Espen Insomniac

My baby is apparently going through what they call a "sleep regression".  I only quote this because I was forced to run to the interwebs for some kind of explanation after the second night of Espen waking after 4 hours of sleep and screaming inconsolably for 3 hours. That was over a week ago.  Repeat performances have continued, yea, increased, in intensity and frequency every day since then.

Naps are a thing of the past.  It is breath-taking how quickly a tiny human can go from having two regular 1-2 hour naps every day to NADA...or at the very best, 30 minutes whilst strapped in the Ergo Baby after being awake for 6 hours straight. (Normal length of time between waking and first nap was MAX 3 hours heretofore)

Whereas before this descenrt into waking purgatory commenced, my baby was remarkably coordinated, accurate, and sunny, he has transformed into a stumbling, erratic, emotional tornado. He has retained some of his earlier developmental quirks, such as crawling with his wooden ball in one hand, which produces the peg-leg-crawler phenomenon. Think bi-polar pirate.  He yaarrrghs, gnashes his two teeth, howls, and flails around yowling baby profanity to anyone who is within earshot.  He's your best friend one minute and your mortal enemy the next.

Internet wisdom informs me that this is due to his brain going at warp 9 in a mad attempt to connect dendrites flapping about in his baby brain.  I firmly expect to wake up one of these mornings to Espen standing by my side asking me for breakfast in Danish.  Of course, this could take anywhere from 2 to 6 weeks to be completed, but it'll be worth it.

Only thing is, it's pretty sad to see tired babies lurching about drunkenly, unable to just sleep despite all efforts and attempts to induce some shut-eye.  Espen gets this sort of crazed, red-rimmed glaze in his eyes that seems to say, "Sleepy....must...close....OHMYGOODNESSLOOKATTHATMIRROR!!!....sooo tired.....AAAAAA!!!MAKINGSOUNDSLIKEMOM!!!" It's fairly tragic.

Granted, there are some small upsides to this desert of sleeplessness.  One is that he now sits still long enough to read him books.  Another is that he now tolerates cuddles.  Still further, is the fact that he has become deeply needful of being in Tobias' and my presence at all times. By that I mean, he wants to be held NOW MOM. MORE.  Sweet baby.

I haven't been this tired in a real long time. It's like a second go at having a newborn.

Having a baby, this baby, is like being addicted to Bikram Yoga. For those of you who don't know what this is, it's doing yoga in 110 degrees for 90 minutes.  At any point in time, you inevitably ask yourself, "WHY am I doing this at 6am?!"  And then you look down and realize you're touching parts of your feet you could never EVER reach in a normally heated world.  You sweat like a pig, get way more flexible than you'd normally be, and come back for more the next day, even though you feel like you've just had all the electrolytes sucked out of your body by salt vampires.  You do it because it makes you feel high in a natural, self-induced kind of way.

Ahhhh, conscious insomnia and exhaustion. Is there anything better?

Even so, for Espen's sake, I hope he finds his way to verbal expression, walking, or whatever Major Development he's working on, real soon.  Everyone knows that being sleep deprived is just as influential as being intoxicated.  I am just glad he's so close to the ground and relatively spongy.  In the meantime, it's Ergo babies and grandparents to the rescue for those moments when Tobias and I have used all the tricks in our bag and the Pirate Child is still knocking back the rum and yelling out drinking songs at the top of his lungs at 3 am.

Twas the night before the night before Christmas and in a new house...

At 10 pm all was silent, except for Espen Mouse. He, for the nebenefit of all beings everywhere, was howling up a storm.  This was no passing squall. No. This was Hurricane Wesp.  For the next three hours he wept, he moaned, he screamed, he screeched.  The Bear would not be pacified by rocking nor milk.  He was not to be distracted by calm pacing or quiet songs. Only gale force emotional winds would do.  When he finally collapsed against Tobias around 1am, it was due to sheer exhaustion instead of a peaceful surrender to sleep.

How did all this transpire? Well.  The holidays bring out the best and worst in all of us.  

This year, we decided to switch up the old standard of Christmas at the Farm and head to The Dalles to spend Yule with Jackie and Sean and Mom and Dad.  Sunshine and rivers instead of rain and forests seemed like a move in the enlightened direction.

Wesp thought so too, until it was time for bed.  This baby loves new things.  He loves new people.  He will stay up all night so he doesn't miss anything.  We learned this on a whole new level last night.  

Now he knows all the folks here, so it wasn't the quality of exposure to new people that sent him into mental meltdown, rather, I suspect, it was the quantity.  

He is used to spending the bulk of his days with me or Tobias and having limited stints of exciting interactions with the world.  His routine is very established.  

And suddenly, out of nowhere, BAMO! Aunties! Uncles! Grandparents! Dogs! Packages everywhere! Sparkly things hanging from the sky!  WHOA.  

So I get how it might be difficult to stay asleep.  Now.  I get it now, after a sleepless night reminiscent of his newborn days.  I'll admit, I may have gotten somewhat cocky about my baby's flexibility.  It's easy enough to do when you have a predictable schedule in place and then decide to change up something minor like, say, pushing nap time back a half hour. 

Ok. I may have gotten somewhat cocky about MY flexibility.  

Things that I wouldn't have thought about before became flashing beacons of warning.  Televisions for example. We don't have one. Apparently I've become hypersensitive to the noise levels on Espen's behalf and can only hear the screaming children, the raccous laughter, and the backfire of cars in Christmas classics like A Christmas Story.  Even Christmas music. No Manheim Steamroller thank you.  Perhaps some Silver Bells, but only very quietly please.  

I may have contracted some Holiday Neurosis.  But this is not about me. This is about the fact that my baby cried for three hours straight last night and I'm keen to find a reason WHY. WHY OH WHY. 

We may never know, but in the end, we all fell into a grateful sleep, which, though not nearly long enough in the grand illusion of Relaxing Holidays, was still sleep. 

Now my dearest Christmas wish can be summed up in an old yule hymn.  

Silent Night

Holy Night 

All is calm

All is bright. 

Yes please.  If not, well, at least I have an adorable baby, sleep deprived or not.

Merry Christmas- My Baby's On Fire

We are nearing the nine month mark now and Espen has generated enough energy to launch himself out of the earth's orbit and into outer space.  On the back of his red rubber pony.  This was apparently supposed to be a secret until lift off, but I happened upon him in one of the final test launches and discovered his plan.  You can see that this clearly was NOT in his master scheme.  

Needless to say, the only course of action I could take at that point, was to get him sleepy on Thanksgiving turkey and let the tryptophan do the rest.  

