Spooky

Ok, this is getting weird. I suppose I'm an agnostic, with tendencies toward doubt, but something is happening with Harldur that's beginning to make me wonder if I understand much at all. This started with him on my lap a month or two back. He would fall asleep, and I'd be tired too and wanna take a nap. After securing him on my lap with pillows and bracing my arms under him and all I'd finally start to close my eyes, but the moment I nodded off, he'd rustle and wake me back up. This happened about 5 times, and I eventually gave up on sleeping. I couldn't figure out what was happening, because I sorta tested slackening my muscles, and was still conscious enough that I didn't notice any obvious drooping of an arm or anything.

I paid it no mind, but it happened again the following week. Same thing, in a slightly different position. He just would not let me slip into unconsciousness. Now I was beginning to wonder. What was he noticing? And why would he care if my muscles slackened a little anyway? This is a kid who can sleep through a raucuous family dinner at a restaurant, and napped for about half of game one of the Giants vs Braves playoffs at the ballpark. But somehow, some tiny something was setting him off in my sleepiness.

And then Dad came down to take care of him, he fell asleep sprawled across his chest, totally different position, head not supported by Dad's arms or anything, and apparently did the same thing to him! He said everytime he nodded off, Harldur fussed. 

Now this is where I can't tell if I'm indulging in groggy inventions, but it's happened two times this week...when he wasn't on my lap! I put him down in the front room, and just as I was nodding off on the couch, he started crying...and today, I put him in the co-sleeper in our bedroom and lied down on the bed, and sure enough, he cried the moment I was near sleep. Of course, part of the confusion is that I don't know if I really have "just" fallen asleep. Maybe I slept for a little while, but usually the time doesn't show it as being long, if at all.

And funny thing is, he doesn't do it at night. Is it because we're both home? Is it because he's more deeply asleep at night? Is there some kind of primitive instinct surfacing that daddy needs to remain alert to guard the cave?

He also doesn't do it with Cati, but maybe that's because she puts him to sleep during naps with a nice meal, and the deliverer of his meal still resting against his face? I have no such enveloping reminder of security, I guess.

All I know is that it's got me a little unnerved, but also basking in a bit of wonder. Is there some level of perception babies know about that we forget at some point? A way to register attention of a conscious mind, when that big eye is present and listening/smelling/looking for danger? It reminds me of the Golden Compass books, where the mysterious "dust" turned out to be sort of a form of Attention.

Or is it just a dad in the heightened state of "everything my boy does is amazing" mixed with sleepiness?

H's new pet

So proud of H's new pet dragon. Made from chalk board contact paper... So he can write on the wall!

Fish Story

Today a little dad's group I've organized took our sprats to the California Academy of Sciences, which has recently been rebuilt to much hoopla round here. I've only been once since it was anew, and it was so crowded I saw very little. We went at the crack of dawn (11am) so as to potentially keep ahead of the crowds, and it turned out to be the right plan.

It was the first time H has been to a zoo or aquarium or anything of the sort, though when we were at Alex and Matt's over the holidays he loved their aquarium, so we had hopes.

And I can happily say that the only thing that made him really mad was that he was not able to penetrate through the glass and hold onto the fishes (and probably put them in his mouth). He was absolutely absorbed from the first moments at the penguin tank until about an hour later when he fell deep asleep on my chest amidst the humidity and soothing sounds of the rainforest dome. I think his favorite was the enormous jellyfish, which he pawed at repeatedly and made several excited shrieks and gurgles for. In general, he was most fascinated with underwater, so we stuck with the aquarium this time. He stared, and watched the fish go round and round and smiled and giggled and wow...it was a sweet experience. Cati was sad to miss out, but she also got a few hours off with her girlfriends to drink christmas beer and eat coconut pie. I've been working hard to make sure the mom's don't just see our gang as their favorite babysitting collective, but it's still nice to give mama a break.

Needless to say, we'll be headed back to the aquarium again. We may even get him a small tank at home for Christmas as long as the cats promise not to eat the fishies. We're constantly excited and surprised at how well H takes to new experiences...he loved a post-impressionist exhibit we went to awhile ago too...makes me think we need to try more stuff out...the zoo, boat rides, etc.

Man, what fun we have ahead!

Cute Update

 there are actually three kids in this picture!

