My Sincerest and Deepest Apologies

My friend Shannon is always right. I mean, I guess I can’t say that with absolute authority because I have not known her her entire life but suffice it to say that in the 10-plus years I’ve known her, she has never been wrong. She was commenting a while back about how she hopes I will post lots of pictures of the baby after he/she is born and in passing mentioned how everybody always thinks they will be the exception when it comes to over-documenting and posting their baby’s life but then once said baby arrives, “gosh darn it!” you think, “the world needs to see how adorable this child of mine is!”

It was an epiphany because it made me realize that I totally WAS one of those holier-than-thou individuals who claimed to have no intention of capturing and posting every single outfit change and facial expression in my baby. But WHO AM I KIDDING?!?! Judging by how irresistibly adorable I find baby clothes, I am guessing that once there is an actual human infant in them I am going to die a thousand deaths from cuteness overload and then proceed to share a million pictures that look exactly the same. *sigh* You have been given fair warning and I apologize in advance for all of the deeply embarrassing, very mundane (to everyone else) first-time mom stuff I will be posting soon.


I was reading up on newborn care the other day and under the section on bathing them, it mentioned how important it is to keep them warm while in the bath. The article mentioned as an aside that babies in the womb of course always feel warm and protected and that tiny comment made me want to stay pregnant forever because it seemed so lovely to think that right now my baby is “always warm and protected” and then I immediately started worrying that the baby would soon be in a world where there is cold and unprotectedness to feel. I then, of course, quickly came to my senses because staying pregnant forever means that I’d have to live a low carb diet the rest of my life. So I am back to fervently praying that Baby will make a grand entrance the very second I hit full term instead of dilly-dallying until the 40th or 41st week. Then, I thought about how much I am craving fried chicken and wondered whether it will rain tonight because we sure need it. Then, I thought about fried chicken some more because the yellow brick road that is my stream of consciousness always leads back to food.


Bittersweet yet lovely


picture from the day Adan proposed


We are less than two months away from welcoming Baby Rosales Kim and part of me is feeling nostalgic that this honeymoon phase of marriage is coming to an end. Every special occasion makes me think: this will be our last Valentine’s Day just the two of us, this will be our last trip just the two of us (at least for a while), this is my/his last birthday before we become parents, maybe one of the last times we can look at each other at 11 pm and decide to go out for wings and burgers. And despite the fact that we planned and hoped and prayed for this baby and are really, really excited to meet him/her, there is a part of me that feels it is a tiny bit bittersweet that this chapter is ending because I have loved it (I should say that I am fairly certain that Adan does not feel this at all. I think he was ready for us to have a baby two seconds after we were pronounced husband and wife.)

Still, as soon as these nostalgic thoughts hit me, I get excited thinking about how next year our baby will be eating mashed up pancakes with us for Valentine’s Day. Or how we will have so many firsts. First time we hold the baby, first smile, first time baby recognizes us, first trip to the zoo. So much to look forward to. Can’t wait.



Our unbelievably talented artist friend Oliver Flores painted this. Hard to believe that there’s people that can create things like this considering that even my stick figures are lackluster and no one ever wants to play Pictionary with me. I mean, are we even the same species?

This was based on the hot air balloon festival we all went to last year, our two families. Can you spot Adan and me in it?


Despite all of my best intentions to eat healthy, sometimes the fetus wants what the fetus wants

20180429_160440Totally worth burning the roof of my mouth on the hot cheese. (Is it normal that Adan and I can polish off almost an entire Costco pizza in one sitting?)

We went to see the new Avengers movie on Saturday. I am not usually a fan of this genre of superhero movies (is it just me or do they keep getting longer and longer and more and more incomprehensible? Am I the only one that feels like I am watching a foreign film with no subtitles?) but when you are 31 weeks pregnant and the thermometer in your house reads 31.5 Celcius at 10 PM, you are just happy for any opportunity to take a nap in an air-conditioned room. Also, one of the best things about living in Mexico is the movie popcorn. Best movie theater popcorn ever. So overall, it was a fun afternoon.



That giddy feeling after you order a pizza…


there’s nothing like it.

Speaking of Santa Claus, my belly now shakes like a bowl full of jelly all on its own. It’s pretty comical to watch. Still, it just doesn’t get old to feel the baby moving around in there.

I told Adan that after the baby is born, it would be his turn to hold and carry and feed him or her for the next 10 months. I mean, it’s only fair considering that I had the first 10-month shift of doing all those things.

Since my doctor told me to cut back on gluten (which, telling a pregnant Choong Sil to cut back on bread is akin to telling an enraged King Kong to tread lightly. You know how they have done brain scans of Tibetan monks while they meditate and they reach this state of actual Nirvana? That is my brain on pasta. My brain on a gluten-free diet sadly resembles that of your average Protestant.) I have been limiting myself to eating a small portion just once a day. She did, after all, tell me to cut back on it not to cut it out altogether and if there’s one area in my life I don’t care to go above and beyond in, it would be healthy eating. I’ll forgo sandwiches for lunch so that I can have pasta for dinner. Or if I have toast for breakfast I can’t have anything else the rest of the day.