Regardless of my attempts to keep his feet on the ground, at least until his first birthday, The Bear already had his helmet picked out and had his eyes fixed on the heavens.  There is no stopping that boy when he sets his mind on something. Or somewhere.  The photo he sent us of the moonscape was eerily familiar and I could only wonder if this child is actually a tiny, adorable alien sent to us from a place much like earth, to help us remember how to truly live life.

He makes sounds these days... Baa, baa BAP, daaa daaa daaaaap, that could just as easily be communication with the Mother Ship as pre-verbal practice sessions. He also loves nothing more than gazing with rapture at Christmas Lights and ooooohhhing, and ohhhhhhhhhhhhhing at them as if they are communicating special messages to him as he careens around the house trying to coax the cat off her perches by shrieking at her and burbling as he approaches.  Cats, apparently, do not exist in the same form on planet .  It is a good thing our floors are tile because the speed at which he crawls could easily catch a hardwood or carpeted floor on fire.

Other clues that he may spontaneously combust and reveal his true celestial nature are:
1. He hates being changed because it requires him to be still and lie on his back for FAR to long.
2. He abhors large bodies of water, like swimming pools.  Hates. Them.
3. He screams at being put into his car seat unless he is very sleepy or distracted by something. (apparently the long ride here was too much for him to want to make a repeat voyage to the mother planet, even at warp speed)
4. He is freakishly strong and has started doing pull ups on the oven handle when he thinks we aren't looking.
5. He crawls in circles around other babies his age and tries to eat their faces. We're working on that.

Whatever star system he hails from however, we are most pleased to have him as the central part of our earth family.  Should he decide he must return to another planet at any point in time, we will, of course, join him.  In the meantime, we are taking regular naps so as to keep up with him, buckets of water and hugs in tow, for when he inevitably goes harder and faster than his chubby baby body can handle and ends up bonking his head, yet again. Merry Christmas and may all your babies stay at room temperature.

Espen's First Sleepover-Relearning to relax...

The first night away from Wesp has occurred.  It has been eight months to the day since he was born and every night since then, he has slept under our watch.

Last night, November 30, 2013, was Tobias' and my first anniversary, and we decided to go big.  There was milk in the fridge, grandparents and aunts and uncles ready to keep the night watch, and a city waiting for us to paint it red in celebration of surviving the honeymoon period with our respect and love for each other intact.

What if, we thought, we stayed out past midnight and SLEPT IN UNTIL WE WOKE UP as our grand broohaha?!  Alright.  Now keep in mind, grandma and grandpa's house is about fifty paces away from our house, and we had decided that we had best return to our cozy bed instead of staying in a posh downtown hotel.  It's pretty far away to be from The Bear and our wanderlust is still on the rebound.

We informed Espen of the plan and he responded with his usual enthusiasm.  Kicking legs and waving arms with glee on his way to the bathtub, he LOVES grandma and grandpa's house.  Tobias and I were pleased for him.  I've read all these articles about how babies are supposed to go through a regression around this time; where they only want mom or dad and get very shy, but this memo seems not to have found The Bear's desk.  He howls and clicks in delight when he meets new people and rarely looks anxiously for us in a crowd.  Talk about well-adjusted.

People kept making comments like, "See how long it takes before you're checking in on him and talking about him...".  But here's the thing.  We wouldn't be going out for the night if we didn't feel absolutely confident and certain that he would be well taken care of and in the best of hands outside of our own.

This is one thing that I feel we are good at; really feeling solid about our choices regarding the health and well-being of our son.  This is turn, allows US to truly relax and focus on ourselves when we take the time to be Adults Doing Grown Up and Important Things For Themselves.

The evening was a huge success for us and we slept in until 10.30 the next morning. Of course, the first thing we both said was, "Great! Let's go see The Bear!"...who just happened to be napping...and is still napping 2.5 hours later.  It's almost as if he's saying, "Hey mom and dad, everyone wins when we take care of ourselves and remember to have fun!"

Thanks babyface.  Can't wait to see you when you wake up.

He crawls! He crawls!

First it began as a modified Worm. Yes, that's right. My baby started his journey to uprightness with a nod to his 80's dance forefathers-The Breakdancers.  He could oozle his way from one end of the living room to
in the time it takes to say, "B-boy". That was about a month ago.

Then, this week, Espen made his first solid debut into the world of opposing hand and feet action. Allow me to note that this was about two weeks AFTER he pulled himself up into standing against the rocking chair, unassisted. He wants to be a flaneur in the worst way and it is clear there will be no stopping his perambulations.

In other Espen news, his newest nickname is Espey Wesperton, which I think sounds like an old timey cowboy screen name.  Espey does not care about artistic details like this yet, but I believe that one day, he will.  In the meantime, check out this BABY.

Moms Take Care!

I felt pretty confident about my self-development and personal evolution before having a baby.  Self-care was right up there on the short list of Things I've Gotten Good At.  I danced regularly (good for body AND soul), cooked myself sensible breakfasts, walked to work, had a writing website, regular massages, adventures out of and around town, and practiced gratitude.  If anyone was ready to take on a dependent soul who needed absolute devotion, presence, and love, it was me.

And then, after 41 weeks of conscious and intentional baby growing and birthing, I had Espen in my arms.  There was much to be celebrating. An ecstatic, drug-free, rip-free birth and a healthy, alert, gorgeous baby.  Hell, I was within 15 pounds of my pre-birth weight a week after giving birth. Sure we had our challenges, just like everyone else, but all things considered, I was truly living the Empowering Birth dream.

Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice was calling out to me, "Don't forget to continue empowering yourself! Must. Continue. Self-Care." I made a quick promise to do so in the middle of a mad dash to deposit the twelfth load of dirty laundry into the machine that day.

Though there is an inbred martyr that lurks in the corners of my psyche, rattling its chains of eternal suffering and servitude, on the whole, I only let it out for the occasional pity party, and that, generally, is in front of the audience of me.

HOWEVER, motherhood apparently brings out a whole new playing field of opportunities to forgo one's own needs for the greater, more dependent good.  As it should. And yet, as I found myself taking five minutes longer in the bathroom than I needed in reality, checking to make sure the door was locked so nothing could come in and demand my attention, I realized that my promise of self-care may have gotten forgotten somewhere between HAVING a baby and three months later.

As a grown up, it is my responsibility to make sure I am taking care of my own grown self.  It is also my responsibility to take care of any dependents I have brought into the world.  Now, how to find the balance. You don't just sign up for a two week meditation retreat when you have a newborn that needs you.  Nor do you throw up your hands and say, "What can I do with FIVE minutes?!"