 Chillin with gram on the ole stoop

 Meeting new buddy Liam

 blah blah blah

 I'm cute and i know it

 hugging the world

 munch

 peek a boo!

granpa study

Numberless

How do we count these moments? Surely, somewhere someone else is jotting this all down? Look, his head is resting on my shoulder, and there's a little smile. That simply has to be entered into the record. Not to mention that wry little smile he just gave me when I was being goofy. (How does he even know what wry is yet?) How can the way he grabs the spoon with both hands and then sucks on his rice-cerealed hands with feral focus not be recorded on someone's top-ten list of things to make you happy to be alive? Can't you see my wife curled up asleep with him, blankets murkily lapping at their shoulders? Isn't everyone simply weeping at the way he conked out in the crook of my arm, burrowing his face in and whimpering groggily?

It could stun you, if you let it, how many things have accumulated. How only four months can be filled with so much. I simply don't think anyone else could stand it.

Look over here

It strikes me that much of what we do as parents is distraction. "Don't cry! Look over here! Watch this doll move back and forth!" What, exactly, are we distracting them from?

Of course, the simple answer is that a baby cry is the expression of loneliness and confusion and shock and that we are reassuring them that they are not alone, so that the last two won't matter as much. But we don't actually know for sure much of the time. No matter the cause of the cry, our job is to head it off at the pass...don't ask any questions. And nowadays, there are so many tools and info resources out there about how to do so! We have an app on our iphones that makes white noise that has become the absolute magic spell for getting H through car rides. Unlike many babies, he absolutely hates the car most of the time. Especially when we're not moving fast, or are stopping and going. The worst and wildest and sharpest cries we've ever heard from him have been in the back seat of the car. It's driven us to fights, made us turn around from destinations, and stay home when we're invited out. We'd tried everything,  and then one day in Georgia Cati said "Try the white noise app." And boom, 5 minutes later he was asleep. Initially, we were flooded with joy and relief. Wow...there's nothing like that feeling when crying of that stature is averted.

Perhaps it's my melancholy cast, but I find myself mulling this over. I realize children and adults are different than infants, but don't we generally castigate "society" for being obsessed with the latest distraction from our intractable problems? Every time there's a silly new scandal, we soberly intone "This is what we've come to--while our country falls down around our ears, what we really care about is who her boyfriend is?" Or, "Teenagers are so shallow! All they want is the next pleasure, something to play with, and then they're easily bored and move on." Or "We're so consumerist, hiding from existential horror!"

On a deeper/harsher level, you could also see drug/alcohol issues in the same light. Rather than face hard truths or desperate griefs, we often swim through the blissful numbness of intoxicants.

Is this where it starts? Where impatience and fickleness and weakness in the face of terrible choices begins? After the first several months of just getting H from morning to night and back again in sane fashion, I'm starting to wonder more about how our short-term problem-solving will affect him down the line. Not in terrible, neurotic ways, as he's showered with love and healthy surroundings. But on a basic, maybe even animal way. What are his expectations going to be for the world around him? When anguish surfaces, will he know how to work through it?

I think most parents know that the person the baby shriek hurts most is them. Most of what we assume their terror or anger or sadness or fear is, is our own projection for how they must be feeling. But really, it's us that're going through those emotions. When H wakes up and he starts crying, that's how we know it's time to go to him. But what is he actually saying? "I'm alone! Why?" "Why am I not being fed?" "Where am I?" Even if we knew those to be the actual questions his cries are indicating, are those questions that really have answers? Are we lying to him by making it seem like every cry in the dark is answered?

In the end, I guess there are two things that keep me running to his bedside.

Firstly, Cati and I matter. If his cries hurt us, it's not necessarily wrong for us to salve the wound. H will thrive better with parents that aren't torn to pieces.

Secondly, the answer to all of the above questions is love. At least, it's the only answer I've ever known. When I've been awake, alone, staring up into the dark, the only thing that's ever pulled me out of the hole is love. So, in that sense, we are giving him the right lesson. It's really true. The only thing that will ever make you feel better, son, is love. The rest is...distraction.

First solids, first love

This weekend we fell in love with rice cereal. At first, it was puppy love. We just wanted to rub on it's soft mushiness. Then we fought with it. Tumultous love! Now we've settled into a comfortable love with rice cereal, as long as that old flame boobie milk isn't around. Ah, such is the love of HC for his rice cereal.

The Groove

I think we're getting into a groove here at our house. We get up around 7:30, eat, change diapers, play on the bed in HC's bedroom, nap, and start all over again.

Except that recently, we've been getting pretty darn adventurous! Yesterday, I took HC for a monster walk to Jen and Little M's house in the Haight with Wendy and the Bean. We walked for an hour each way.

