted.

As always, our greatest joy is watching Madelyn grow and explore. She’s working so hard and practicing all her new skills. She’s on her way to a perfect 10… months. Happy nine months, love bug!

I’ve been a dad for exactly two months now, and thanks to my amazingly talented writer of a wife, you know that so much has already happened. In just these two short months I’ve learned so much. Yes, I’ve learned a lot about babies and parenting and diapers and bottles, but I’ve learned a lot about myself too.

Becoming a dad fulfills a dream for me and so far it truly has been an amazing experience. Although we’ve had a bit of a tumultuous ride if you look at things from a certain angle, I think that having a child seriously makes you put things into perspective and view everything that happens in a bit of a different light. It’s funny — I’ve hardly stayed angry or felt negative about much of anything for more than a few minutes. One look at Madelyn’s face, even if she’s crying, makes me wonder what there really is to be upset about.

It all sounds cliche and perhaps a bit too rosy, but for me, so far, it’s true. What I’ve loved about being a dad so far are all the moments I get to observe and the family time I get to enjoy. Here are the things I’ve grown to love in my early tenure as a father…

Watching Alison Be A Mom
One of the things I was excited about throughout the whole pregnancy was the chance to see my wife become a mother. Watching the woman I love transform into the mother she has become has not disappointed. To see her in action truly inspires me. It’s really amazing to watch those mom instincts kick in as she tackles a diaper rash, picks out an outfit or rushes to feed the baby. When I walk in on her holding Madelyn, rocking or bouncing with her and singing songs to her…well, I pretty much just completely melt. If it’s possible to “fall in love with someone all over again,” I think I probably have fallen in love with Alison again about ten times in the past month alone. Plus, I don’t care what she says, she’s never been sexier to me than she is now. (Okay, maybe on our wedding night…)

Taking Care Of My Family
For the first few weeks of our parenthood, during Alison’s rough recovery and the tough nights taking care of both her and the baby, I sort of had to go on autopilot. I was doing so much during that time that when I look back at it, I am seriously not even sure how I was able to do it. I guess it was my own dad instincts that helped me get through it. (Well, that, and also some seriously super grandparents!) Anyway, I’m happy to have gone through that experience because it helped me become a calm and confident parent. Now that I’m back at work and Alison and I are both running at full capacity, it’s such an enjoyable experience…even when it gets crazy and insane. Alison and I have always made a great marriage team but now to share in parenting duties as a team, I can honestly say I’d put us up against any other parents any day of the week. 😉 It’s fun when we just get into that mode where we barely have to talk to each other but we are reading each other’s minds and we orchestrate a diaper change or a feeding together. I think we may be more efficient at getting out of the house with Madelyn now than we ever were at getting out of the house just the two of us. It is really some kind of awesome.

Photo by Sara Marie Photography

Coming Home From Work
After three weeks of being home just after the birth, I finally had to go back to work. I had originally planned for three weeks just because I was lucky enough to be able to take that much, but it turned out I really needed all of that time. I was not too happy about going back, but luckily we had fallen into something of a routine so I felt okay leaving Alison at home…it was just that I didn’t want to miss anything! So of course, there is nothing like walking in the door around 6pm to discover what state things are in. Sometimes Princeton runs to me to greet me and I come in to see a calm household with Alison quietly enjoying Madelyn. Other times Princeton runs to me for help as if to say, “Make the chaos stop please,” and I hear the screaming upstairs where I find Alison wrangling with a tough diaper change or some squirmy tummy time. Either way it’s a lovely surprise for me — I join the peace or help calm the crazy.

Taking Pictures
You already know I feel it’s my duty to document this kid’s life story. She changes so much every day and every moment is so fleeting it seems impossible to keep up. This commercial practically made me cry when I first saw it on television for exactly that reason. I just feel like I can never get quite the right picture like I want. I wish I could capture more moments and make every picture better. Still, I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.

Sharing Experiences
Getting to share all these new parenting and baby experiences with Alison is of course a huge thrill. But it’s even more fun to watch so many of our close friends go through the same experiences at almost exactly the same time. We have at least a dozen friends that are experiencing the first few months of either their first or second baby, and it’s so fun to “network” with them…people we’ve known for what seems like forever, and we are now all having kids. It’s so crazy.