Creativity is the key.  With five minutes you can read a quick chapter in your "How to ground and stay connected to your center" book.  If you're a slow reader, you can take a quick shower.  You can brew a cup of warm tea.  You can write down three things you're grateful for, even if you're writing "I'm grateful" in front of sentence that finishes with "my bum feels like it's going to fall off."  You may not be able to nap, but you can have a primal roar or a nice long hug with your partner.  There's lots you can do with five minutes, even with a sleep deprived brain.

I started going back to acupuncture once a week as soon as possible.  It was amazing to have Tobias around to watch Espen for the hour or two required for extreme qi balancing...and it was fundamental to staying healthy enough to be able to continue operating at a level of awareness that I can respect. Now I know not everyone has the luxury of a supportive partner and I recognize that this makes it more challenging to find those five minutes. It also makes it more important than EVER that you DO.

Recently, with Espen now at 7.5 months and a good stock of milk in the fridge, I have started wandering back to ecstatic dance and its pervasive wisdom.  My body speaks of places I need to pay some attention to. My spirit reminds me of my connection to a world of beauty.  My mind rages and calms itself over the space of an hour and a half and finally resolves to a state of peace and acceptance.

This time, between acupuncture and dance probably amounts to about four or five hours a week that are mine and mine alone.  While this may seem like luxury, I am certain that it is a necessity.  One that I am most proud to say, I have prioritized and Tobias has supported intentionally.  We are forming a basis to model self care for Espen and we're walking the walk.  That makes me feel proud.

And a lot more limber for facing life's unexpected scenarios.

The Real Story of Espen's Birth

I had discovered the concept of orgasmic childbirth two years before getting pregnant.  It was through a book I reviewed on The Independent Author’s Review, a website I had started to provide a forum for critiquing independently published books.  The book was by a man named Dave Markowitz, whom I later became friends with and it briefly mentioned that childbirth need not be the horrific, painful, screaming exhibition that our society paints it to be.  I was fascinated at the thought of working with my body in such harmony that ecstacy was the result.  I became an instant convert; who wouldn’t be at least curious about painless childbirth?  That is where my intentional childbirth path began, though I had no specific plans to get pregnant at the time. I simply knew that if I did, it would be with an intention of empowerment and remembering-women have done this for thousands of years-it would be a rite of passage that I co-created with my partner and child. 

When Tobias and I discovered that we were indeed with child, I was pointed in a direction;  ecstatic, orgasmic childbirth.  I figured it was similar to the “Aim for the moon” saying…I might not hit the Oh Baby Button, but at least I’d be among the stars, so to speak. Nevermind the fact that stars are way further away than the moon. Perhaps space was really the aim.  To feel like I had an area carved out for me and this most powerful of bodily experiences, instead of being poked, prodded and monitored without thought to the spirituality and instinctual wisdom of bringing another life into the world through my body. 

The 41 weeks leading up to Espen’s birth were filled with reading, meditating, walking through Danish forests, Mexican jungles and American mountains.  It was extremely important to become comfortable and tuned into my body and walking through nature has always been one of my greatest meditative techniques.  Using my body and senses to maneuver through my surroundings gave me time and space to start conversing with Espen about my thoughts and dreams for his arrival. 

In conjunction with educating my body, I sought out and read titles like Unassisted Childbirth, Painless Childbirth, Ina Mae’s Guide To Childbirth, Home Birth, Orgasmic Childbirth and more.  Anything I could get my hands on to reprogram the societal messages of contraction, pain, fear and anxiety to that of expansion, natural, waves, profound, wisdom, and listening. 

Tobias and I shifted our language around childbirth to support the desired reality.  We talked about expansions or surges instead of contractions, practice surges instead of Braxton-hicks, birth instead of labour, sensation instead of pain.  I come from a background laced with earthy no-nonsense people, creatives, and religious worriers so my propensity for anxious thoughts, particularly around my physical self, is quite high.  I wanted to head things off at the pass so I could stay as calm and centered as possible during the actual birth.  The best way to do that for me was to set a course of what I DID want and stick to it, having the grace to accept the deviations that might occur along the way.

Pregnancy itself was low key.  I gained about 35-40 lbs, maintained normal blood pressure, occasionally felt woosy, but never threw up once…just napped a lot and had some health anxiety about my heart…it’s funny in hindsight how things you reject originally can find a place in your psyche if you have unhealed contracts with coping mechanisms like fear and control.  

Back in my mid-twenties, a cardiologist had told me that I would automatically be placed in a high risk category should I become pregnant and that they very possibly would need to deliver me at the beginning of the third tri-mester if my heart couldn’t tolerate the increased blood volume.  He also said nice things like, “You could have your Congestive Heart Failure relapse permanently.”  Despite the fact that I have had consistently normal echoes over the years AND the fact that I turned up my nose at his prediction, in the face of the unknown of pregnancy, I quickly recalled his dire prophecies despite the fact that I was healthy and showing normal in all of my tests.

Feeding the fire of fear was the last thing I wanted to do, so I opted for minimal testing during pregnancy and only had one blood test around seven months and blood pressure checks.  No ultrasounds, no amniocentisis, no continual poking and prodding.  Tobias and I compromised on who would be involved with the actual birth.  I was for going into the woods myself and having Espen and coming back with a new baby.  Tobias was for the traditional hospital and full compliment of staff on hand, though he was open to relaxing that. Our half-way point was to have a midwife who would be willing to be hands off and act as an accessible expert should we have questions or concerns during the birth itself.

Joy Jech of Blossom Midwifery was our perfect fit.  I had written to her while still in Denmark because I loved her website.  It was full of photos of pregnant women painted like flowers with babies inside and spoke of her own ecstatic birth.  “Yep,” I thought, “I want someone with me who has lived the dream.” 

We knew we wanted to give birth at home, on the farm in Oregon City.  I wanted to infuse that place with some positive energy that would permeate all the way down to its roots.  I wanted Espen to have a deep sense of being connected to the earth and elements right from the get go. After watching numerous videos about waterbirths, particularly during our Hypnobirthing class, we we sold on having a tub available during Espen’s birth.  Of course, we had no idea if he was to be a boy or a girl since we opted out of ultrasounds, we were going on the predictions of the Mayan shaman who had married us and our various acupuncturists and family members who were weighing in with their intuition. 

The tub was set up a week before birth began and we had a test run to see if our RV hose would be long enough to reach from the bathroom to the bedroom.  It did, so we just sealed around in the pool pretending to be mermaids for a good long while.  I didn’t know how much I would use the tub, I figured the Hypnobirthing would make me so peaceful I might not want to move.