And then today, Arne took HC into the heart of the beast. They tramped down to Civic Center for the Giants World Champion parade. Wow! I took my lunch break to track them down by bike. I always feel very McGuyver on my bike. [Aside: But really, what new parent doesn't feel like McGuyver most of the time?! Need a burp cloth, use a onesie that is (already!) too small. Need a wet wipe; try a clean sock dipped in your drinking water (just don't dip it more than once!).]

It was thick with people out there, and when I finally found Arne and my hungry baby, I'd already rechained my bike and rode the wrong way down a 5 lane one-way street to get to them. Poor things, from there they walked another 2.3 miles home. Buses kept sweeping by, full to the brim.

Anyway, here are some sweet pictures of our little mensch. I know you could care less what I say as long as I give you photos. And look who's found his feet!!!
C

Pic of the week

Maria's trip to Haiti

I've been reading our midwife's blog about her trip to Haiti to train and support midwives there.
She ends her post on the last day of her trip by talking about what she's learned in Haiti:

'Brother Michael at the Maison Fortune often would ask in the evening circle, "What has Haiti given you today?" It is a question to punctuate the fact that we, as Americans, as foreigners, are receiving, more than giving ourselves while we are here. Haiti has given me a glimpse into the harsh realities of global midwifery. Haiti has shown me hope through the smiles of the children. Haiti has given me an opportunity to witness the strength of women, midwives, who go back to work, day after day, not knowing whether the day will be weighted heavy with joy or grief.'
http://wisewomanchildbirth.blogspot.com/2010/09/journal-entry-september-4-2010.html

As parents, Arne and I talk frequently about how in the learning continuum, we are in the position perhaps of learning much more from HC than the other way around. Funny how learning and teaching get flip-flopped like that in all sorts of scenarios.

More perhaps about how I feel about Haiti later. For the moment, suffice to say that there is no real way to not feel sensationalist and since I tend to distrust sensationalism, I'm left with feelings that have to wait for another proxy venue to come out.

Music

Today, we present you with the glorious hearing abilities of dear Haraldur, and the sounds that surround him:

Sound Check from Arne Johnson on Vimeo.

Dreams

I realize I probably don't have everyone reading this on our email list, so here are some pix we've been sending around:

One Month Old!
http://gallery.me.com/missionpictures#100227

17 Days Old!
http://gallery.me.com/missionpictures#100219

Today, Cati and I were driving along and the local public radio station replayed Martin Luther King's "I have a dream..." speech, as it's the anniversary of the March on Washington. Once he started talking about all our children holding hands and little children growing up in a world where they can go anywhere without seeing signs saying "Whites Only" tears starting welling up in my eyes. I was glad I had my sunglasses on, but then Cati's hand reached up from the backseat and touched me on the back, and I thought she was just consoling me. But a minute later, I could hear her sniffing and crying too. She said "We're not all the way there yet!" And he hit the end of the speech with that amazing cascade of words:

"Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring—when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children—black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics—will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

And we both started crying and I had to pull over. It's amazing how much power those words carry when you're a parent. I couldn't even look at Haraldur without getting teary-eyed again. What have we done to make this world better, to carry that dream forward? We decided right then and there in the car to do more this year to make sure Haraldur grows up in a world that Dr. King died for, one that, in Cati's words, "We are not all the way there yet."
Here's where I got choked up:

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."

I have always assumed my child would be judged by who they truly are, it's so hard to imagine what it would feel like to look at a face like his and know that his future would be defined by the one thing he got from me that he could do nothing about.

All smiles

We have liftoff! The corners of HC's mouth and eyes are beginning to come up on a regular basis. Things what make my little man smile: French (oui oui oui!), showers (but definitely not baths), silly daddy, horse lips, possibly sometimes his best friend/nemesis, Mr. Purple elephant.

This is not a smile, but I know some grandparents who'd be sad about a post w/out pix.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hankie

Ok, this is that uncomfortable part of every ceremony when the guy gets up in front of family and friends and tries to make a speech about how great and supportive everyone's been and how much it means except he keeps getting choked up and stopping for awkward silences and giggling inappropriately and going on weird, emotional tangents. At first, everyone's moved, some even dab a tear from their eye, but there's also dinner waiting to be plated, drinks to be emptied and dancing to be done. Eventually there's a restlessness as the poor guy mumbles on, completely overcome by the pool of love surrounding him.