Spending Time With Madelyn
It’s pretty neat how quickly you get to know your child. Within a few weeks we already figured out what Madelyn liked and what would help her sleep. (Of course, we had a little help from Dr. Karp.) Even when I’m annoyed at 4am when she starts to wimper as if to say “Okay guys, I’m hungry now,” or when I’m just about dressed with hands washed and sooooooo tired at 4:05am when she is wailing like “Why the *$&^*% aren’t you guys feeding me already?,” once I get in the room and pick her up, I just don’t really care what time it is anymore. Then there’re those evenings when I sit by her crib and soothe her to sleep…I feel so victorious when I get her to finally fall! So rewarding! And of course those mornings, right after feeding her, when I bring her in to hang out with the whole family and she coos and stares at the ceiling fan after Princeton tries to lick her and give her even more love than we do. I mean these are the moments. I love it.

Today is Yom Kippur. This Jewish holiday marks the beginning of a clean slate for the new year. On Yom Kippur, we are supposed to right our wrongs and forgive those who have let us down. I’m not sure I’ll be able to wholly forgive and forget my rocky start to my postpartum experience, but as my physical wound heals, so must my emotional wound. It’s time I concentrate on what matters now instead of dwelling on the past.

Some women have difficult pregnancies. Some women have bumpy labors. I’m a woman who had green lights on the whole baby mama highway, but after Madelyn was born, I crashed into a rail, tumbled over a cliff, and rolled into a murky water. It’s been a very difficult ride for me due to the infection I got in the hospital that was dismissed and negated by the on-call physician, Dr. Shlub. For weeks, I couldn’t hold my daughter due to the pain at my fresh incision and I missed out on crucial bonding time. I know Madelyn was in great hands while I was absent and healing, and she will never know of any suffering, but I know I was cheated out of my experience. That hurts more than my open wound.

I’m not breastfeeding. This is a tough subject for me because I always planned on nursing my baby. I was breastfed and I’ve always heard my mom tell me what an awesome experience it was. I was so looking forward to developing that similar relationship with Madelyn. We had our rough moments starting out as most mothers and new babies do, but we finally got our groove on! It was fabulous. We were flowing and she was filling. Chug chug chug and then, bam! Infection and pain up the wazoo. No nursing position was comfortable. I was awake every two to three hours to feed while I was trying to heal. My energy was at a zero and my motivation went kaput. I didn’t want to quit and really had no intentions to, but my doctor told me that healing should be my first priority and if I was in pain or feeling stress from my incision infection while nursing, it wasn’t healthy for either of us. She gave me permission to stop, and after a lot of deliberation, I did. I needed to become healthy because I was no good to Madelyn if I wasn’t.

With every drop of leaked milk on its way out of me, I cried. And cried and cried. I knew breast milk was the best milk for my daughter — at least that’s what I’d always heard — and doesn’t every mom want the best for her children? Some women choose not to breastfeed and I support that just as much as I support those who do. I’m not a lactivist. I was just a mom looking for a unique experience and to provide the best I could for Madelyn. At this point, the best thing for Madelyn was a healthy mom and food any way she could get it. The pediatrician recommended a formula and that hungry little baby gulped it down. She never knew the difference and she was a happy camper. She continued to gain weight and was thriving just fine. Of course, that’s all I cared and still care about. Grow, little Madelyn, grow!

But I mourned. I still do. I looked in the mirror at myself and would think, “I failed me.” My blood boils and my ears resemble an angry, steaming Donald Duck when I think about what could have been. Sure, I might have been exhausted and annoyed about nursing around the clock or submitting myself to the “whoosh whoosh” of the boob juicer, but I never expected it to be a breeze or any sort of convenience. Instead, as I get my six hours of sleep and whip out a bottle of shaken-not-stirred, cow’s milk goodness in a public place, I rejoice in the ease of feeding, but I sulk in the absence of providing. Yes, I know, I’m still providing. Our hard-earned dollars are providing cans of powder via Diapers.com and Babies R Us, but it was ME who wanted to provide. ME. Not my credit card.

And then there’s the guilt. I did nothing wrong, so why do I feel guilt? Why does breastfeeding have to carry such a heavy stigma of guilt or shame when it’s not practiced? And don’t get me started on the jealousy! I see babies attached to their mothers, and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Not a hard violent kick. Just a breathlessness of sorts and then my stomach turns and aches. It’s beautiful and I’m thrilled for their relationship — really, I am! — but I still wish I had that, too. All I have to do, though, is look over at my happy baby and it’s fine. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine! Deep breaths. Leveled.