Hypnobirthing was a technique I discovered in my research which allows you to self-hypnotize during the birth process and thereby relax and let the baby come down and out with minimal resistance.  I was keen because I wanted to be as gentle with my body and heart as possible and I knew that relaxation was key.   Thus, Tobias and I attended our classes and practiced our mantras, found our anchoring scents, and effleurage for weeks.  I think we could have implemented it even more if we had focused more intently but the work we did do came in very handy.

I painted a mandala a day or two before Espen’s birth.  It was exactly 9cm in diameter, the size of full dilation, to help me focus on the objective in a colorful and harmonious picture.  I wrote the words “Trust” “Body” “Open” and “Relax” on the four sides to hone my energy.

The day of the birth we cast my belly in plaster and frisked around in the unseasonably warm March sunshine.  We had gone on a walk and I had the feeling of opening, but that had been happening for a couple weeks…kind of like I’d been kicked in the groin, that dull ache that you know means something.

That’s how it all started, just longer and closer moments of the body compressing and pushing itself open.  There was nothing shocking or lightening like about it, just an inexorable movement that I knew was going to make a pathway for Espen to come topside.

As time progressed and the Waning Gibbous moon rose, exactly the opposite of his conception, I started locking into a deep awareness of my breathing…in through the nose, deeply, slowly, then out through the nose or mouth depending on the surge and its needs. 

The water was a wonderful sanctuary to live in during the progression.  Warmth and buoyancy let me develop a rhythm to meet the surges. Breathe in through the nose and drop the body down, exhale through the mouth and ride the wave back to the surface.  Amazing.  It was utterly undeniable.  I realize early that the choices were two fold.  Resist or surrender.  Either way, the outcome would be the same.  I was curious what surrender would yield as we westerners already hold a societal paradigm of resistance around birth.

During the whole process I was able to maintain a space in the corner of my brain where I could observe and marvel at the power of my body and Espen’s working together towards birth.  Marvel is the necessary word because nothing compares with the experience of giving birth.  If I had been drugged or surrounded by people and machines and noise, I would not have been able to witness birth so fully.  I felt like I was awake and THERE for the whole thing from start to finish, firmly in the seat of honor while The Bear made his way into the world.

I simply could not have imagined anything well enough to give me a visceral sense of how the body roars and stretches, how it continues and soars with a surety that is completely innate.  I could not have guessed how capable and calm my body would be while attending to its work. 

Espen and I communicated during the birth. I talked to him and told him that I absolutely agreed to being his mother and that it was good and safe for him to arrive.  He knew.  He kept advancing slowly and certainly, the midwife confirming that things were going well.  I wanted him to be born into a peaceful environment with no scary sounds of mom screaming bloody murder if I could help it.  Instead of yelling, I channeled the intensity into these deep earth mother sounds that felt like sound waves rolling out through the water carrying the surges to light.

Near the end, the surges seemed to be calming down a bit but we knew it had to be soon.  That was the only moment where I thought for a second, “Oh don’t stop! Let’s finish what we started!”  I had sung to Espen through surges, bounced on the exercise ball, stood in the shower, leaned over the bed and walked up and down the floor.  Every one was different and wanted to be greeted in its own unique way.  It was up to me to decide how to meet it.  The only time I failed to come up with a greeting was the only surge that got away from me and I understood how women can be shocked by the ferocity of birth.  It is a wild horse that knows how to run and buck and rely on pure instinct.  If you chose to run from it, you will be trampled.  If you meet it head on and let your body meld with it, you’ll find a way to ride it home.

Around the moments of bodily exhaustion and that breaking point of knowing how close you are to expiration, I reached down to see if anything was actually happening and I felt Espen’s hair.  His HAIR.  It didn’t occur to me until the midwife brought a mirror and I could see his dark mop just starting to peek out. All I could think was that we were touching on the outside as well as the inside.  We were as close and engaged physically as we ever could or would be again.  The awe completely possessed me, it does still when I remember the sense of being completely wrapped up and around another spirit. 

The next five surges almost felt incidental once I knew Espen was real and he was coming to stay.  Tobias was there every step of the way, rubbing my back, getting water, just letting me rest on him and staying incredibly present to my constantly shifting needs as I followed my body towards Espen’s birth. 

One aspect I do recall was in the final surges, my body felt as though it was stretching to the point of eruption.  Somewhere in my head the Johnny Cash song Ring of Fire was playing faintly and I had to giggle.  With another surge, he head came free and we all rested for a moment, all of us with eyes closed.  When his body followed on the next surge it was like heaving a huge sigh.  The endorphines are there making everything just flow.  It all seems so completely obvious. Take the baby in your hands, let it uncurl in the water, bring it up to your chest.  Stare.

Espen lay peacefully on my chest just breathing, pinking up from his lovely blueberry color and looking at us.  My body did this. Our bodies. Incredible. 

Sorry guys, I know birth has been made out to be a woman's curse and all, but it's a lie.  You've been lied to by a bunch of women who want to keep the utter power and magic of childbirth to themselves. Being fully conscious and aware during the whole ride from conception to birth was the most impressive thing I can imagine doing with my body and spirit and will.  There's just no way anything could be more possessing and complete for me and I'd imagine that any woman who has gone through the process, assisted or not, drugged or not, in the woods or the hospital can attest to the fact that it is unlike any other rite on earth. It is pure feminine awesomeness and absolute co-creation.

For the joy

Joy was not an experience that had much room to flourish in my childhood.  The sense of being connected to what amounts to the good graces of god was always just out of reach.  Salvation was touted as free but we ought not forget that we were wretched sinners without it.  Grace, it seemed was something to speak of, but never indulge in for more than the fleetest of moments.  It might make you proud.  It could cause cockiness that could lead to being deceived by the wickedly clever, ever vigilant, satan.  And just because it was free, didn't mean it was for keeps. You could always loose salvation if you weren't One Step Ahead Of Temptation.

As a result of this rather contradictory and might I suggest, stressful, ideology, relaxing and just resting in the alrightness of being is something I actively strive to heal towards to this day.  Fear and anxiety are the underpinnings of my foundational values and they are ones I do not want to pass on to my child(ren).

When I look at Espen's face, enraptured with some texture, taste, or simply looking at me, I want to protect and nourish that more than anything.  I can tell that he believes he is loved and ok with every fiber of his limitless spirit, and it gives me hope.  It also raises the anxiety levels that I will, at some point, imprint on him some of the residual edginess that I inherited from a long line of worriers and soul-searchers.  In the meantime, I am continuing my work of releasing the fear and anxiety that was infused into my cells and sending it into the earth to be cleansed and returned to its pure, undefined, unjudgemental state so it can be used to heal instead of harm.

