One Hundred Days

It’s been one hundred days (and some) since our daughter was born last November. According to Korean tradition, a baby’s birth is celebrated only after 100 days. Until then, people did not openly celebrate nor even acknowledge the birth, for fear of triggering the jealousy and wrath of a particular goddess in charge of babies. For 100 days, the baby and the mother are confined indoors.

Of course, we being westernized and all, took the baby out to the public after 6 weeks with an okay from her pediatrician and an okay from my OB. Where did we go? To K-Town, of course. Complete strangers (almost always older Korean women) ooh’ed and aah’ed at our baby, while not hesitating to opine:
“What a cute baby!!”
“Thank you.”
“How old?”
“Six weeks.” Or “Two months.” Or “Two-and-a-half months.”
“You mean the baby is not yet 100 days?”
This was then followed by a quick, closing remark such as “I guess times are different.” “What has the world come to?” “You must be very healthy, like an American woman.”

Last weekend was sweet. During our weekly K-Town trip, I had several chances to reply with my head up high, “She passed her 100 days!”