I went on Celexa. I’m still taking it. Dr. Fiiiine thought it would be the best thing for me and I agree. I’m not ashamed of it and that shit works (no, the sales rep did not take me to lunch or shower me with theater tickets for the endorsement). Hormones + shitty recovery from an infected c-section incision = happy pills. I’m feeling better now and I don’t cry eighty-seven times a day so that’s definitely a good indication that there’s something to the drug. I also know that my wound is healing well and I’m no longer in pain 24/7. Madelyn is the cutest baby to ever exist on this planet and my husband is the most awesome father. Things are on the way up. Thanks to the pill? Nah. The pill just allowed me to see this. Forest. Trees. That whole thing. I’m not sure how long I’ll be on it. I’ll admit, I’m afraid to find out what it feels like to be off of it, but I think it will probably be okay. Once the home care nurse stops coming to my house and Dr. Fiiiine has declared me healed, we’ll talk about weaning. I’m in no hurry, but I also don’t want to be on it forever. I’m just taking it, literally, one day at a time. Eventually, postpartum depression has to become past postpartum depression.

So, I know hate is a strong word, but I think I’d still use it in the same sentence to describe my feelings about Dr. Shlub. Without hesitation, I dump all the blame on him for stomping all over my woulda-shoulda-coulda after Madelyn arrived. But I also know that isn’t going to get me anywhere. Which brings me back to Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. This has really been my holiest year… period. I’m not kidding. I have a c-section hole below my belly button where my baby came out and it’s still open. It’s closing, though, little by little thanks to the daily medical care I’ve been receiving since August 19th. Dr. Fiiiine says we probably have just a few more weeks of packing the wound before we can call it a day. Or, approximately 80 days. I’m promising myself that when it’s closed, and my crooked abdominal scar is complete, I will stop looking back with such sadness and resentment and try to realize that I’m stronger for overcoming extreme hurdles.

Forgive on Yom Kippur? Ehhh, not really ready to do that. Forget? No, not happening either. Start anew with a fresh outlook? That I can do.

Set the DVRs. This Friday, Madelyn will be starring on the series finale of All My Children. The show airs at noon on ABC, or check your local listings. If it wasn’t for our daughter being on the show, I would be ashamed to see a soap opera on my DVR queue — that’s right, never been a soap fan. But when an agency calls you to come in for an audition for an iconic series, you go!

Our friend (Hi, Jan!) submitted Madelyn’s picture to her adorable granddaughter’s agency on our behalf (surprise!) and sure enough, they liked her Sally Field-style (they really liked her!) and requested she go audition for the role of “Infant” on All My Children the next day. What? Too soon! We didn’t have time to prepare for the audition and go shopping for new diapers, make an appointment at the Aveeno Baby Lotion Spa, or get her gums whitened. At least she had no lines to memorize. Phew!

I managed to put clothes on that didn’t resemble jammies and become human for the afternoon because I was three days post-infection diagnosis, dressed the baby in her most soap opera diva onesie, and drove off to the studio with Bryan and the star-to-be in tow.

As is typical with showbiz, we waited in an office hallway and filled out some simple paperwork before meeting with the casting people. Madelyn was on fabulous behavior and didn’t make a peep as people walked by without blinking when they saw a 15-day-old baby in their workplace. So Hollywood.

Our name was called and we met with a super nice man who casts talent for the show. We made sure to be polite and upstanding citizens because we know that they’d hate to cast a baby with obnoxious parents, so we abstained from making potty jokes and discussing politics. Then the audition began. It went something like this, are you ready?

Super Nice Casting Man: Wow, your baby is gorgeous. Let’s see here, this is, uh… Maaaadelyn. Let me record her on camera.

Madelyn: BLANK STARE ON CAMERA

Alison: Smile, Madelyn!

Madelyn: WHIMPER

Alison: Oh, she NEVER does this! She must be cold. Are you cold, Madelyn? Madelyn, do you want your blanket? She can’t be hungry! We just fed her. She’s actually really a good baby, Super Nice Casting Man! This isn’t how she normally is. She’s very sweet and is usually really easy and —

Super Nice Casting Man: It’s fine. They’re babies. It’s what babies do. She’s beautiful. She really is.

Alison: BEAMING WITH SATISFACTION

Meanwhile, Bryan stood there holding Madelyn like a strong, proud father as his newborn daughter made a minimal, cooing whimper and his wife began to have a nervous breakdown. THIS COULD BE COLLEGE MONEY!!!!!!!!

