L&D (part 2)

After the doc breaks my water she leaves the room and I continue laboring on...

A short while later the nurse calls the doc...

"You want to come in here and deliver a baby?"

"Wha...?"  I didn't know we were so close.  It was 11:30am-ish.

Throughout my pregnancy, Ari's heart rate stayed in the 150s. This was no exception during active labor.

Until my water broke.

Soon after, with every contraction, his heartrate started dropping.

down
down
down.

You could hear his little heart fading from a strong pound to a weak 60 beats.

Doc comes in and checks my cervix.  I'm still 8cm.  Not enough to start The Great Push, but the baby isn't tolerating my contractions now that his pinata has been popped...

"Let's give her oxygen and flip her to her left side."

For the next several minutes I'm moving to my left -then right- left -then right- side trying to get the baby's heart to come back to baseline.

Doc:  "I can look at this number all day.  But *this* number...I don't like..."

Doc:  "Dad, can you put on these blue scrubs?  Mom, we're going to put on these stockings.  We might need to do a C-section."

With the oxygen masked strapped to my face, a nurse tugging stockings onto my feet and up to my knees, and watching Justin put on his paper blue outfit, I started crying.  My body is shaking and I am scared...

A C-WHAT?!
Why isn't he tolerating the contractions anymore?  What's happening?  What's going to happen?!

I can still hear his heartbeat.  His very. slow. heart. beat.

Another nurse comes into the room and discretely tells the doc she has put the 11:45 c-section on hold.  "In case you need the room."

The room is pretty quiet.  My once jovial, wise-cracking doc is suddenly very focused on the monitors.  My excitement about being able to push soon is replaced by images of a sheet being placed up before me, doc telling me "a little pressure" as they cut me open. 

With every contraction she attempts to dilate my cervix further.

Justin stays by my side, giving me eyes and words of encouragement.  I'm thankful he looks so confident.  As much as I don't want a C-section, I can't stand hearing this slow heartbeat.  I'm on the verge of saying FUCK IT, WHEEL ME OUT NOW!!

But I stay quiet, despite the tears and shaking.  I trust *totally* the team of people around me and I turn when they say turn.  I breathe deeper when they tell me to do so.  Whatever they need me to do, I do.  And I do it immediately and without a word.

At 11:55am, she informs the nurse to go ahead with the scheduled c-section and "Lynsey, pull your knees up, grab behind your knees, roll into a ball...we're going to start pushing..."

And PuSH and PUsH and PusH I did...

"That's it, take a breath....now PUSH PUSH PUSH...he's RIGHT HERE...take a breath...okay PUSH c'mon c'mon c'mon PUSH..."

Seeing as how I was all Epidural'd up, I couldn't really feel much.  At all.  When she said his head was crowning, I reached down and could feel him.  This completely motivated me and I knew that all this effort was going to keep me out of the OR and a baby in my arms in no time.

Another contraction, another 3 pushes and his head was out.  I looked down and was freaked out/amazed at this grey headed creature sticking out of me.  OMG!

Doc suctioned his nose and mouth clear and says, "Yeah, there's the cord wrapped around his neck...one, two, THREE times?!"
She tells me later that she had never vaginally delivered a baby whose cord was wrapped 3 times around its neck.  She also tells me that if it wasn't for me being "such a great pusher" and keeping my cool, she wouldn't have hesitated to wheel me to the OR.  Also, being paired with an experienced -no-nonesense, all business- nurse made this delivery happen the way it did. 

"If you had been freaking out and not able to do what we needed you to do, I would've just wheeled you to the OR.  I'm not going to deal with a patient who can't listen to me and stay calm. Same with the nurse.  If I'm working with a new, inexperienced nurse who is freaking out who, in turn, freaks out the patient, I'll just section the birth.  But you turned when we asked you to turn, you pushed when and how we needed you to push.  But, GIRL, you gave me a few new grey hairs!  You need to pay for my next hair appointment!"

After the baby was delivered (at 12:10pm -only 15 minutes of pushing!) they took him straight to the baby warmer and started in on their exams.

Apgar at 1 minute: 9
Apgar at 5 minutes: 9

August 26, 2011
12:10pm
7 lbs, 12.2 ounces. 
21 inches

And BOY did he cry...big, healthy cries...

