Birthday

Bowie’s third trip around the sun is complete. He will never be 2 again. I feel wonder, sadness, and joy as he grows.

Here he was just moments after his birth. How can that little soft thing (8.5 pounds, 22.5 inches) be my same little man?


Last night after escargot, crab claws, artichoke and roasted carrots (menu created by Bowie) we had cake and watched the video of Bowie’s birth. My friend Kendal had been with us and wonderfully was able to capture that brief, intense time for us. We have watched it every year. This was the first time that Bowie was able to really respond to it. He was obviously excited, asking questions, and covering his smiling, amazed mouth in rare self consciousness. I suspect that there will be a time when he chooses not to watch this with us. But I hope that he will carry this knowledge about life and love around until he does wish to see it again. I know I must have asked my mother 100s of questions about being born. This morning Bowie woke up saying, “I was born in this house.” Oh my. I can never move, can I? This feels like a sacred place to me.

I remember behind me, the door to our backyard open. The sun setting. My being growling and groaning and moaning, “Mama!” “Come!” “Push!” in the dark, quiet ring of family and friends.

My voice immediately soft and sweet as I welcomed Bowie to my breasts. His little bottom in my hand, I felt before I saw that he was the boy I had been expecting. I had never doubted my instincts but it was still a wonderful surprise.

Our dog, Tuba, right there with her little nose peering over the edge of the tub to witness this family event.

My mother, on her birthday, cutting the umbilical cord after it stopped pulsing.

Chris, who had never carried a baby before, effortlessly cradling Bowie with one arm, a born father.

My sister feeding me homemade lasagna once we moved to our bedroom. Her daughter, just one, on our bed petting her new cousin.

The doula standing outside the shower, handing me shampoo and comb, wrapping me in a towel. I felt so cared for. Hours later, after the examinations and they started up the laundry, 1am, I walked them to the door swaying with my swaddled son in my arms, to say goodbye. They smiled and said it looked like we had always been a family, like this is always the way it had been. Angels. They are angels.

Chris and I giggling as we were left alone in our home. Life forever changed.

Awesome. Not in the 80s way, but in the truest sense of the word. Completely awesome. And it has been ever since…

Birthing Bowie

Birthing Bowie
Originally uploaded by autumn fawn

I want to tear the computer apart to find the birthstory I wrote after Bowie was born. But I really don’t want to spend tonight doing that. I want to remember being in labor. So here are some random memories I have had throughtout the day, 3 years before Bowie was born.

• Walking and walking around the neighborhood. Never making it very far. Stopping during contractions to hang in Chris’ arms.
• Folding clothes, labelling Chris’ drinking cup with the label maker, posting to my online natural childbirth group.
• Hugging my midwife, GB Khalsa when she arrived.
• Being told to watch a movie and rest. But never could. I was so angry that Chris could sleep. Furious that he could sleep. I didn’t sleep for 60 hours by the time Bowie was born.
• Rolling around on my exercise ball (which unfortunately hasn’t been used since).
• Chris filling the birthing tub with too hot water. My body was red and steaming. I wish he would write a post about managing the birthtub water temperture and level. He’s funny.


More tomorrow, Bowie’s 3rd birthday.

Wishes Afloat

This is a photo that miraculously captures the first time Bowie successfully blew the seeds off a dandelion. (Good practice for blowing out birthday cake candles!) May all your wishes come true, sweetie.

I am so thankful for my camera. I am so thankful for the chance to see these days over and over again. I think I will remember. I try to make time to reflect and absorb. But as much as it feels like I could never forget this perfect moment, this monumental achievement, I do forget. Sometimes immediately, sometimes slowly. But through these 1000s of photographs, I can go back in some way. And he can go back too. He sits in my lap and looks at these photographs and we talk about what we remember. Which I think is important both cognitively and emotionally for him. It is essential for me.

I want to share this article from the Natural Child Project. It starts:
As a parenting counselor, I often get calls from bewildered and confused parents who say, "My baby was so angelic. Then one day the "monster" came out. I did everything right. He was born peacefully, he is still nursing on demand, still sleeps next to me, and I carried him all of the time. Why is he becoming so difficult now (at age 2, 3, or 4)?"

What has happened is actually a wonderful result of a relationship of trust and a deep bonding fostered by healthy attachment. The young child trusts her parents absolutely, and in that trust she rightly assumes that they are on her side and that she is safe and welcome to spread her wings. The way young humans spread their wings, however, is not always convenient to adults.

It is not convenient when the toddler needs to play with mud, experiment with water, take things apart, exert much energy or when he needs to be watched, held, and read to for hours. Most attachment parents do accept inconveniencing with love when the child is an infant and a baby. It is not convenient when the baby drools on us, gets us wet, messes the floor with food, or wakes us up seven times a night - yet in our trust we can see that those are her needs, and in our commitment to provide attachment, we accept those needs with love and without judgment. We don't try to teach our baby to stop drooling or to stop crying for her needs to be met. The transition from helpless baby to active toddler can mislead parents into a change in approach, from one of total trust and acceptance to one of teaching and struggle.