Everytime I think about all of the messages and acts aimed towards us from the moment Cati got pregnant to now, I become that guy. Everything from sweet emails to my brother dismantling our house and bringing it to the hospital so we could have traces of the homebirth we'd planned, they accumulate around our heads like constellations, ones we'll sit out back in the grass and point out to Haraldur some day. "See that one, the one that looks like a giant cake? That's the apple cake that our brand new friend Trevor brought us two days after you were born. And that one over there, the one that looks like a speeding car? That's Grandma and Grandpas racing all the way down from Portland and Colorado to meet you after you were born. Right next to it is an empty laundry hamper, the one we could never get filled because Nonna lived with us for the first week like an invisible cleaning angel. And see those stars all piled together, like a mound of gifts? Those are the wonderful gifts and insights brought to us by recent and not-so-recent mothers. And that circle of women holding hands? The midwives and doulas and nurses and doctors who lowered you from Cati on a pillow of light."

I don't think I've ever felt so well loved in my whole life. Right now I have Haraldur in a wrap, snuggled up against my chest with two crossing soft panels enrobing him to me while I write this, and I feel myself and Cati and him supported in the same manner. In the host of many reasons to have such a miraculous and beautiful and sweet child, one I didn't expect was that it quickly flashed a light on the true hearts that surround us, far more than we had any right to believe in. Haraldur has changed our lives in wondrous ways, and so have all of you. It's a scary thing having a child, but having everyone be here like this has made it seem like the easiest thing in the world, like jumping out of an airplane and knowing the birds will never let you fall.

Ok, dinner is served. Thank you.

We Live in a Haze of Beauty

Today we had a really sweet naming ceremony for Haraldur, something we'd been thinking about for a long time but never solidified. With all the grandparents in town for what might be the only time in a while, we suddenly felt the urgency to do something and wrote up a ceremony basically the same morning (with months of brainstorming to inform it). Cati has been pushing for an official christening, and I'm somewhat uncomfortable with churches, so we were trying to come up with a compromise. We did the same kind of inventing for our wedding, and I really loved how we navigated that, so we mushed together various traditions and added our own twists. We had a few little ceremonies and then had all the grandparents say a few words to Haraldur to send him on his new life. Every one of 'em just about cried or had to stop for being choked up, which made me think this hobbled together secular/spiritual/religious ceremony had hit the mark. In fact, everyone (including me) got choked up while speaking except Cati, who cried while everyone else was speaking. No one knew what to expect, including us, which made the surprise of the emotion even sweeter.

Then Cati and Haraldur and I spent the rest of the day in the bedroom cooing and nudging and ogling and staring and crying and smiling and touching and holding. Many more days like this and I'm afraid I'll lose my skin and dissolve into the clouds. Which would be ok, as long as I could still be around to embrace that little one.

mama love from Arne Johnson on Vimeo.

No more belly

I'm happy to report today that there will no more pictures of Cati's belly. The belly you will mostly see now is that of Haraldur Collus Johnson, born at 11:26am on July 24, 2010. 7lbs, 10 ozs. There is much to say about the amazingness of Cati and her spurning conventional wisdom and having a baby her way (I kept wanting to shout "We're not even supposed to be here!" and chest bump someone, but it wasn't really a macho kinda atmosphere), but I'll save that for a day when I've had more sleep. Suffice it to say, it was an incredible experience that has shaped our souls differently from here on after.

For now, a few pictures will tell some of the story...

Not yet borned, but close!

2 Minutes old

Happy Parents at 4 Minutes Old

10 Minutes Old

30 Minutes Old, Already Latched on and Hungry

1 Hour Old, Being Weighed

7 Hours Old, Dressed to Leave the Hospital

10 Hours Old and Home

Goodnight darlin' boy...

Due Day

Our due day has come in a squall of various waters. Cati both started and ended the day with tears, and there were some fluids that we thought might be her water breaking, but extremely slowly! We had an exciting morning, thinking that one way or the other we might be near meeting our little one. But the midwife tested and not only assured us it wasn't amniotic fluid, but reminded us that we don't want Cati's water breaking without labor (thus dampening our excitement in two different ways). The reason you don't wish it, is because you then have a short window before you have to induce (72 hours). Not at all like the movies where the woman suddenly wets herself onstage while accepting an award then rushes out to a taxi cab and proceeds to give birth in the backseat. Real water breaking can come in trickles, gushes and floods, and may just mean you have a day of labor ahead of you.