It is my greatest wish to simply and completely rest in the is-ness of life. Even if just for moments at a time, I believe in my heart of hearts that the look on my son's face is how we are all meant to feel about our place and our safety in being incarnated, regardless of what we experience physically or are told.  So, Espen, when you get old enough to read this, I want you to ask yourself if I helped you continue to feel safe in the world as you.  I hope that the answer is yes, and if it is not, that we both have the grace and courage to continue learning and growing towards it.

What To Do In Case of A Parent Crisis-(not for the faint of stomach)

I'm gonna level with you. Most of the time being the parent of a baby involves making snap decisions when you're out and about on how to meet the needs of a tired, hungry (insert more needs here) baby.

For example, it's two hours since Espen's last nap and we're at least another 45 minutes away from bed. He's showing great signs of being ready for his nap NOW.  Keep in mind that this window of Nap Necessity Now is anywhere from 1.5-4 hours after waking from last nap.

Do you:
(a) Stop everything you're doing, throw everyone in the car and race for home.
(b) Strap on the baby carrier and quickly come up with something you can do in that exact area that will take about an hour so he can nap on the fly.
(c) Try to coax him into a second wind by dangling toys, other babies, blueberries or pieces of paper in front of him.
(d) None of the above. He is a baby and you have stuff to do.

I never end up choosing d, which, while I may congratulate myself on being a good parent for eschewing, often makes outings an engrossing game of "Guess what will work THIS time!"

Mostly, the Unknown Solution is the biggest thing I have to contend with getting right aside from any post-partum or seasonal symptoms that demand scraps of attention now and again.  Rarely do my physical needs trump the baby's.  Except for today.

I was feeling pretty great despite having missed the memo that baby sign language class was cancelled and driving across town.  I bought a pair of Babylegs instead (no, not on the black market along with a new kidney) and headed to Harlow for a nurturing smoothie of kale, cucumber, cilantro and many other green things I'd not normally eat one at a time.  Can you guess where this is going? I couldn't.

Now, magically, another mom had shown up at the cancelled class at the same time I did and she had news. The Biggest Baby Stuff Sale of the Year was happening TODAY on my route home. Alright. There's the plan. Feed Espen his bottle, feed mom her smoothie, hit the baby sale and home...all within the window of Appropriate Awake Time.

Normally, I get the Tempest smoothie which is creamy with avocados and dates and nice things like that. Today however, since I am trying to sort out my allergy like symptoms of the last month and a half, I opted for the Rita, comprised of the vegetables listed above. It was not delicious and creamy like my usual, but it tasted damn healthy so I carefully sipped it down as we headed to the sale.

You know those Spirit halloween stores that take over vacant strip mall storefronts during the Fall? This sale was like that.  It was a pop-up, four-day only take over of some non-descript shop on King Road that just happened to be Filled to Bursting with moms sporting Ergo babies, tattoos, and kids dressed like retro pumpkins and pageant princesses. Espen and I did not stand out.

What did stand out was the rumble that hit me somewhere below the belly button and above my knees as I poked around plastic tubs with a variety of reclining options for baby.  Espen looked at me, his cheeks pink with excitement and sleepiness.  He cooed.  My guts roared back.  This was not the kind of place that has restrooms. The line wrapped around the store. Children screamed. I made a decision of pure panic.

We fled.

I've never gotten that kid in his car seat so fast in his life. He's never submitted that easily either.  Some part of him must have known that now it was Mom's Time.

Normally he'll cry and squawk when he is tired.  Normally, I drive like a sane person.

Today there was no speed limit I would not ignore, no old lady I would not swerve around.  There was no multiple choice to contend with, only Pure Action. I contemplated trying to fit one of Espen's diapers on in case Something Unstoppable Happened.

The gas gauge light flipped on.

I wasn't about to stop.  In times like this, you just figure that if you run out of gas or get pulled over, only blinding honesty will do. I had to make a run for home or a tree for all I was worth.

Meanwhile, Espen was being quiet as a mouse.  I thanked him during a moment of intestinal reprieve. I knew it wouldn't last long and in that fifteen seconds of peace, I was feeling guilty. He took it gracefully and silently. I didn't have the mental or physical space to REALLY appreciate this.

Hunched over the wheel, breathing a silent curse, I somehow managed to careen into the driveway, throw on the emergency brake, shift into neutral and race to the loo just in the nick of time.

When I returned to the still running vehicle with my baby inside, hoping that Espen hadn't been crying, I could only gape.  There he was, sleeping like an angel.

This never happens in his car seat without extreme protest.  Except, it would seem, when mom is about to loose her cookies, and every other healthy thing she's ingested in the last hour. Perhaps I'm on to something here...

The sly little scoundrel and the evolution of the complete human

Well, the last month has been full of growth for both baby and parent, so much so, that getting to a computer to write about it has been an impossibility.  

I was telling Tobias my theory yesterday that becoming a new parent is essentially the equivalent of going through special forces training.  You brave an intense regimen of sleep deprivation, emotional and physical breakdown and reassembly and if you can find a way to psychologically readjust your expectations for what is humanly possible, you'll come out a superhuman.  

That said, Espen is also in the process of achieving remarkable things, such as getting his first two teeth, sitting up unassisted, and moving from an effective army crawl to teetering on the brink of an evolved, big-boy crawl.  He  has also moved into his own room, started making pre-verbal "Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba!" sounds and eating from his own little bowl. He loves hummus and finds pear skin distasteful.

I also, have been personally stretching.  The last month+ has been a whirlwind of soul searching around family of origin topics which, on some level, contributed to a whopping case of allergic reactions such as my body has never seen.  Sneezing! Itching face! Plugged ears! Overall fuzziness!  It wasn't the nifedipine I was taking for breastfeeding, nor was it the chinese herbs I started taking to boost my immune system, because I quit them all to give myself a clean slate to work from and I was STILL yarking and feeling like the walking dead.  This is no good when you have a baby who is ready to take on world domination no later than 6.30am every morning.

By that point, I was crawling up the walls with the dripping down my throat. Then I remembered that I hadn't looked up the metaphysical/energetic root/cause of allergies.  What I found. -Denying your own power...what or who are you allergic to?  It was obvious to me there was/is a tie between the family work I'd been doing and the symptoms my body was producing so I did some close examination around things I needed clarification on and had some very illuminating conversations with my parents.  My symptoms have been less severe since then and I am hopeful that as I continue to speak my truth and stand in my power and heal the wounds from the past, my amazing body will continue to get stronger.