Last week, Bowie couldn't get to sleep with Chris (who puts him to sleep 90% of the time) and asked for me. Once I laid down next to him, he immediately softened his body and put his head to mine. I remembered those early days of his life when I would watch him sleep for hours and hours, barely able to tear myself away from him. That night, after he fell asleep, I sat and looked at him with that same wonder and love. I reminded myself that he is barely more than a babe despite all his skills and knowledge.

We are all vulnerable. We all need unconditional love. We all need patience and respect. No matter how old. Especially at 2. And still at 3.

The Sword

The real sword, made out of metal (foam). He wears the scabard at all times except to sleep. It is adorable. It really is. He is being wonderfully gentle and graceful with it (though I did suffer an accidental hit to the face while getting him out of his carseat.) And he is elated. So glad I listened to him and let his joy guide me.

Bouncy House

Last night we went to the dreaded but fun Toys 'r Us to get a bouncy house for Bowie. I've always had a hard time picturing the kind of people that buy bouncy houses. It seemed so extravagant. But after paying more than $100 to rent one, we decided that as much as Bowie loved to jump, this would be a far from extravagant but rather practical purchase. We had our eye on a specific bouncy house with two slides and the websites all said that they were out of stock. So I made the calls and found ours.

We set it up in the front yard twice today! Once after returning from a fun playdate at Mayfield Park. We walked down to our neighbors house and invited them to play. Then again after Chris got home from work. There was an attempt at a family stroll but that didn't go so well, you can ask the young woman on whom's curb I sat, craddling my hysterical son pleading to return to Toys 'r Us to get a bigger sword who was clad only in striped training underwear and a scabard. And yes, we did buy the boy a sword and he has had it in his hand at every opportunity. More about this later...

Meet Motorcycle Joe

I think I have mentioned Motorcycle Joe previously, but I think he deserves a full introduction. Motorcycles are a former love of Bowie's. While his interest in the vehicles have waned, Bowie has not abandonned his very special friend, Motorcycle Joe. He lives in Africa. Is 4 years old (like Bowie, hee hee). He has 2 babies. He has a drumset like Neil Peart's (Bowie's other VERY special friend, who also happens to be the drummer for Rush). He kills Mimims with a sword and spear. He calls to talk on the phone with Bowie. He is coming to Bowie's birthday party (as is Neil Peart).

Oh, what an imagination. The photo above is Bowie walking in front of some old offices in Bertram, TX. Bowie said that Motorcycle Joe lives there.

Letters to My Son

I've just written a tearful letter to Bowie. I've been feeling a bit sad all day. Lying on my bed reading a short story collention about motherhood put me over the edge into real tears. And I pulled out paper and pen, sat at the window where he was born, and wrote. I don't know when I'll give these emotional, sporadic letters to Bowie. I just know that I feel this need to be able to share myself and share my journey as his mother with him. I envision him reading these letters, splashed with my tears, as a young man. I hope they convey how fiercely I love him. I hope they convey that I am human and on a journey.

I am just remembering a conversation I had with my mother when I was a teenager. I told her that I wanted to write letters to my children. So that I'd remember who I was before they were born, when they were little, during good times and bad, and so that they could know me, know my intentions and hopes and ideals and struggles before they grew away from me. Perhaps I was telling her that I needed to know her more. That I needed to know what being a mother was like. I wanted to know how SHE felt when I looked out the window at my beautiful, young, long haired mama hanging clothes on the line. I remembering thinking she was so beautiful and that I wanted to be a young longhaired mama too. But as a young woman I was beginning to have a glimmer of understanding that motherhood was much more complex than that.

I finished my letter to Bowie, "You made me a mama- thank you. Perhaps one day you will make another woman a mama. I want you to understand what a gift that is." And I never want to forget what a gift it is.

Swords Everywhere

A sword. This letter opener from Mexico is his sword. Every stick offers to be either a sword, a spear, or drumstick. Today he said, "I feel happy when I kill people with my sword." Gut wrenching. But I know it is in direct response to my opposite words about how I'd feel if I killed a person. So I didn't let myself go into fear and sadness when he said these things to me, when he said he was killing me with his sword. Because he never once touched me with his weapons. And seconds later his sword was magic and he'd bring me back to life. Years ago, months ago I would have been filled with fear that this exploration into weapons and violence had to be controlled or managed in some way. But now I am feeling such trust and compassion for him as he works through it. And that feels good.

Lake Tahoe

Always Drumming
Originally uploaded by autumn fawn.

I'm a mountain girl. It thrills my soul. The air gets so crisp. Driving along a clear cold river makes me hang my head out of the window.

So, I am utterly in love with Lake Tahoe. The rocks lining the lake. The snow. The snow! The round view. I just utterly loved it and daydream about my next visit...

More vacation photos here http://www.flickr.com/photos/autumnfawn/sets/72157600087702905/