It’s been hard but weekends are the hardest when I wake up and am craving blueberry pancakes, waffles, pizza, scones, brownies from a box, churros, and burgers. Previously, Adan and I might have tried to check off at least four of those in one day but now I am faced with the dilemma of choosing just one thing. Hence the ecstatic expressions on our faces at the prospect of pizza.


Pregnancy milestones


I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that this happened but I can no longer see my feet. When I stand still and look straight down, all I see is belly. This, of course, has me thinking a lot about Santa Claus. Whenever in the past I have seen pictures of mall Santas or children’s book illustrations of him, it has given me all the warm feelings. Now, I can’t help but wonder whether he lived in those boots of his because leaning over to tie them must have been a pain. Putting on and taking off shoes has become a small obstacle these days and I am convinced that flip-flops were invented by a pregnant woman.

So many people have told us that pregnancy goes “so fast.” I am confused by this because this has seemed the total opposite of fast. I feel like most days I think to myself, “23 weeks, 2 days. 23 weeks 3 days….” Although we have officially reached the point where we more often reference the number of weeks left (10!) rather than the number of weeks along (30). So I guess that’s something.

The necklace I’m wearing was a gift from Adan who says it was a selfish gesture on his part because it enables him to look at his two favorite things at once: airplanes and his wife. He’s such a charmer when he wants to be.

20180419_161025It makes up for those occasions when he is being anything but charming. Case in point, he will often go all serious and quiet and then look me right in the eyes and declare, “I need to tell you something.” And what follows is usually: “we’re out of milk,” or “I ran into our neighbor the other day and she said to say hi.” In short, information that didn’t need such a dramatic preface. I have told him on multiple occasions that he should only use that phrase when it involves a serious medical diagnosis or if he’s leaving me. But he still does it. (now, being out of cheese, that merits the equivalent of breaking in on live CNN feed in the Rosales Kim house and clearly, he should have me sitting down and with Kleenex on hand before telling me.)

Pre-partum anxieties

We went to a music festival this weekend where the lineup included Alanis Morrisette and The Killers along with a dozen other bands I had never heard of. I like that Adan makes me step outside of my comfort zone in this way. If it were up to me, we would be eating spaghetti on the couch in front of the TV every single weekend.



I finally caved and bought some summer maternity clothes. It has been 150 million degrees (take your pick: Celcius, Fahrenheit, lightyears) in the shade and on this day, I actually went out wearing a non-maternity dress I already owned and convinced myself that it was on the shorter side now because of the bowling ball strapped to my midsection but should be fine only to find that every time there was a slight breeze I was in danger of indecent exposure. It would have been highly reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe except that I am not blond, it was not the least bit sexy, and had Marilyn swallowed a watermelon whole before stepping on that subway grate. We had to make a stop at the mall before heading to the festival once I realized this and I was much more comfortable for it.

I know a lot of women who were very conscientiously pregnant, for whom this 10 months is a time of research and being cautious. I admire them. Mostly I am too lazy to Marie Kondo every piece of food I put in my mouth, holding it up to the scrutiny of whether it gives me joy, is farm-to-table, organic, and nutrient dense. I don’t eat kale any more often than I did when I wasn’t growing a fetus (which is to say that I never eat it). We initially bought a stack of baby books and a few onesies (and have been gifted a few different items) and more recently a car seat but other than that we have no made baby-related purchases whatsoever. And if nesting is an actual thing, it has either completely passed me by or has yet to hit me. We don’t have a color picked out for the nursery because babies can’t tell colors apart for the first few months of life so who are we even painting for (read: we are lazy)? I wish I could say that I at least legalistically apply sunscreen now but I don’t. One of the pregnancy books I skimmed suggested moving if you live in an area with a lot of air pollution and it made me wonder whether there are actually couples that move to New Zealand for the duration of the pregnancy? Wow. Hats off to them.

For the most part, I feel like we are as prepared as can be in terms of knowledge and stuff, which is to say that we are woefully unprepared and clueless but don’t think we can change that fact by worrying about it.

That’s not to say that I don’t worry at all. Like all expectant first-time parents, we are daunted at the supreme task of being responsible for a human being. Mainly, though, what I am daunted by is the prospect of bringing a newborn home to a house that doesn’t have Netflix. Whenever I visit a new mom, they all seem to have mindless shows in a constant Netflix loop. What will I do without this critical survival tool??? Is it even possible? Why isn’t this issue addressed in any of the pregnancy books instead of all those neverending lectures on the importance of nutrition?