And finally he was in my arms
Sigh/Relief/Happy-Surge

the proud pop

Welcome to the World Ari Beckett!!

After some -ahem- repairs they wheel-chaired me up to next floor where I spent the next 2 days bonding/recovering/oooh and ahhing all over my new bundle of lovejoy perfection.

Because just when you think you couldn't love enough...here comes this ray of awesome -shooting straight out of your body and into your life/heart/soul/spirit...

And baby comes with ALOT of paperwork

"I got a cookie!  OH!  And a baby brother..."

Hi, Ari!  I'm your big brother...nice to meet you...

Post-Delivery sushi.  I should think so!
Girl needs her Omega-3s!

With a newborn (again!) But this time it isn't Milo...so weird.  Here he is fresh from his first bath.

12:10pm Saturday: 24 hours old!

The family of four: completed by This Guy!

Woman created Man:  2 TIMES!

Daddy taking his boys for their first walk together...*swoon*

Leaving the hospital with my 2 (TWO!) boys in the backseat...
Let the good times ROLL!

38 weeks + 1 day: Happy Birthday Ari Beckett! (Part One)

So there was an earthquake on Tuesday.  I gave birth on Friday.  And a hurricane Irene came through on Saturday.

It's been a very cool week, man...

Let me sum up a birth story:

Wednesday (at 37 weeks 6 days) I had attended my doc appointment and was measuring 3cm and 75% effaced. The same as the week before.  The lady parts doc had guestimated that she'd see me next week for my 39 week appointment.  I waddled out of that office disappointed.  I felt for sure I'd be giving birth this week. I felt huge, achy, and READY!

The next day, Thursday, I head up to the commisary at the local Air Force base with my trusty grocery store list.  I had bought a copy of the latest Rachael Ray mag and was all inspired to make a month's worth of meals in 1 day.  We were also expecting hurricane Irene to come through the area.  So I'm throwing several gallons of water, 10lbs of pork and chicken, pull-ups, and ice cream into the cart.  I'm going to be well-fed and prepared if I have to stay holed up at home with the fam!

Of course, while I was there I was inspired to use the ladies room and take this picture:

Approximately 26 hours before giving birth

 

Later that night I got a smooch from some handsome guy who was giving our son a bath:

It's like I knew this was my last full day of being pregnant.  Let me take as many pics...

10pm came along and the husb and I decided to call it a night.  I had briefly debated if I wanted to stay up to watch the latest Jersey Shore, but decided I could handle a rerun the next day. Mama was tired...

I woke up around 4am, which was nothing unusual.  Went pee and crawled/scooted back into bed.  I started feeling achy in the hips.  Like hips are pulling apart kind of achy.  I had been feeling this off/on for weeks.  No biggie.  Then the ache came back 10 minutes later.  Then 10 minutes later.  Then again.  I got up again and peed.

This time I came back into the room and dropped to my knees and leaned against the bed.  Justin sits up.

"Are you okay?"

"My hips are just really hurting."

"Should I call the doctor?"

"Let's just see what happens."

I didn't know if this was a pattern.  A truly active-in-labor pattern.  Justin pulls out my phone and starts timing the contractions with my nifty phone app.  Periodically, I walk around the room and then drop down again to hum out the pain.  Next thing I know it's around 530am and I was convinced this was the
Real McCoy of Labor.  I get up brush my teeth and start putting my toiletries in my hospital bag that had been packed for a couple of weeks now.

"We gotta get outta here."

I call the doctor and leave a message that I was having contractions for over an hour, 5 minutes apart and lasting from 45 seconds to 1.5 minutes.

Within a few minutes someone from the doc's office calls me back, gets more info, and let's me know that she'll notify my doctor.

Meanwhile Justin wakes up Milo gets him dressed and tells him, "Mommy and I have go to the hospital.  Your baby brother is going to be here soon!"

"Oh, baby brother!"

Milo doesn't have daycare on Fridays and I was feeling the need to go-go-go to the hospital.  Since my mom lives an hour away I had decided to take my friend up on her offer to "Call me if you need anything" and I called.  At 6am she answers her phone and graciously allows us to drop off Milo.  I call my mom and let her know what's happening. 

By 630am we're barrolling down the road.  40 minutes to the hospital...