The first trickles for Cati are actually coming from her eyes...A couple days ago we heard a great birth story about a homebirth from some new and immediately dear friends, and the mom mentioned she was very weepy just before she went into labor. Well, if tears was babies, we'd have ourselves a mess of them today! I really do think Cati's pretty close now, though...Spork has been kicking like crazy, rolling and punching and diving deeper into her pelvis. There's a palpable feel in the air that this baby is ready to come out, but just hasn't figured out where the hormonal switch is yet. If he/she is anything like his/her dad, the switch is sitting right in front of his/her face, while he/she looks wildly everywhere else except right there. Maybe that's why Cati keeps crying, because Spork is accidentally hitting all of her hormonal switches instead.

I could be completely wrong, never having had a child before, but there's that electricity in the air like just before a thunderstorm (and certainly there's been some initial rains). I know you Georgia peeps know what I'm talking about!

Or maybe it's what animals sense just before an earthquake. Potentiality is heavy in the air.

I feel ready, and I sometimes find myself talking a red streak to others about how ready "we" are and how "we" feel this or that and then look over at Cati and see she's nodding politely but without conviction and wonder if she's thinking "Who's this 'we' you're talking about, white man?" It's really an intense feeling to know I'll be there to help her however I can, but ultimately she's doing the heroic work. In that birth story we heard recently, momma decided she didn't want to be touched or for anyone to even stand close to her for a good portion of labor, so her husband's good training in helping with pain and whatnot hung from his tool-belt like a broken hammer. He, of course, did many other important things, but it was a good reminder that ultimately Cati is running this show. And those of you who know me well know that that is going to be a challenge for me! And it may be a challenge for Cati to demand what she needs too, but I have a lot more confidence in her...

I want to just be a river that flows into whatever pools she needs me in. If I was a praying man, that's what I would ask for the strength for.

Sunday Street Picture

Some requests for pictures of me and Arne, in addition to Spork/Belly, have inspired me to add this to the blog. They closed streets near our house this past Sunday for bikers, walkers, rollerskaters and hoola hoopers. Arne and I had some friends over to watch the World Cup match (Orange for Holland!) and then took a Sunday Promenade down the middle of the usually very busy 24th street. Our friend Nadine took a few lovely pictures which she doctored with a filter that makes them look very 70s and very cool!

Here comes our soccer player

Spork has been inspired by watching the world cup, it seems.
Here's our big footed soccer player.

Winner: Baby Words of Wisdom

We had a contest for words of wisdom for the baby. Finally, I'm thrilled to announce the winner. It was hard to decide (like many things these days), but only having one entrant made it easier. :-)

"Listen to your grandparents. They're smarter than they look."

Any Day Now

Well, y'all, the time is nigh. Though she's not due until later in July, we hit 37 weeks last Saturday, which as I mentioned in a previous post, means Cati's at term. Any time little Spork decides to emerge s/he will be perfectly ready for the world. Considering all wham-pow going on in Cati's belly, Spork is definitely primed.

We, too, are fairly ready. We have a funny relationship with our midwife, who kind of terrifies us. Not in a bad way, but in that mentor/teacher/coach/parent way where you spend a lot of time trying to impress them. She's just a shade over 5 foot, but is as immovable as a rock. I spend a lot of time trying to make her laugh, and when she chuckles a little I feel it's a major victory and go home glowing. She's scolded us a couple times, once because Cati wasn't gaining quite enough weight, and then again later when Cati had apparently too enthusiastically embraced that advice. She also gave us a stern look when at 37 weeks we still didn't have our infant car seat purchased. Recently, we've met several people who also have Maria as a midwife, and we've been very relieved to laugh along with them as they relate similar stories. It's nice to know we aren't the bad kids at the back of the room...

I think part of the problem is that the baby-hospital culture has made people a little inherently lazy when preparing for birth. Even though we're doing a homebirth, we still managed to fall into the general fog of "Oh THEY'll take care of it, or IT will get taken care of..." In fact, when you birth at home, it's YOU that's doing everything. Our midwife's job is to be there to assist when needed, be there for emergencies and go into action at crucial moments. The rest is me and Cati, roving about the house, trying to get comfortable, making crazy sounds together, singing, talking to the baby, and ultimately making life. We've also been purchasing supplies and arranging the house properly. At first it's daunting, like "Damn, are we really ok being responsible for all this?" But now, with all our birth supplies laid out in the hallway and our various massages and movements practiced, and phone trees set up, it feels really good. Even if we end up having to go to the hospital in the end for some reason, it feels like we've really embraced this birth in a way we wouldn't have if we'd gone to the hospital right off. I don't know how every midwife is, but part of the effect of Maria's stonefaced yet gentle urgings has been to make us really turn inwards. There's no one out there who's gonna make this baby happen or make the pain different or anything. Cati really is strong enough, and I'm really ready. I don't know that we would've known that about ourselves otherwise.

