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(Reader Advisory: This post contains mentions of poop. Both cute baby poop and not-so-cute adult poop. This shouldn't be seen as an indication of this blog's typical content moving forward, but we're talking about new parenthood/postpartum life today. Be warned, and feel free to skip this post if bodily function content isn't your thing.) It's strange to pop back up into this space after 10 months and realize that my last post had so much to do with grief, specifically grief over a miscarriage. I didn't know as I wrote that post that I was newly pregnant with another child. This one did live to be born into the world on September 9, 2021. A boy named Owen. Needless to say, that pregnancy was filled with conflicting emotions as I continued to process grief but also tried to anticipate and celebrate a new life. Maybe I'll write more about that in time. My firstborn, a son named Owen, is six weeks old. It is the hour before dawn and I write this from the couch

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