I'm breathing, I'm moaning and reminding myself that my water hasn't broken yet and these pains were not the worst to come.  I can handle this.  My body was made just for this. Every song on the radio seemed to be a direct message to me.  From Bob Marley (Could you be loved, and be loved...) to Katie Perry (Do it all again/this Friday night/do it all again...)
The sun coming up over the horizon seemed to be welcoming this new life like a new day.  Every cloud, every bird...(focus/focal points)

Every contraction seemed to take me deeper into more pain.  I tried to remain focused and fully breathe into them.  3 years ago I was so terrified of each contraction.  Each one like Thunder on the Mountain.  I fought them and resisted them and my anxiety seemed to take over making it a thoroughly scary experience.

I didn't want this to be another scary experience.

What seemed to help this go-round was to welcome the contraction, breathe it in and out and when it subsided thank it and send it back to the universe.

"You can have that back"

There something about labor, preparing your body for birth, that brings you into your self, God, mother nature -no matter your spirituality, religion, energy, light, sage burning chanting enlightenment -these moments really make one reach outside yourself as well as deep within yourself- for strength, to be absent of fear, to embrace.

And as soon as the contraction was gone I felt normal, relaxed.  And then it would come back. 

Ebb/Flow, Ebb/Flow, Ebb/Flow

"I can't believe we're doing this.  Today."

 I felt emotional, numb, excited, scared, focused, but mostly thankful that I had my husband next to me and that Milo was safely cared for.

I could focus on my labor.  My husband could focus on me.  And Milo wouldn't have to be scared/confused over what was going on...

We park and head up to Labor and Delivery shortly after 7am.  After a brief check-in and several contractions later I'm hooked up in the triage room.

I'm 5cm and 75% effaced.

"What's your plan for pain management?"

"Lots of it."

"You plan for lots of pain?"

(laughing) "No, I'd like lots of meds to manage my pain..."

I'm still in mild disbelief that this is all happening but also relieved that they don't tell me to "Go walk the halls" to help my labor along.  I was dilated and had a consistent contraction pattern.  I'll be admitted to room 202 thankyouverymuch!

Since cocktail Epidural was on my menu front and center they start the IV.  After my veins had gurgled a full bag of fluids I was able to get the feel-good doctor to come into my room and poke at my spine.

At around 8am the very nice lady from Anesthesia wheels in her magic.  I had an Epi with Milo so I felt confident in the experience.  However, it was a tad more painful than 3 years ago.  The electric shock that resonated on the right side of my body scared the shit out of me.  Ms. Anesthesia guided me through everything she was doing and explained it all.  Apparently, every doc does their own thing when administrating the juice.



Moments after The Great Epidural.  God bless modern medicene!



And then it was chill time (in between texting and calling various family and friends, of course)

 For the next hour I was itching like a crack addict.  She said this is normal and is a side effect from another med that she gives in order to get more immediate relief.  So for an hour I feel The Warm Numb paired with The Annoying Itch.

Soon after, the doc comes in and I can't help myself...

"You were wrong!"

"I told you things can change quickly!"

"Well, you didn't hurt my feelings, I'm glad to be here!"

"You got your epidural...? (notices the wires and such)...oh, yes you did..."

She checks out my cervix and I'm 8cm!

"Let's go ahead and break your water."

"Yeah, might as well...since you're already down there..."

I'm nothing if not classy...

"Damn, flood the room, girl!"

And my doctor is nothing but professional...:)

But after the bag of water was broken...that's when things started going downhill...



waiting...



nesting and a clutch blowout. true story.

It's interesting to me how nesting energy levels can swell and then recoil. I have days where I look at all the toys on the floor and just hope that I don't trip on anything.

Other days, I see the toys on the floor and the skid marks from the tricycle and the nicks on the wall and dust and the dirt and the brown bananas and the shitty-ass caulk work around the kitchen sink. 

And the cluttered bookcase.  And the plant that isn't getting enough light.  And the...

You get it right?

The husb, after 6 years of marriage, has finally taken a step back.  Whether the Mrs. is prego or not, he no longer interferes or comments about my need to clean, rearrange, or organize.  He just lets me roar and burn 'till the fire dims and the everything is "just so."

