3 months ago little Miss Maisie took her first breath in this world. Wiggled inside of my belly one last time, and burst forth into this world. When I think about it now, it all seems surreal. Like it was someone else cursing being pregnant, uncomfortable, awkward, bigger than before. Like it was someone else sitting on that ball in our living room, breathing through contractions. Already, it seems like it wasn’t that bad.
Already a bunch of the weight of the pregnancy has melted away (I said a bunch… not all). All of you that gained 25 pounds and wore bikinis a minute after your babies… well… I am not you. But, I am in love with our little girl. Sleep, bah.. who needs it.

3 months ago, Maisie was born. I can’t say that I can pinpoint what changed. I can’t say, “yes, this is what is different”… but everything is different. I am no longer only me. I am me plus Maisie. Granted Bryce is a part of that we as well (and Franko of course) but, its something extraordinary to become more than just you. To give up yourself to be a we. Maisie is part of me. She just is. I’m not sure that will ever change.
3 months ago seems like a second ago, and a hundred years ago.

Soaking up as much as my baby girls rolls, and smiles, and bubbles and chatter as I possibly can. Not to mention shooting like crazy in between. More sessions will follow! I promise, (I am actually about 15 behind on posting, no lie)…but for now, I celebrate our little peach and her 3 months in the world.

This will all be a beautiful memory one day. Just as my pregnancy is now. Just as the delivery is now. Just as her first week is now. Just as her first month is now. Life moves on, with or without you. You don’t stay in a moment. Good or bad. You move along. Looking back along the way, over your shoulder… watching your life as you choose to remember it. If you are able to hold onto that thought in any moment… it becomes sweeter. More poignant. More precious. Everything is more precious when you realize how impermanent it really is.

I jokingly wrote to a seasoned momma Crystal “I’m hoping this newborn-no sleep thing doesn’t last forever, and that the crazy tiredness will eventually be a memory!?!!! (if it is not so, please lie to me and tell me a full nights sleep is somewhere in my future!!!!!)”

She wrote something that touched me so sweetly, she said “Don’t sweat it, it will come, and then you too, will have the precious memories of the sun rising while your sweet bundle finally crashes, hands relaxed, breathing even and bottom lip moving rhythmically while she still nurses in her dreams. The times when you forget how tired or frustrated you are and revel in the magic.
Enjoy, Erin, and remember you aren’t necessarily missing out by not having that perfect sleeper of a baby.”

It got me. In 2 months, a year, ten years… I will remember this time in our lives, as Crystal does and miss it. Likely miss it more than I know how to control. When Maisie starts to walk, when she is dressing herself, or when she no longer wants to cuddle with me. I’ll remember when I used to rock her to sleep in the middle of the night with her swaddled up tightly in my arms, kissing her perfect little face over and over. We’ve all heard it a million times, especially with kids. “It goes so fast”. I know this. I am all “live in the moment” but, I wasn’t really. I mean, I was living in ‘moments’… mainly good ones, but not all of them. Today I tried to consciously live in all of them.

I’m grateful that I’ve had this awakening now… and not regretfully in five years, wondering where all the time has all gone. I’ll likely have moments, hours, days, where I forget… but hopefully I’ll be able to soak it all along the way (and thankfully I’ll have a little help from countless photographs as well).

Here are two of my favorites of our little girl over the past few weeks.

When you become someone’s mom, you instantly understand why she worried so much. Why she cared so much. Why she cried when you hurt yourself, or worse.. when you hurt someone else. Why she missed you when you flew away on airplanes to chase dreams on cruise ships. Why she was proud. Why she laughed at your lame jokes, why she bragged about your ‘sports award’ in grade 4, and why she was so upset when you died your hair, got tattoos, crashed cars, drank too much, acted wildly. You immediately understand why it hurt so much when you told her “I hate you, I wish you weren’t my mom” when you were little (or not so little).

Everything makes sense. You wish you maybe had realized what being a mom to someone really meant a whole lot sooner, and maybe could have been a bit easier on your own mom along the way. You may have hugged her more and been more patient. You might think about the years of her life she gave up, so you could be a healthy, loving, kind human being. You may think about how her body would never be the same, all because she wanted to give you life. You may even think about her sleepless nights feeding you, loving you, singing and rocking you back to sleep. You might think about what she sacrificed, now that you’ve made some of the same sacrifices. You may understand that she really doesn’t want anything in the world more, than for you to have the most magic life you could ever imagine. You may feel like mothers day is not just another day. It may be a reminder for you to take a moment and do some thinking, and remembering and honoring.

I’m not sure if its the same for everyone. But for me, this little being has rocked the very core of my being into remembering that I didn’t just magically appear here on earth.

