{Unlike most first-time parents, I don't have a lot of pictures of baby's first day, since I mostly used Instagram Stories to document its birth and I forgot that those images expire after 24 hours.}

10:30 a.m.

I finally did it. I stopped obsessing and researching and stressing and studying and I followed one person’s advice (Maurizio, author of The Perfect Loaf blog) and started a bread baby.

No more thinking, I said to myself. Just jump in already.

Except I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I was calm when I was following Maurizio’s instructions. It's rather straightforward and logical, after all. Equal parts water and flour. Weighed, not measured in a measuring cup. But now that it’s mine—my complete responsibility—I'm supposed to just let it sit there and do its thing and just trust that it’ll all work out?

I am obviously very uncomfortable with this. I’ve checked on my bread baby three times already, and it’s only one hour old.

I’m already turning into an overprotective mother.

No. A doughverprotective mother.

Questioning everything: Is the container too wide? Won’t it have to work harder if it has to spread out and rise at the same time? Is the lid too tight? Too loose? What if the yeast and air can’t get in? What if too much gets in, and my bread baby dries into a wheaty hockey puck? Sourdough starter relies on wild yeast--the yeast that's floating around in the air. Yes, the air you're breathing right now. How do I know my air yeast is good air yeast?

What if I kill my bread baby?!

11:30 a.m.

Maurizio commented on my Instagram post and I'm fangirling so hard right now. Pan-girling? (You know, because pan is Spanish for bread? A bit of a stretch, eh? Ooh, stretch. Like how gluten gets all stretchy. Oh the pun-sibilities are endless in the world of baking!)

2:35 p.m.

Came home from grocery shopping. Dropped the groceries and checked on the bread baby. I swear, it's changed—just a little bit. Come tomorrow morning, I’m going to be like a kid on Christmas. What will I find in my tempered glass stocking?

9:10 p.m.

Came home from Sunday dinner—pot roast!—and immediately checked the baby. It’s growing! It’s smoothing out, and has spread out enough to almost cover the bottom of the jar. I looked on the underside--thank God for glass!--and there are BUBBLES on the bottom! It's amazing that there's so much activity so far. Kinda makes me second guess all the food I've eaten even after it's been sitting out on the counter all day. Is this why I tend to have such an iron constitution? Because I routinely eat old food that's riddled with invisible bacteria and the beginnings of fermentation?

What's going to happen when I feed it tomorrow morning? How big is my bread baby going to get?!

I was so wrapped up in my doughdream that it took Dodo full-throttle meowing at my feet to make me remember that my other babies need to be fed, too.