So, since I already have a natural proclivity to "nesting," imagine how I get when it's "3rd trimester nesting." 

Oh, it's a little bit of the crazy pants time.

And NOTHING is good enough.  Or done enough.

For example, Saturday morning.  It should be a time of pancakes, coffee (tea for me!) and pajamas until noon.  But somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, I take a look around the kitchen and feel a great need, a pure biological urge if you will, to change out -not only all the face plates to the electrical outlets- but the actual electric sockets as well. 

The only thing I'm willing to "make do" with at this time, is just doing the electrical outlets on the main floor.  All 18 of them.  We'll deal with the basement and upstairs later.

(crazy pants)

And when I say "we" I mean the husb.

I also feel it's a good time to get new brakes for the car. 

(crazy pants but also necessary)

So we drop off the car at the car repair shop and then go to the nearest hardware store.

After 3 trips to the hardware store, we finally get all the parts and accessories to ROCK OUT some very necessary "we gotta do it today" socket replacement.  Fuck yeah.

By this time the car is done (yay for new brakes!).  We drive to pick up the car and as we're pulling out, the other car (the one where the tree fell on top of it) suddenly decides it doesn't want to go into first gear.

Guess what car, after 170,000 miles, needs a new clutch?  Of course, Milo and I were all the way home before I checked my phone (I had turned off the blue tooth and the ringer was on low) to hear the exasperated voice messages of my husband telling me to turn around and come get him because he had been stranded by the clutch blowing out.  What's funny is that Milo, during the whole car ride, kept asking, "Where's daddy?  Where daddy go?"  I lied and kept saying, "Daddy is right behind us.  I see him. He's right there."  Of course, I just assumed he was several cars back.  When I had pulled into our driveway and still no daddy, I had assumed he swung by the liquor store for a well-deserved 80 proof.

I know...it's getting hard for me to keep up with all this myself...

The next day?  Sunday?


I'm nesting my ass in some sand.  Rock on with my brand new maternity bathing suit! 



No electrical outlets in sight!  I think I'm safe here (and my poor husband) from any nesting instincts!

 And what am I doing on Monday?  Why restaining the back deck, of course...

warning: mushy nostalgia hormone in effect.

26 weeks pregnant, with Milo

Uh...  Really?  I hardly even look pregnant, much less 6 months along...



26 weeks with #2.

I've met many a-lady who say how different they carried each of their children.  Whether girl or boy or all boys or all girls, each pregnancy was different and unique in their own ways.  And then there are some women who say their pregnancies have been nearly identical.

My lifestyle is certainly a tad different than when prego with de Milo.  I'm not commuting an obscene amount of time and gas up and down the interstate 5 days a week, working 40 hours/week.  I don't have the luxury of sleeping in every weekend.  Well...at least when the husb is off on one of his super important, super top secret excursions across the country and underwater ship cruises.  Otherwise, thankyouverymuch for taking on "dad duty" at 6am on saturdays and sundays... :) Muah, me love you long time!

And the big one:  I have an (almost!) 3 year old to contend with.  Milo has finally caught on to the *change* in mama's belly, the little brother that will metamorphosize this little 3-some into a full-fledged family of four.

"Milo, where's the baby?"

"Mama's belly!"  -as he points to my boob.

Milo has spontaneously kissed my belly -which I used to think was kinda weird when I'd see pics of little toddlers kissing their mom's big 'ol pregnant belly.  But I get it now.  It's love, it's bonding, it's endearing...

And, as I'm closing in on the 2nd trimester -the 3rd (and FiNaL!) showcase showdown in T minus 2 days!- I've been amazed how quickly this prego-lisciousness has gone by.  Some days "easy", some days "painful and achy and yucky and tired and all the above" this has been a wonderful journey I've been blessed/amazed/thankful/happy to make.  And to do it this time around -with more confidence, less anxiety- while sharing it with my *life partner* (yes, I call him that from time to time.  The gays don't get to have all the cool lingo ;) and with my not so little bundle of joy is just all I've never thought I wanted but -and to quote The Sound of Music-

 "Somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good..."



hang on, little man...You won't be a singleton for much longer...



24 weeks (Preg-head prevails!)