All this to say, we are progressing in leaps and bounds here at the the Eld-Mathis household.  Coming up on the horizon next week, Tobias leaves for a work trip for ONE WHOLE WEEK, which will be the first time he's been away from us that long.  We will see how things go and I am pretty sure The Bear and I will have some fantastic stories to tell him when he returns. Perhaps some new tongue tricks since Espen has started sticking his tongue out at EVERYTHING and EVERYONE as a new was to taste the world and say, "Hello!" (lick).  Hello indeed.

Five months and counting...

Clearly babies like putting things in their mouths.  The world is a tasty place.  Espen has gotten to the point now that the final resting place of anything he gets his hands on is predetermined. It doesn't matter how big or small or stone or plastic the object may be. It's goin' in the gob.

Plastic spoon? Sure. Car payment? Yum.  Hairy cat toy? Yes Please. This is how the requisite pound of dirt eaten in a lifetime begins.

The Little Bear has also discovered that he WANTS and does not appreciate being held out on, taken away from, or otherwise redirected.  That zucchini the size of him is what he's interested and darn you to heck if you try to pry his lips off of it and give him a teething ring instead. I know how he feels.  After all, who doesn't like gumming an elephant squash.

Making sure he doesn't ingest biohazards and/or colonies of wasps is pretty much a full time job and I can only wonder how I'll develop the necessary cunning to keep up with him when he starts crawling.  Rolling over and scooting about on his tummy is tricky enough. Somehow, I do believe he will live to see twenty in spite of his grandiose oral aspirations...call it ignorant optimism, but that's what you need to think that things like "Discovering a New World" and "Raising A Baby" are a cinch.

Tasting, tasting, 1, 2, 3...

On Saturday, August 24, year of our lord 2013, Espen Camino Eld Mathis tasted his first carrot, cucumber and kale.

It was a day of hard "K" and easy gumming at the fine organic/vegan/gluten free cafe' Harlow on 36th and Hawthorne.

After reaching, pawing, and grabbing for edibles with great conviction for the last two months, we placed the Holy Kale in his paws to see what would happen.



The carrot and cucumber were equally magical, though when I had to fish out a piece of his carrot shaving from his mouth, he was less than euphoric.

I'm pretty certain he doesn't know how to chew or swallow yet, but he's ready to give it a whirl.

Behold, Espen, on the cusp of solid food. Majesty. Glory. Magic.

He grabs his toes and hates naps

I am writing this now listening to my astrological profile while listening to The Bear protest against his nap which he very clearly needs.

Yesterday he learned how to grab his toes and has been obsessively kicking his feet, grabbing them, and looking very pleased with himself.  There are so many things changing these days, so many new skills and milestones that it's no wonder sleep seems like the last thing he would want to do.

On top of that, he's also rearing and bucking around alot with nursing throughout the day...and forgetting to let go of my boob.  This is sort of like having a chinese torture chamber on your nipple that refuses to let go.  When the gravity of his head finally pulls him off, I swear you can hear the 'pop'. True.

Days like today remind me that sometimes the line between pleasure and pain is very fine indeed.  It is good to remind myself that I am in a situation entirely because of my actions so whether I enjoy the result or not, it is up to me to make more of the same or try something different.

The traction we had gained in easier bedtimes has been lost in the trauma of naptime and nothing really seems to be working consistently. I have tried to stick to an "Every two hours from when he wakes" schedule, but unless I want to let him cry for an hour straight, that philosophy doesn't always work.  Then we end up in an endless spiral of waiting an hour and trying again to see if he'll go for it this time.  Add that on top of a distractible eater and well, it could make the days abit, ahem, challenging.

Oh, The Bear loves being awake and playing, it's just the going down for naps and eating that he's not too keen on.  So right now, it looks like the sleepless starvation philosophy is what The Bear prefers. Unfortunately, I've got the dubious task of helping him discover the art of compromise. So far what we have landed on is 10-20 minutes of crying unless he miraculously passes out on the boob at one of the lucky feeding sessions that last longer than ten minutes.

As all good parents know, and to be honest, I'm starting to think that anyone who doesn't swear and cry  at their children are good parents, we just want our kids to have as gentle an experience of life as possible.  Some days this seems much closer than others.  Still, when Espen flashes his "MOM, you RESCUED me!" smile, I just want to keep him awake and feed him on sunshine as long as he wants. Lordy Lord.

My baby is awesome (er than all the rest)

Ok, moms out there know what I'm talking about. Dads too. We're all pretty sure our baby is the Supreme Incarnation of All That Is Amazing and Good.

But mine really is.  He has so much hair he makes boy bands look sad.  He giggles at four am when I pick him up in a dead cry and then chuckles contentedly to himself as I hold him.

He has dance moves that Michael Jackson would be jealous of.
He hates hats and isn't afraid to let you know.

He can lift whole baskets of toys BY HIMSELF.

He is cute with and without clothes on.

His poop even smells sweet.

So come on other parents out there. Let's see what your baby has.  I don't want to be elitist and sit on this Mt. My Babe Is FUCKING RAD alone. Do your worst. Or best.

But don't say I didn't warn you about the steep competition.

The Bear is on the Adwarable Path and he's taking names.

To Cry It Out or Not To Cry It Out-The First Test of Parental Mettle

One word. Hyphenated. Sleep-Deprivation.  One question. What to do?  A thousand answers. Cry it out! Gradual Extinction! No-cry method! Just hang tight!

Scenario.
The Bear is tired. He has red eyes. He rubs them. He stares into space. He tosses. Bucks.  Cries. And cannot sleep when you lay him down. Nursing to sleep is ok until his Moro reflex kicks in 30-45 minutes after Shut Down and it's SPREAD EAGLE ALERT! FALLING! FALLING! MUST. GRAB. SOMETHING. TO. ARREST. FALL.

Sleep over. Reset. Begin again. Boob please mom.

Sleeping arrangements up to week 14 had been pretty standard. Dad and Bear in one room. Mom in the other. Why? Mom can't nurse at night because it hurts too bad and can't sleep in same room as Bear and Dad because she wakes up at every rustle and jostle. SO. It's fractured, for sure, so when the build up to Jackie's wedding starts and the company arrives with it, we all move into the big bed together.

Situation unfolds as follows.
Mom sleeps next to Bear. Dad sleeps next to mom. Bear, as is his custom, squirms about in his sleep from time to time. Mom offers the boob as a comfort nursing gesture. Bear, ever the gentleman, accepts.  Soon it is customary for the Bear to wake up every hour or two, demanding the boob, as is his new-found right.  Cries if boob is not forthcoming. Sleep deprivation returns to the farm.

Mom tries to cut back on the boob at night. Bear is unimpressed and demonstrates this by crying loudly.

What to do.