That's what he said

Me: I *did* have plans this afternoon. I was going to come home, get the house tidy, put on something slinky and wait for you to come home.

Him: Can you still slink? You could slink like a snake that has eaten a deer.

Kicks

Today, we woke up early to go see USA vs Algeria at a bar with some friends...the place was packed, and Cati was hovering at the entrance, uncertain about plunging in. I sort of looked at her quizzically, thinking "Why are we standing at the door?" I keep forgetting that squeezing through small gaps between people is not only difficult for her at this point, but she has to think about sudden leaps and elbows flying as goals are scored and people cheer. Eventually we located Luke in the back and I plowed a path forward for her through the giddy fans. Watching the match was amazing fun, gripping, intense, and so much better for being surrounded by USA fans. Chanting, yelling, curses, the whole business. Anyway, when we finally scored in the 91st minute, pandemonium broke out. Screaming, chest bumping with strangers, high fives all round, etc. As I leaped to celebrate with our gang, I noticed Cati huddled in the corner, belly away from all the craziness. Anyway, for some reason that made me more excited, and I jumped and yelled some more. She was as excited as the rest of us, but just protecting the little bugger from inadvertent happiness. Good move. And then I realized that it's quite possible s/he will be born during the World Cup, which suddenly puts all that kicking in a different light.

Although Cati's mom has put in a very firm demand that the baby be born on July 22nd, since she'll be arriving the day before. It'll be interesting to see who wins that battle of wills!

Speaking of which, at the last day of birth class (we are now certified and legally allowed to give birth) one of the couples that departed the class early to have a baby (I don't know how they got away with it) returned to tell their story. It was very cool, and Ezra was extremely cute. The thing that struck me most of all, however, was that they had their baby at 36 weeks and 4 days (perfectly healthy and normal). Which is exactly the day we are on TODAY. The mom was studying for her finals, which were the next day, and the baby didn't have the good sense to wait a couple days. So, I've been thinking all along that we're pretty ready, but suddenly realized we are not THAT ready! Still some loose ends, Cati's wrapping things up at work, Mission Pictures has all manner of things hopping, and we're still a few fragments away from baby-prepared at home. Time to start making those lists and checking them twice!

Win free hugs - send the baby words of wisdom

I'm at work late transferring video files from one drive to another so I can take them home on the lighter drive (I'm on foot) to review over the weekend. Splendid, right?! But transferring the files makes me unable to view them (which is what I need to do next), so I'm catching up on my Pretty Pictures blog reading, where I found a neato quote contest Words to Live By, where folks send in pictures of quotes they like or put pictures up on a flickr page.

I'm not proposing anything quite so fancy, but I promise I'll compile the words of wisdom for Spork and post them up here if you comment them or get 'em to us. Send me an email or a text or carrier pigeon! We'll take pictures, audio recordings, sign language or even Sanskrit. Maybe we'll even send out a prize!

Ok, here is a onesie that just happens to have my totally impartial words of wisdom. ;)

And here is a close-up:

Almost There

One more week and Cati'll be at 37 weeks, or for those who haven't read 8 million pregnancy books, AT TERM. Though she's officially due July 17, any time after next week will be a normal birth time.

We're thinking lots about this new life, meanwhile trying to swim through the one we already each have.

You guess

Today's picture is a replacement for the usual update photo because Cati keeps sneaking out of the house without letting me take her picture. I took this during our homebirth prep class with a woman whose name is actually Jane Austin. Your job is to guess which is the giant gym ball, and which is Cati's belly. She was leaning on the ball in between leaning back on her toes to simulate some of the physical "challenge" of childbirth while I tried to do things to help. First, I was to just use touch with no talking, trying to massage, lightly touching, etc...then, I was to try to get her to say yes. Finally, she told me stuff she liked and then I did them. I was doing pretty well until midway through the "Yes" part when I asked her if she loved her mommy and daddy and her brother and she definitely said yes to all but then she started almost crying so I had to go back to things like ice cream and puppies. I shoulda known better, she does miss them an awful lot.

Meanwhile, Ms Austin is a fine teacher, with a nice mixture of fairly genuine new ageness and crass body fluid talk. Each leavens the other in a way that makes all of us fairly comfortable. While she lacks the original Jane Austen's economy of language, she's a bit more helpful on the topic of birth than our literary hero. One of the best parts of class is meeting all these other couples homebirthing, from all different walks of life and ages and backgrounds. Very helpful to feel part of a community. The other day, the craziest thing happened...Cati was telling someone she was from Marietta, and this guy pops up from across the room..."You're from Marietta? Me too!" Turns out, though they went to different high schools, they graduated the same year. AND, they have the same midwife. AND, they are due the day after us. Weird, eh? I guess them Georgians love their summertime...