 Preg-head is a term I coined (coined?) when with Milo-child.  It's the forgetfulness, spaciful "huh?" Oh shit, I just locked myself out of the house -whatdoyamean my tire is flat AGAIN- moments that I have been experiencing.  ALOT.

It's an equal mix of totally my fault and WTF LIFE!

It's not fun. It's not so amazing.

So it's tuesday morning.  Or was it wednesday?  And I have everything ready to go: kid dressed, me dressed, Milo's lunch and blanket/pillow, purse, door shuuuuut....OH FUuuuuuCK.  KEYS!  KEYS  MOTHER FLIPPIN' KEYS...!!!!!

Milo and I go to the back door.  Of course it's locked.  Of course all the windows are locked closed.  I wonder how much a new window will cost.  My life is suddenly at a standstill.  But I have a cell phone!  I call friend #1.  But she's not answering.  Of course not, she's busy.  She's in her minivan singing Barney songs with her laughing/smiling almost 3 year old happy-child while he sips on cucumber water.  She has it all together. And she does it with finesse and kindness.  She would never lock herself out of her house.  And if she did, she's got 3 back up plans. 

I call another friend.  The one who JUST had a baby.  Like a week ago.  She'd LOVE to drop everything after a night full of nursing, spit up and meconium diapers.

But she answers!  I ramble about all my issues and -like a good friend- offers up her husband and her tea and sympathy condolences for being on my own -and pregnant- and flooding with progesterone making me an even more spacey and floppy person than usual....and then I remember...

the credit card trick!

With Milo jumping in puddles in the middle of street and my phone nudged between my shoulder and ear, I successfully OPEN THE DOOR with a mere slide of the card.

BEAUTIFUL!  YES!

I thank my friend for "being there" and I hang up.  Now.  Where are those keys?!

I'm flipping couches, I'm digging in drawars, I double check pockets.  This is ridiculous.  I think back to last night.  And then I remember.

Last night, as in 12 hours ago, I left the keys -on top of the car- outside.  In the rain.  In public.  Where anyone could say, "Hey! Keys!  Let's go pay Lynsey a little visit at 2 in the morning!  Or better yet...TAKE THE CAR FOR A LITTLE JOY RIDE!"

I dash outside.  My keys are sitting there all shiny and wet.  On top of the car. But not only my keys, but my husband's set of keys.

I had let Milo play in the cars while I mowed the lawn.

Mowing the lawn is also "not fun" and not "so amazing" when 6 months pregnant.

What next?  WHAT NEXT??!

bathtime at 12 weeks

what the...?



"Mama...is your belly okay?"



"...because it looks...."



"A WHAT?!  A Baby?!?  I can't even look at you right now..."



my children have defied the ancient Chinese: true story

When Milo was about 2 months old, we went to spend a week with my mom.  The husb flew off to some far off land for a week and the thought of being left alone with this little creature was soaringly overwhelming. 

One night, mom took us to have dinner with a friend of hers who is a Medium.  Mediums are people who have the ability to recieve and give messages with the afterlife.

Just for fun, I asked her if she felt any interesting energy from Milo. 

She said a few things regarding his personality: he will LOVE the outdoors, he has ALOT of Leo in him (side note: my due date was for a Leo, but he was born a Cancer)

She went on to say that Milo was supposed to be a girl. 

My first born was supposed to be a girl?  What happened?

My mind started racing: is he a girl trapped in a boy's body?  Is he going to persue gender reassignment surgery when he's older?  Are we going to be an episode on the Discovery Channel?  Will he change his name to Miley?!

The medium went on to say he and his sister have had past lives together and vowed to stay together in the next life as well. The girl was supposed to be born first. When *I* was ready to have a baby, the girl got scared, so Milo said he would go first.

"He's going to be looking for his sister at around age 4.   But right now,  he is LOVING being an only child."

(Which is true, because when I ask Milo, "Do you want a brother or a sister?"  He replies, "No, thanks.")

Right from the start, I knew the Milo-fetus was a Boy.  And when it was confirmed at 20 weeks and when I held the Milo-baby in my arms...everything felt RIGHT.

I had also referred to a Chinese birth gender chart.  The Chinese Birth Chart supposedly can predict the gender of your baby even before it's conceived with over 90% accuracy.  You line up the mother's lunar age with the month you conceive (or plan to conceive) and you get your gender prediction.