Around this time, Dad has his first business trip to Wisconsin, leaving Mom and The Bear to test the waters.  Mom doesn't sleep much, and now The Bear is uninterested in napping without some serious persuasion. Now everyone is sleepy, cranky and beside themselves. Mom researches how to get on a sleep schedule and opts for the No-cry method which involves picking up the baby and soothing them every time they cry when being put down for bed.  This takes weeks however, and they will both be complete zombies by then so she opts for the lying next to The Bear while he works it out.

The Bear shows his feelings over this method by crying for nearly two hours before winding down and passing out.  Much of this crying seems to say, "What the HELL mom?! You're RIGHT THERE. I'm CRYING. DO something!" Mom was not expecting this kind of stamina.

Next night, same story, 15 minutes less crying. That's still a LOT of crying. Mom is starting to feel like a bad parent, despite patting, cooing, and speaking gently to The Bear as he works towards sleep. By the third and fourth night when dad returns, she is broken.

Just pick the baby up. Do whatever it takes. Just. Make. The. Crying. Cease.

Trouble is, they're back to spending hours getting the Bear to sleep again and it's making everyone batty.

Still, we do not want to Permanently Scar The Bear's Spirit For Life by allowing him to cry unchecked just because we, selfish parents, want some sleep stretches of more than 2 hours.

We consult the experts. Read books. Obsess over the internet. Log sleep. Realize the Bear does not prefer having someone there if they aren't going to soothe him. After agonizing and debating and bar graphing and consulting astrology cafe's we decide to do the graduated checks. Starting Friday. As in, two nights from now.

I'm telling you. Being a parent in the stages of laying groundwork for your child's long term success is hard when they doth protest much.

Somehow, over a glass of wine and chickens jumping on our table, Tobi and I realized that we are parents to our baby. Not friends. We are there to provide respectful structure, stability, love and support. Buddydom can come later, but we are the ones who have to make the choices that our children may cry about in the beginning, but, hopefully, thank us for later...or at least forget that they cried for several nights because of it.

Either way, here's hoping we  all get some consistent sleep soon and that we're all closer because of it.

Nicknames of The Bear

Kid, you got a mom that looooves words, particularly around designating YOU.

1. The Bear
2. Beartomous
3. Beartolomeo
4. Espenoza
5. Esp
6. Bearracuda
7. Little Scoundrel (and derivatives thereof...Scound etc)
8. Captain Bear Ginger Hair
9. Wah-Oo Milk Howler
10. Chickachow, Chicks
11. Baboo, Babs
12. Bubbaloo, Bub, Bubs
13. Bearly
14. Little Turkey
15. Munch, Munchy
16. Smoosh
17. Big Legs
18. Big E. Big
19. Bigs
20. Tig

Fourth Trimesters and The Rise of Mr. Bigs

Oh Espen! You are getting so big! Your personality is coming out more and more every day and man, is it fun to watch.  Just LOOK at you yaawwwning at the camera, staring at the camera, having sleepy face, and funning around naked in the grasses on sheepskin like a little Pan.  

You are generally a happy little dude unless there is something you NEED...FOOD! NAPS! CHANGING!  We've had a lot of fun figuring out how to give you what you're asking for, though if you feel like something traumatizing happened in early infancy it probably revolved around having to wait several minutes for milk while your dad stumbled around the kitchen at 2am. Sorry about that.

You have absolutely LOOOVED standing on your legs since about the second or third week, leading me to nickname you Mr. Big Legs.  This is one of your favorite games and a pretty surefire way to get you happy in the midst of meltdowns.  "Bear Big Legs" is becoming a popular reference around the property and we have documented proof that grandpa is helping you with the process. Grandma too.

And what is this? You're starting to discover how flipping RAD HANDS ARE.  Particularly around your long haired aunties.

I must admit, you grow more complex and engaged every day and I am completely enamored with your consciousness.  Such a little individual comes through with your interactions and it is clear that you are fascinated by the world around you and all its wonders.

A few fun facts about your first three months are:

1. You loved "Jumping Bean" for the first couple of weeks. It would stop you crying in your tracks.

2.  You developed an unstoppable loathing for your carseat. LOATHING. Stupid Car Seat. Hence, you now have your own driving song called "The Bear Boogie" which makes you smile and fall asleep about 90% of the time.

3. You love baths and stomping around the water with me.  You don't mind putting your ears under only get upset when it's time to get out, which has resulted in the awesome appearances of 

4. The "Scoundrel In the Mirror." He always elicits a smile and a look of intense curiosity from you.  

5. You want to SEE the world and not be tucked away in some carrier.  Unless you are sleepy. Then it's fine. But WOE UNTO YE if you try to Put The Bear In A Carrier when he wants to Engage With the World. Moby? Screw you. Fancy Saturday Market Carrier? No thanks.  Ergo Baby?  Maybs. 

6. You TALK!  Since very early, like the first three weeks, you've been staring deeply into our eyes and "Go-ing" and "Ahh Ohhhh-ing!" with great feeling. It's adorable and also clear that you have a lot to tell us! Exciting!

The first three weeks and some useful details

Tobias and I assumed that having a beautiful birth was the Great Goal to Be Achieved.  We figured that everything AFTER the birth would come as naturally as breathing, albeit with some sleepless nights to guide us on our Path to Parenthood.  We asked some questions in our midwife appointments like, "Is there anything essential we need to have or know before the Coming of The Bear?" and would walk away feeling like "It'll come naturally and be fine" were good foreshadowing answers to the ease with which our trajectory of Awesome Hippie Parents would continue after birth.

Espen,  for the record, the first three weeks have been pretty rife with fascinating challenges.  Also for the record, we've all been fairly awesome about them.  I wanted to write them down as factually as possible so you'd have an adult reference point if you should ever want to compare notes.  And now, without further ado, the facts, sir.

From the beginning, you were an eager latcher, going straight for the breast with natural ease.  By day two, my nipples were cracked and bleeding and there were many feedings that were so painful I was crying as I fed you.  This, we figured, was not quite the blissful breastfeeding picture which had been painted for us by our advisors.

Joy, our midwife, suggested a possible tongue-tie, which is when your frenum is attached so as to make it difficult to fully roll back the upper lip and/or tongue.  We spent the next day trying to ascertain where and how your upper frenum was attaching and came to the conclusion that it was well within the short category.  This apparently causes discomfort with breast-feeding because a baby can't open their mouth all the way to get a proper latch...it can also cause speech issues and digestive issues later on so we were keen to get it resolved.