Then Super Nice Casting Man wanted to show Madelyn to his boss who is a big time casting director in the soap world. People, like, know her. I didn’t. But still, she wore a flashy red suit and had platinum blonde hair and just looked very soapy and important. She got oogly eyed over Madelyn and accidentally slipped and gave away WHO SHE’D BE PLAYING (but I can’t tell you here or my ass will be sued, and my ass is already very much in post-partum trouble). Madelyn started to whimper-coo again, I began to sweat in places I didn’t know existed, and then Soapy Important Casting Lady asked to hold her and Madelyn silenced. Good one, M! Well played! Now this woman felt like Soap Important Casting Lady AND Mary Freakin’ Poppins. This was looking good.

After that golden moment, we got a little “our people will call your people” lip service (SO HOLLYWOOD) and then we drove home. That was Madelyn’s big audition. She really nailed it. I mean, auditioning to play a baby? The kid’s got talent.

Then we drove home and about a freeway exit away from home, Madelyn’s agent called (ha! That just sounds so ridiculous) and said she booked the part. So now my freshly un-wombed daughter had a job and I am still unemployed. Wow, I didn’t think my kid would be taking care of her old, decrepit parents this early in life. Hey Madelyn, when you’re finished changing your own diaper, why don’t you change mine after Bingo in the dining hall?

We were super excited, but then began the wild goose chase of making her eligible to work. With one day before the weekend, Bryan rushed around to pick up her birth certificate at the Ventura County records office, file her work permit in Van Nuys, and get her pediatrician to sign off on her ability to work. Oh, and we also had to open up a special bank account so we don’t Jackie Coogan/Gary Coleman-ize our kid. It was totally nuts!

The weekend passed and Monday came. Like the rest of America, it was to the salt mines for Madelyn! She began work on the set and it was the start of a fabulous day. First there was a lot of paperwork in the production office regarding financey stuff that I don’t understand, and then the on-set child actor social worker (basically, the child actor pimp who makes sure the the production peeps don’t take advantage of our baby’s fresh-face naivete) escorted us on set and to Madelyn’s dressing room which was also Eva LaRue’s dressing room (Eva LaRue… anyone?? I just IMDBed her. She had guest spots on Charles In Charge and Perfect Strangers. I love her and I don’t even know her!).

I was required to call the wardrobe department over the weekend to give Madelyn’s measurements. I know they’re probably used to hearing 32-33-23 from their female guest stars, so when I said, “Ummm, newborn?” I expected some pretty couture Gymboree threads to fill her dressing room closet. This was not the case. Madelyn’s wardrobe was one of our own Pampers diapers and they provided a fake swaddle blanket that was really a white felt wrap made out of an old poodle skirt. Not so Hollywood.

This is where I give my warning: there were two babies on set. GASP. Yes, they hired two babies just in case one had a meltdown or blew out their diaper or something babyish like that. The other baby was almost 3 weeks older than Madelyn and had lighter brown hair. We were told they loved Madelyn for her youthful looks (ha!) as a newer newborn and her dark brown hair which matched [INSERT SECRET CHARACTER’S NAME HERE]. None of us know who will actually be aired on Friday and who made it on the cutting room floor. They filmed both babies. If they end up using the other one, I would tell you to boycott All My Children forever, but they’re doing that for you since Friday is the final episode after 40 years.

Production paged Baby Madelyn to go to the stage, but her genius mother decided it would be fine time to milk drunk her so she’d be quiet and calm. This required a diaper change and since there was no time to waste (so Hollywood), they asked for the other baby to come to set instead. Bryan and I panicked that we just became those difficult parents and worried our fate was sealed. That they’d give up on Madelyn and the other baby would be used instead and Madelyn would lose her chance to become the next “it” face of Disney and then end up a slutty Sunset Strip underage party-goer and Lohan’s BFF. Thankfully, those chances are still up for grabs because they did indeed call Baby Madelyn to the stage after the other one (future Nicky Hilton?).

We got to escort Madelyn as she was carried by the baby nurse (a real nurse is required to handle babies on the set because of liability and health concerns) and watch the scene as we stood ten feet from her and her scene partners. Bryan watched through the monitors and I watched the live action. They did two takes and wrapped! They said she did great and everyone gushed over her. I wonder if they gushed over baby Nicky Hilton the same way. Tiger Mom curiosity comes out!

And then we dressed Madelyn out of her poodle skirt wannabe swaddle and put her back into her normal baby clothes. Said goodbye to the staff and Sarah Michelle Gellar’s dressing room which was right across from ours. Drove home and got reacquainted with commoner life.