My mom brought me here. Aches, pains, labor, delivery, growth charts, doctors visits, sleepless nights. She made me. Raised me. Taught me to see beauty, everywhere. Infused my soul with a deep appreciation for life, for love and instilled the most important trait of all in me… compassion. I didn’t just magically arrive here. In fact, I’m pretty sure without her… I would have never even existed. All of this means a whole lot more now that I look over and see my own little girl sleeping soundly, sweetly. In fact, everything means more now.

Mom, I love you. I understand what you went through to create me, I am forever grateful.

Is there anyone that can actually accomplish this? I certainly can not. Possibly because there are a million things to do, and a million thoughts to think, and the possibility of a shower, and lunch, and trying to keep up with my business, many baby photos opps and of course… a blog that needs some tlc also, keeps me wide awake.

2 weeks ago Maisie entered the world. We did it together. All 9 pounds 13 ounces of her. Along with a rather determined momma (me) a wonderfully protective and strong daddy (Bryce), a rockstar midwife (Sheila), and a supportive cheerleader at my left side (Nurse Chris)… not to mention the wonderful Nurse Jamie who came on after Chris. It was the most profound experience of my life.

10 months of growing, and obsessing and praying, and growing more, and hormones and emotional roller coasters, and fears and worries, and eating 8 oranges a day, or having 3 baths a day because that is the only place you feel good. Of already sleepless nights due to a bladder the size of a squished snow pea. 10 months of feeling like I may be pregnant for my entire life. Of travelling down a road that you thought might be rewarding, but you had no concrete evidence of the eventual pay off.

9am on my moms birthday April 5. I am exactly one week over due. I begin to have gas pains, that are 2 minutes apart and 30 seconds long. Weird.
10am… still there… text Bryce, you should come home from Courtenay. I’m calling Sheila.
11am… I’m in our midwife office. “We’re having this baby today” she tells me. I’m looking at her like she might be lying.
11:30-2pm I’m on a exercise ball in our living room. Breathing through contractions as they become more intense, and are lasting longer.
2pm We’re checking in at the hospital. Sheila meets us there.
2-5pm Mainly spent in the shower, on a ball, the occasional sip of gatorade, Bryce spraying my back with the hot shower. I’m not talking to anyone. Except strangely to crack the occasional joke. Someone is taking photos “This can’t be good” I think. With each contraction, I’m focused on an image of Bryce holding our little girl in his arms, the sound of her crying when she comes out, the look on Bryce’s face when he sees her, Sheila putting her on my belly, I’m focused on the finish line. I’m distracting myself from the pain. Occasionally I well up with tears during a contraction when I’m thinking about Bryce with our little girl. I’m determined.
5pm I’m out of the shower, I’m making my way to the bed. We’re supposed to be at my parents for dinner at 6:00. Something tells me we won’t make it. No one knows we are at the hospital. Suddenly things become way more intense. “I might be sick” I tell Sheila. “Good girl” she tells me. I’m in the transition phase. “Maybe I need an epidural” I tell Sheila. She looks at me carefully as though trying to delicately say, “girl we don’t have time for an epidural” Little did I know I was an hour and a half away from holding our little girl. They give me some gas instead. Nurse Chris tells me gas is a little like tequila. I am instantly on board. I don’t think its doing anything, yet I’m breathing through contractions now, and not pushing anymore. Sheila and Chris say I’m getting lazy, and take away the gas.
5:30 Sheila breaks my water, and simultaneously I’m pushing. “Will it be soon?” Sheila smiles.
5:30-7:15 The pushing.
7:15 All of my visions through out my labor come true. Sheila puts Maisie on my belly. Maisie cries, everyone cries. I can’t believe it is over. I can’t believe she is here. Later seeing her in Bryce’s arms. My whole world feels more alive and vibrant than I’ve ever known. I am more in the moment than I’ve ever been. I am in awe.

Fast forward 2 weeks.
Me, sitting on the couch beside Frank. Maisie sleeping soundly in her swing. Rain falling gently outside. My whole world so much different than before.

The nights are still sleepless, but different now. Now, I’m not just clumsily stumbling to the bathroom. I’m fumbling for the light, to feed this little life. I’m still eating millions of oranges and in the bath a lot, but now all under the watchful eye of Maisie Lu. I’m still questioning everything, I’m a first time mom. The questions are endless. But, It feels good. I am grateful. I feel blessed beyond words, even with my stretch marks. They are my badges of honor. My reminder that I’ve been a part of something miraculous. I feel more love, and more fear than I’ll ever know what to do with. But its good. We’re good. Sure, a little tired but full of love. Not to mention still swarmed with hormones on my part. Oops I’m crying, woah I’m irritated, yikes I’m happy…oh boy, more tears…. but its my journey. Our journey together as a family. And to me, its damn near perfection even with all of its wild imperfections.

Be gentle on me with the lack of blogging. I’m doing my best around here. Thanks for the love.

Miss Maisie 2 weeks old.