Otherwise, all is going fairly well. Cati has been struggling with acute acid reflux (heartburn), but that seems to have eased somewhat. All our tests and checkups and whatnot continue to come out all grand, and our baby continues to dance the amniotic fluid dance. I alternate between panic and ecstasy, which seems to ratchet up even as Cati descends into a preternatural calm about child birth. I think Cati would laugh to hear this, but I've started just gazing at her to calm myself. She's the center of my storm, and a lovely place she is to spin around...

Braxton Hicks

Yes, you guessed correctly. This is the name of our child. Doesn't it have a nice ring to it?!

Ok, y'all... just kidding. Braxton Hicks is the name of practice contractions (totally normal) that are helping my body gear up for Spork's arrival in late July. It's strange because sometimes I can't tell the difference between one of these (my tummy tenses up) and a good hard baby stretch (my tummy tenses up).

We saw our midwife this morning. Seems like the baby is very much dive-bombing my pelvis. This is a good thing. She really had to fish around to find what she's pretty confident is a head, settling into the groove. Sometimes I have a vision of Spork in a WWII leather bomber helmet, arms pursed tightly by her side, toes pointed to the heavens, barreling out of the sky and down into my pelvis! 

The baby has a strong heartbeat and is doing just fine. And I have a strong heartbeat, too, but I have to lay off the sugar. I'm a sad sack who'll no longer get to eat vegan flan (delicious dinner with Casey last night), clean up desserts for vegans who can't eat them, or coerce and ransom cookies out of Shane (Arne's best friend and business partner). I do get to eat anything probiotic: Kombucha, Kimchi, Yogurt, Sourkraut. Oh goodie! ;)

We've been doing kick counts. You're supposed to be still twice per day and if you don't get 10 kicks in an hour or two, call your doctor. We have literally yet to get to 10 minutes before getting 10 kicks. Either that, or in our evening sessions, I keep falling asleep. 

More belly pictures very soon. Hugs to all!

Lucky Us

This week I'm feeling pretty grateful. Things have been going great with the little one, all tests look good, Cati feels mostly pretty good, lotsa kicks and action. We really feel like we have another person with us now. We can feel definite body parts as they rest against Cati's belly, though we're not always sure exactly what they are. Everyone's healthy and ready.

Speaking of ready, we went to our first birth prep class this week...though I should clarify, it was our first class, but not THE first class. Cati totally forgot the first one (though I share a little responsibility for this forgetting, the story is funnier if you just believe it was all Cati's fault), so for the second class we were extra careful. I was originally supposed to be gone on a shoot at Yosemite (canceled because of snow), so I helped with the remembering. Cati came home after work and double-checked the location and start time, and we settled in to a nice, leisurely dinner. When we got to the building, the front door was locked, which was a little weird. We knocked and someone let us in, and we come around the corner to see that this very full class was well underway. It was a fairly long walk to join them, with everyone's eyes on us, which was lots of fun. Apparently class started at 7pm, not 7:30. And we had thought we were 5 minutes early! Made me think that birth prep classes should be specially built in some way for pregnant moms and distracted dads where whenever you show up a class starts for you. How can we be expected to remember actual times and days? When Cati's not working or eating, she's sleeping. And me, well...um, I have no excuse.

We were relieved to find out that, despite missing a class, we will still be allowed to give birth. But we'll have to do some extra credit yoga poses and low moaning to get up to snuff, or no baby!

One cool note was that a classmate is the personal chef for the Gettys (very rich, old aristocratic family in SF) and cooked for the president last night when he was in town. Next class, she's volunteered to bring snacks. Yum! Sadly, we also volunteered (before we knew who she was), so we'll be taking off work all week and doing nothing but cooking so as not to embarrass ourselves.

I realize that's a long tangent away from my original statement about being grateful...We've had some tough news about other folks this last week or two, and I am sharply cognizant of how lucky we are to be burbling happily late to our homebirthing class and generally mooning around with a happy healthy baby always on our minds. It's funny how giving birth is such an incredibly happy experience, and yet it opens you up to so much potential pain (and joy too, of course) beyond what you ever allowed yourself to experience. Not just in the challenges and potential tragedies of pregnancy and birth itself, but once this being comes into your life, everything that hurts them will hurt you too...and no matter how hard you try, in one way or the other, you will cause them hurt, if only by eventually leaving this world.

