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.