April 5th 2010 at 7:15pm we welcomed Maisie Lucinda Cockburn into the world. She weighed 9 pounds 13 ounces. She was born on my mom’s birthday. She is named after the amazing matriarchs of both Bryce and my families. Maisie after my moms grandmother. Lucinda after Bryce’s moms grandmother. She looks like her daddy, and couldn’t possibly be any more loved.

She has her own story already, in her sweet 8 days of life. I’m a bit too fragile, to tell the story… so for now, I’ll let the images do the talking for me.
Words do nothing for this kind of love.

First moments in the world. Then first family photos. The first of many.

Immense gratitude to the ever fabulous Shannon (Auntie Thelma) for capturing images that I’d never imagined I could have of our family. oxoxxo

Absolutely no words can ever describe what it also means to me to have experienced all of this with such an amazing man. Bryce, you are my very favorite.

My parents first look at their grandbaby

Sheila. Our insanely wonderful midwife. Who led me through the birthing experience or labyrinth in such an epic way. I am beyond grateful for my beautiful birth and know that it wouldn’t have been nearly as amazing without Sheila.

Coming from a long line of blondies, Great Grannie Goodheart was thrilled and shocked to see all that dark hair!

And now… the family photo shoot in our studio. 6 days old.

Thank you Auntie Heather for forcing me to quit being lazy and create more images, and Auntie Thelma for creating these images with us! You are magic… and baby Maisie is one lucky little girl to have amazing Aunties like you in her life, already. ox

Driving home this morning from an appointment, everything was gloomy. Dark jackets pulled tightly over people scurrying to escape the rain. People waiting for busses, income tax returns and babies to be born. Windshield wipers on high speed. Puddles ruining new shoes, turning a freshly weeded garden into a pool of mud. Dark, glum and infused with a subtle scent of anticipation. But, if you close your eyes and stand under shelter, the birds are chirping as though they don’t notice. Then the most surprising gift of all… the pink cherry blossoms bursting off countless trees around town.

Instead of being consumed with they grey waiting today. I choose to notice the beautiful new pink flowers growing like they can’t see the rain.

But, thats just me.

I have a great appreciation for the vulnerability that comes along with growing a human life. Right underneath your surface is a human being. A small little creation that without you, wouldn’t exist. Little fingers, toes, eyes, ears, mouth, brain, vital organs… all growing right underneath your skin. At times it feels so surreal that all that separates this little marvel from the outside world is skin, literally.

I have a greater sensitivity towards anyone who looks “different” or is pregnant. Some people are fabulous… they just walk by and maybe give you a little wink, or knowing look, like… “I’ve been there honey, this too shall pass.” Or even looks of admiration, “You go girl”. Those are great. What I am not a giant fan of, is the gawking that goes on… or the extra weird comments that people make. Or the words like ‘growth’ or ‘massive’ or ‘huge’. I’m not sure if pregnancy makes some people uncomfortable, but there are certainly a few folks that need to enroll in some serious sensitivity training. Or rather, just say nothing. That would be helpful.

The biggest lesson I have re-learned, and will likely do countless times over the course of my lifetime is on letting go. Recently I’ve felt like this pregnancy is shedding layers of myself that I never knew I’d have to. Grieving the loss of my own childhood, my innocence, my youth even. I thought that I understood all of this before. I didn’t. I still don’t entirely. I’ve had to let go of what my body felt and looked like before. Not to mention giving it up entirely to share with another soul. If you’ve never done this, it’s likely you’ll need to before you can truly comprehend it. In a sense, you just keep letting go of anything you thought you’d ever known before.

For a while, I became consumed with ‘what ifs’ and fears. About the pregnancy and having a healthy baby, and not having stretch marks and hemorrhoids and not gaining too much weight and self image, and how others see me etc. In the last few weeks, I’ve realized that the only way to move forward in this journey is to let that all go. Honestly, just let it go. I am unable to control any of it. What good is it to worry about something that is out of your hands. Giving up control, letting go of fears and doubts and worries. Letting go of due dates and name choices and leg cramps. Letting go of this all, has resulted in a sort of spring cleaning of the soul.

The great beauty in letting go, is that it allows space for something new to take its place. I have a feeling that space will soon be filled with something much bigger than anything that was there before.

What I learned yesterday was.

When you are having a bad moment or two, reaching out to friends is actually ok. I don’t like feeling like a burden, or like I’m passing on negative vibes to a cherished friend (or two). But, sometimes it boils up and spills over in unwanted ways, so sharing can be a good thing (so long as its not every single time you chat).

The moral of my little story this morning is, there are three things I now know for sure.

#1: When having a bad day, reaching out to friends can bring you surprises in your mailbox the next morning.
#2: Homemade treats from friends taste better than any other in the world.
#3: Have a coffee, eat a cookie and count your blessings.