Passion in action

You can say anything you'd like. You can tell me you love me, or you could travel from Marsailles France (where you were involved in a karate tournament) to Livorno Italy, on buses, trains, and in taxis not speaking any French or Italian... all to meet my cruise ship as we docked for 8 hours. All to surprise me, to show me you loved me. All to spend the day together at the leaning tower of Pisa. All to create memories that I would carry with me, and to show me I was loved. You could have sent an email, letting me know you couldn't make it. I would have understood. But you didn't, you came. Now, I'll never forget the way my dad looked standing at the bottom of the gangway of the Royal Princess, red Canada jacket on, khaki pants. "Everyone wears jeans in Europe" he said. He could have just called. But instead, he came. Made the grand gesture, and now... I have that with me, always. We ate overpriced pasta, drank overpriced wine. I have the photos, videos even. It meant more than words ever would.

You can say anything you'd like. There are no rules. You can say, I love you, I'll be there, I'll fundraise, I love karate, you mean the world to me. But aren't they just words, without the actions to back them. You can say you are passionate about karate. Or you can be the President of Karate BC, you can skype for hours in conferences with very important karate people, and you can lead your karate students out into the freezing cold ocean to show them the ancient Japanese tradition on how to prepare or train the spirit, in extreme conditions. Only a passionate love for a sport will lead you into the icy cold seas. He could have just said he loved karate. Instead, you are left with a handful of karate students, inspired by a teacher who truly loves his art. Actions and words are different.

My dad has been doing karate since forever. 35 years with Karate BC. 6th degree black belt. Founder and owner of Campbell Rivers, Wado Ryu Karate Club. Tournaments, officiating, Japanese exchange students. I grew up watching my dad be passionate about his art be it, twenty years ago, doing kata on a rock bluff at my grandparents cabin at Sooke, or one month after I give birth to my first child on the shores of Campbell River, BC. Seeing him live so passionately, leads me to believe that he had a hand in inspiring me to follow my dreams and be active in them.

You can say anything you'd like, or you can do something about it.

Dream something wild, and do it. Whether its inspiring others to create art, or build a garden in Nootka sound, help someone in tough times, or be an amazing friend, love your family more, or raise thousands of dollars for charity. You could show someone how much you love them, instead of writing an email with nice words. You could stand up for yourself, and change your life. Its truly your call.

Whatever it is... do it with your whole heart. Anything is possible.

In the process of you going for your dreams, who knows, you just may inspire your daughter, your students and a few others along the way. You'll never know unless you give it a shot.

Over 20 years ago in Sooke, BC. My mom photographed my dad doing his Kata on top of a bluff. Many years later, he leads his students into the chilly water for a "Keiko" training session. Thanks Dad, for inspiring me to live my passions, follow my dreams. If you do get caught doing what you love... you may even be smiling like this.

Thoughts on sleepless nights

One thing became crystal clear to me today in regards to the newborn/infant stages of our little girls life.

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.

Mothers Day

For the first few weeks, when I even thought about my pregnancy, labor, delivery and events that followed or how much I loved Maisie...I would burst into tears. The above photo was no exception. Being a mom means loving someone so much, it actually hurts.

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.

A piece of our story.

They say that when your newborn baby sleeps, her mommy should sleep too.

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.

Maisie Lucinda enters the world.

Some call motherhood a secret club, that you can't explain... until you join. All I can say, is I get it. I know now.

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.