The procedure is a simple and quick one involving a snip of the frenum which takes a second and doesn't bleed much and heals quickly.  Joy had performed several of these procedures and had consulted a specialist so we felt that a quick snip at home would be the most comfortable option for you.  We did that on Wednesday, day 3, for you.  I did Reiki on you and Danielle did cranio-sacral massage on you and you cried for about a minute, while Joy was holding the ice on your lip after the snip.  We expected that things would even out with the breast feeding after that, but we scheduled an appointment with the specialist, Bobak Ghaheri, for Friday (day 5) just to make sure we had completely addressed any potential tongue-tie issues.

That was our first outing from the house, which, you can be the judge of, in terms of how you like that, or what significance, if any, it may have.  I personally thought it was a little ridiculous but what can you do. We were at the end of our babymoon and we wanted to be able to breast feed, since by that point, I had started pumping to give my breasts a chance to heal but still keep you on the nipple juice.

Dr. Ghaheri asked me a few questions about breast feeding, like, "How does it feel?" and "How do your nipples look after a feeding?", checked inside your mouth, and said with no hesitation, "It's an upper and sub-lingual tongue tie."  He showed us how it looked inside your mouth and explained that tongue tie is far more common than most people suspect, in fact, his own daughter had been tongue tied.

The procedure he suggested, was using a laser to cut the frenums, which was a quick procedure, 1-2 minutes and would bleed minimally.  We felt confident that this was the best route to take as it was quick and as painless as possible...and then found out that we were not allowed in the room during the procedure because of OSHA rules (some medical governance body who probably doesn't want anxious, hovering parents getting in the way of doctors trying to work).  We didn't like that idea at all, but Joy, our fearless midwife, who came with us, asked if she could go with you and after checking, Dr. Ghaheri said that was within the guidelines.

Veering from the facts for a moment, I must confess, this was still a very heart-wrenching call, especially since we had to sit two doors down and just wait for about 7 minutes until we heard you wail and then a minute or two later, Joy came barreling into the room with you in here arms.  Good lord.  You got boob immediately and settled right down into a deep nap.

The follow up for the procedure involved us having to roll a finger back and forth over the wound sites 4-6 times per day for three weeks so the frenums wouldn't re-attach and the tissue would stay flexible.  Again, there are many things we would have preferred to give you 4-6 times a day besides putting our hands in your mouth and making you squirm. At the writing of this, we still have one week to go with the rolling and your lip and tongue have healed up nicely.  Now we are focusing on doing exercises to build your mouth strength and feeding you with our fingers and baby straws/re-introducing you to regular breast-feeding.  You've gotten mom juice the whole time so while the delivery system has varied over the last three weeks, the product has been 100% organic, made for you, food.

Now we are at the point where we are about 80% on finger feeding and 20% breast-feeding.  I'll be doing herbal supplementation to help the process along and I am very hopeful that we will be able to get to 100% breast-feeding...but either way, we're confident that you are getting the love and nutrition you need to thrive so regardless of how it all ends up looking, you're in good hands kiddo.

Week 41- Go Time and the Easter Bear Birth Story

Saturday, Tobias and I decided to eat at the Carver Cafe for breakfast and do a belly cast.  We've determined that the Bear is on his own schedule now and we will content ourselves with being patient and having some fun while waiting....the day could not have been more gorgeous...sunny, warm, like summertime.  We raked leaves into the burn pile, Tobi played around with the "jet pack", clearing an area for the compost and around the fire pit and we soaked in the goodness...good thing we did because that night, Easter Eve, the surges started becoming regular around 10.30pm.

I was content to bounce on the birthing ball and watch episodes of Smash and Glee and Once Upon A Time and just observe how the rushes felt...not uncomfortable, just tightening.

Around 4.30am we called Joy and said, "Probably come now.  We're about 4 minutes apart."  Over she and Danielle rolled and from that point on, the show was up and running.  The tub filled, the surges became more regular and intense, and the Bear, Tobi and I were on the adventure of a lifetime.  I plan on writing about this specifically in more depth, but for right now, I will simply say, it was an initiation on the most primal level.  There is no ceremony, no words, no incantations I have experienced or heard about, which touch the complete submersion of mind into body driven by soul.

To speak simply of the physical sensations would be unidimensional but I understand how it can be the focal point of cultural stories and popular belief.  They are total in their manifestation in the body. You can hypnotize yourself, yell through it, breathe through it or knock yourself out, but your body is still going to go through the monumental process of opening itself and shifting bone, muscle and sinew to create a passage for new life.  It is nature at its most instinctual. What you get to decide is how you aim to participate in the unfolding...

Surfing monster waves is a metaphor that comes to mind. You either catch the wave and ride it or it rides you and can drive you into the ocean floor or shoot you into the sky.  I grew up riding some pretty feisty horses and I can tell you that birth puts them all in the circus pony ring.

At 12.30pm on Easter Sunday, Espen Camino Eld-Mathis emerged, under water, in our bedroom, to a day that was bright, warm and filled with a flood of fulfillment.  The last ten months, all leading up to this moment...you uncurled under water in Tobias' hands, a delightful blueberry color, and after 10 or 15 seconds, we brought you into the air and right onto my chest where you opened your eyes and just STARED at us as you started to breathe. Again, this is something you can only know the full measure of if you experience it directly.  It's incredible. It's a titanic effort.  It's completely unbelievable.

One of the things I am most grateful for is that we were able to give you such a peaceful, conscious entry into the world.  I was never drugged, never screaming and able to completely engage in talking to you during the entire process.  We worked together to bring you into the world and the teamwork was powerful.  There was a moment near the end, when I reached down and felt the top of your head at the opening between inner world and outer world...talk about a game changer!  Tobias and I just stared at each other in disbelief and kept saying, "We're really having a baby! This is The Bear!"...as if all the rushes and body rocking up to this point had been for some other reason!

Needless to say, when you emerged, we were completely overjoyed and exhausted and the midwives bundled us into bed with you still attached to your cord.  We kept you attached for three hours to make sure you got all the good blood and nutrients you could and then I cut our cord myself after thanking you for the time and space we had shared for the last ten months and you became fully embodied as YOU as we held you in our arms.

You weighed 8 pounds and 13 ounces and were 21.5 inches long with a complete head of dark hair. So flipping cute!  Tobias and I are completely in love with you and within minutes, you were sucking your thumb and had latched on to nurse.

Our adventure is just beginning Bear, and I hope you like the spelling of your name.  Tobi and I had many debates about it being Esben or Espen and the reason we chose the latter is because it is easier for English speakers to get the sound right...oh the things to keep in mind when you are an international kid!

Of course we're having all the magical things done too, like determining your Card of Destiny, having your astrology chart read, chinese animal and mayan calendar animal...so you should be set for World Fluency in no time...