We really don’t know much about the episode, but I’ve been watching bits and pieces of this week’s shows to get an idea of how Madelyn’s character will play out. So don’t forget to record or tune in this Friday to All My Children or, as it always is in our house, All My Child.

There’s never a dull moment in the Friedman household. Just as I’m finally well and able to be more hands-on with Madelyn after my nasty infection, Madelyn is battling an a-hole of a diaper rash. It started out as the classic red tushie and I thought I had conquered it, proving to be a rockstar mama while recovering with gauze in a hole on my tummy. WRONG! Rockstar? More like a mockstar. Ugh. After a strict routine of air drying and Maximum Strength Desitin that seemed to help make the skin clear nicely, the diaper rash came back with a vengeance and now I’m on mission to kick it for good.

At Madelyn’s one-month check-up on Friday, I mentioned my recent battle to Dr. Baby and she prescribed a special cream that would help because it wasn’t just any old diaper rash, nooooo. My daughter has to be all special and get designer diaper rash that comes in the form of a yeast infection! No, not that kind. Just yeast. On the skin. On the tushie. It makes angry red bumps that glisten on top of the cheek, or, as Dr. Baby describes it, “beefy looking.” Lovely. No more Ruth’s Chris steak for me.

So, $48 later (and that’s after the co-pay), this miracle cream was purchased and I dashed home and, of course, researched the heck out of it on the Internet. Why I do the Googling after the purchasing, I don’t know. I learned that its ingredients consist of zinc oxide (Desitin), white petroleum (Vaseline), and miconazole nitrate (basically Monistat cream), all over-the-counter ointments that can be purchased for a total of under $20, but this rookie mom fell for the prescription all-in-one version. I feel like a sucker, but then again, I also don’t want to be playing chemist and figuring out the proportions of each ingredient. We started using this miracle drug (and for $48, it better be!) on Friday morning and as of now, I don’t notice a huge difference yet.

The rash has improved slightly, but I still wince every time I change Madelyn’s diaper and see her little behind looking so red and painful. Mommy instincts have kicked in because after three days of seeing this monster, I am now one pissed off mother bear who has become obsessed with killing this rash that’s eating away at my daughter’s perfect tuchus. Looking at it makes my own skin hurt and then my heart sinks and my stomach turns with sympathy. The diaper change usually ends with tears welling up in my eyes because I’m so frustrated about this rash and only want the best for Madelyn. She’s barely five weeks old and she has a file at the pharmacy with her first prescription in it. Can’t she just have a clean record for, like, the first year of her life? Is it fair that she — we — are already dealing with a pestering — albeit, rather benign in the grand scheme of things, thank goodness — ailment?

I want her to always know only good health and never feel irritation from anything. I know this won’t always be possible or hold true as we humans have our ups and downs with our health, but I now officially know the feeling of wanting to trade her discomfort for my comfort.

In my very early days of mommyhood, I was dealing with my c-section infection and experiencing extremely painful incision packing sessions twice a day. The ordeal would only take 20 or so minutes, but I would cry through the whole thing, curling my toes, and biting on a free finger. The rest of my hands were clenched in my mom’s as she held me for comfort and distraction from the awful procedure. I never looked at the infected incision site, but my mom did and knew exactly what was going on down there. When it came time for the doctor or nurse (or even, sometimes, Bryan!) to pack the wound, she held me tight, squeezing my hands, and narrated the process so I knew there’d be an end in sight. During the first few days of packing sessions, through the tear dropped slits of my closed eyes, I could see my mom grimacing with me and becoming emotional. Once, in a breakdown of pity in my dark bedroom, I sobbed and sobbed about how unfair this turn of events was and vented about the excruciating pain. And then my mom cried with me.

Clearly I needed a few more weeks and regular mothering practices — like changing painful diapers — to finally understand why my mom looked just as miserable as I felt. And she was in one whole piece! She felt no physical pain, obviously, but it’s now dawned on me that she was feeling emotional pain for me, as she worried about my condition and wanted the situation to be over. Just because I am an adult, I am still her child and seeing me suffer was probably killing her.

I am 28 years old and my mom cringed about my open, infected wound. Madelyn is just over 28 days old, and I am torn up about her flaring skin. No matter the age of her child or how long she’s been a mother, a woman’s compassion for her kid is powerful and ongoing. I’m part of this club of women — the mothers club — and I know my membership comes with a lifetime of worrying and concern. I just wish I knew the secret handshake to banish this ugly diaper rash and get Madelyn’s little booty back to normal.