Welcome to the World, Beren Gabriel.

Some people like birth stories. Here's mine:

I was ten days overdue. On the tenth day I was scheduled to be induced. The night before, we went to a party (Ben was performing), got home at 1 am. At 3 am, my water broke. I called the doula, Daina, who came right away. I woke up Ben, explained what happened. He claims he said, "Is there anything I can do?" I remember only something that sounded like, "Do I have to get up?"

Daina the doula and I had tea, I did the dishes, then went back to bed for a while. Woke up at 9 am, ravenous, and went down to the cafe down the block for a free stampede breakfast and a friend's book launch. Contractions mild but regular.

By noon, contractions stopped. This would be our third false start. We went to the hospital - since I was supposed to be induced anyway - and they hooked me up to the IV drip. Contractions resumed by 2 pm. Not bad!

By 6 or 7 pm, we were into the really strong contractions (the IV they put you on really intensifies things). By 11 or 12, the doc checked me and cheefully announced, "Hey, you're three centimetres dilated." What???!! By now, I was over it. I had tried to keep off the drugs, but after 5 hours of "intense" (i.e. brutal) contractions every 2 minutes, I was exhausted. Bring on the epidural. Which was only partially effective, and by the time the pushing started at 2 am, really ineffective.

I was in a fairly modern, hippy dippy friendly hospital, so they hooked up a birthing bar (large hoop over the bed). I started pushing with my feet up on the bar, pulling on the ends of a twisted bedsheet hooked over it. Sort of a variation on the Victorian system with a bedsheet wrapped around the bedpost :-) You sort of push and pull at the same time. I ended up hanging upside down like a fruit bat, in about the most undignifed pose you can possibly imaging, but Beren eventually shot straight out, caught at the last second by the doctor who was rushed into the room. They call the crowning, the "burning ring of fire," and for good reason. I was right in the middle of the ring of fire when the nurses cried, "Hold it! Just hold it right there! We'd better call the doc!" "Whuh???!! HOLD IT?!!" Forget it. There was no going back. I was not pausing for anything.

Beren Gabriel Rose was born at 4:52 am, at a healthy 7 pounds, 11 ounces, and 21 inches long. A future basketball player, we hope :-)

They say you forget how hard it is. For the first two months I was like, "are you KIDDING? I remember EXACTLY how hard it was." However, now four months have passed, and indeed, it has all faded into memory; a vivid, but toothless memory.

Breastfeeding was tough. That happens to a lot of people, I'll warn you now. Another argument against intelligent design, as in, if I was designing this, I would make sure that the incredibly helpless infant at least had a good grasp of feeding itself and wouldn't bite the breast that feeds it, so to speak. The first few weeks are exhausting, your body is recovering, and adapting, and everything else. At this time I was like, "I never believed in God until I had my baby. But now I know that children are God's punishment to women. For what, I don't know. But God! I'm sorry. So so sorry..."

Everyone I ran into - on the street, at coffee shops, suddenly random strangers would introduce themselves and chat - everyone said, "it gets better. Just hang in there." At 6 weeks I was almost at my wits' end, "When? When does it get better?" For us it was 8 weeks. When Beren was 2 months old, I suddenly realized that the string of "good days" we'd had was holding out. It did get better. Suddenly it was, dare I say, easy. So I encourage anyone, if you have trouble - and not everyone does, but if you do, I tell you here and now that yes, it does get better. Just hang in there.

There are all kinds of ups and downs, of course, But Beren is an awesome little guy, and we're pretty lucky. Overall he's a very easy going baby. Sure it's hard, but it's also way more fun (and fascinating, and beautiful, and all the rest of it) than I thought it was going to be. Those people who say, "ooh it's so hard, it's the hardest thing you'll ever do, so so haaaard..." Those people have never done a fringe tour, I guarantee it.

So that's the last thing I'll leave you with; it does get better, and it's way more fun than you think it's going to be :-)