Anyway, sorry for the melancholy turn, but considering all, we're incredibly happy, and I guess this is my mopey way of saying thank you. To whomever. It's not always gonna be this sweet (it'll often be sweeter), and I am grateful.

Birth and day

Well, today I was awoken to the sweet smell of biscuits darling Cati was baking for my birthday in bed breakfast. Using a tip from her friend Hannah's story about her Granny's biscuits, I tracked down some White Lily flour online and Cati's been a biscuit baking fiend ever since. Much to my benefit...

Anyway, it got me to thinking...this whole birthday thing, we usually think about it as celebrating how old we are, or how old we've just turned, or fearing how old we've become. But with the baby near, I am suddenly and pointedly reminded that this is a celebration of my birth. My actual age matters little, but I DO like remembering that my mother was so good as to bring me into the world, and how great a thing being born ultimately is when you have a great family. Despite various reconfigurations, I've never doubted for a moment that my family loves me lots, and what better world can anyone be born into? I am hopeful that this next birth-day that we will celebrate will be a similar gift for our child. I can't imagine it otherwise, I feel so much love flooding through me already for this little rolling, kicking, elbowing, hiccuping wonder.

Sometimes one can get in a rut thinking about all of the burdens our children inherit, a world in distress, economic armageddons, dwindling resources, etc...I find myself taking a shower and contemplating whether or not our child will even know what it's like to be allowed to take a shower every day. And yet, when I think of my own childhood, none of the things that I'm guessing my parents fretted about too stick out. All I remember is pancakes on Sunday mornings, hikes in the mountains, looking for wild mushrooms, dinners at Grandma's, music-making nights, taking care of goats, etc...There were certainly sad and difficult times, but none that I can remember involved the outside world really. So, that makes me feel better about celebrating birthdays. It's a day to celebrate the bubble of love we all get to enter just once, but every year is a reminder of our luck in staying in that bubble. Ok, time to get back to building this new bubble.

My first good sf biscuits!

Courtesy of Arne ordering some self rising flour online (cause ya can't get it here!)






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Kentucky Derby Blowout

Arne and I (and the in-utero wiggle worm) went to a lovely Kentucky Derby party hosted by friends Patrick and Catherine this weekend. Patrick is a Kentucky native himself, and it turns out that my side of the Johnsons hail from Kentucky, too. Mom was born in Murray, Kentucky and lived there for a year before becoming the lovely Georgia Peach that she is.

Speaking of Georgia Peaches, here's a picture of me ripening in the sun - got a touch of a burn on that right shoulder to boot.

Arne and I had the right idea. We bid on the best horse - Super Saver - but were outbid by some "friends" :), and had to go with our second choice who came in dead last! Arne and Dave (said "friend") in heated battle:

It was a lovely time all around. Arne and I made biscuits and maple bourbon butter to go on top. I'll not recommend trying to make biscuits with bread flour (too chewy), but the maple bourbon butter is definitely the way to go! Since our Georgia visit we've been on a biscuit quest - but more about that later. No use crying over spilled flour (unless you're pregnant and that seems exactly the thing to do).

Catch Up

Sorry, we've been remiss on the blog lately, partially because we were visiting several of our readers in Atlanta! We miss y'all already....anyway, to make up for it, I'm posting two weeks of photos, plus one alternate view...

April 13

April 30

Also, a scene from our baby shower at the historic Strand Theater in Marietta, hosted by our wonderful friends Earl and Terri Reece, and Colleen and Peter (also wonderful friends, but of course so much more).

I, of course, am used to being world famous, but this was a real treat for Cati, who has shunned the limelight all her life.

The baby is up to all kinds of gymnastics in Cati's belly, and the newest move involves using the entire body at once. Cati's been getting pokes and kicks up until now, but last night s/he stretched full out and kicked on one side of Cati while ramming either his/her head or elbow into the other side. I am amazed how Cati greets each new beating with a beatific smile, especially as this one occurred during sleep time, which is usually a very dangerous time to disturb her. Nonetheless, I enjoy the somersaults immensely. I think it's pretty clear that all our dreams of a recessive gene showing up and creating a quiet, demure child are evaporating now. This kid wants to move!

Cati's been doing well, though the third trimester has brought it's host of discomforts and fatigue. She's bearing up so well, that I feel pretty embarrassed now if I complain about a hangnail or something. I imagine that will get even sharper after I watch her give birth. I still can't believe I get to say that sentence: "After I watch her give birth." wow, I'm a lucky man.