When I was pregnant with Milo, it predicted I was having a girl...

(to quote Led Zepplin)  "And it makes me wonder..."

Did my unborn children defy the ancient Chinese?!

So, according to the Chinese, this baby I'm currently carrying is a BOY.

I had a dream the other night that I was walking in a crowd.  A girl came running up to me, grabbed my arm and said, "Hey! Just wanted to let you know that your baby girl is going to be born healthy!!  She might have to go back to the hospital shortly after birth, but she is going to be FINE!"

I said, "You know I'm pregnant?"

She looked at me as if to say, I don't have time for this, of course I know you're pregnant!

"And it's a girl?  Really?"

I had so many questions, but then she ran off...

And I woke up.

Okay one more story:

I've got a friend who has an uncanny ability to *know* what a pregnant woman is having.

She looked at me from her hospital bed (she'd had baby #2 the day before) and said, matter-of-factly, "you're having a girl."

I said, "How can you tell?  The excess acne on my face?  The extreme and prolonged nausea?   Am I radiating tutu's and tea parties??!!"

"I just know."

It'll be another 2 months or so before we find out The Official Verdict.  We shall see...

stay tuned...

Blurred to protect the Innocent. And the Guilty.

The morning after clean-up crew.  My HOA dollars hard at work.

So, yeah.
Here's a pic of my neighbors. One is street sweeping while the other is drinking a substance unknown while... supervising?

"You missed a spot."

Did I mention it's 27 degrees outside?

It's like they just woke up and said, "Top of the morning to you, Neighbor! Why don't you grab a broom and a cocktail and meet me outside? Get dressed?  Nah, just pull on something festive!  It's the HOLIDAZE"

I love my Klass-Act neighborhood.  Keeps me happy.

An artist is at work here, people.

God DAMN FUCKING cookies from scratch.
GOD damn  1994 stove that doesn't heat evenly or clean itself.
STupid Fucking smoke detector who is like a crack whore on constant PMS wailing at any sign of innocent cooking or baking!
Forgetful SPACE CADET MOI who assumes I have enough butter AND FUCKING SUGAR in the house to make these FUCKING COOKIES FROM scratch!!
You know who sells "crystalized ginger"?  NOBODY. Or all the stores are sold out because of chipper cheerFULL free-for-all Betty Homemakers of the world STOCK PILED THEM IN THEIR FUCKING CUSTOM BUILT 500 SQUARE FOOT PANTRY.

Are cookies supposed to be burnt on the bottom and RARE on the inside?

I EVEN BOUGHT CREAM OF TARTAR.

I don't even know what that is!!  But it was on sale and apparently people buy this during the month of December!!

There's flour on my CEILING.  On my POPCORN FUCKING CEILING that my husband and I just painted!!

PAINTED! You know how much fun painting a popcorn ceiling is!??!!  OH, IT'S LOTS.

And THEN...I don't have the right PAN, the thermometer thingy, or fucking PAM spray. 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED 4.5 INCH FLUTED INDIVIDUAL TART PANS WITH REMOVEABLE BOTTOMS??

I got me a removeable bottom.

It's called "go to fucking aisle 3 at the grocery store, buy a bag of oreos and bring THOSE to the fucking cookie swap!!"

I'll layer those bitches on wax paper in an airtight container and tie a goddamn red ribbon around it.  And THAT will be THAT.

October 1, 2010: Reenlistment, Annapolis

 On November 18, 1999 my future husband joined the Navy. He flew to Chicago where he spent 9 weeks in boot camp. Upon completion, his parents drove from Georgia, through a blizzard, to see their middle child graduate.  Shortly thereafter, Justin spent a year in Pensacola, FL going to A and C school.  After a 2 week reprieve, Justin was sent to Hawaii for 3 years. The next duty station was in Connecticut (where we met).  When we got orders to move to D.C., we quickly agreed this would be our last stop. 

But, as usual-all-ways, things changed... 

                                                     June, 2008, Navy Memorial, Washington, D.C.

Because after 9 years, 3 duty stations, 1 wife, 1 baby on the way, and a bad economy...my husband decided to reenlist for 3 more years...

And then suddenly?  It's that time again.  To this date, my husband has served close to 11 years.  Safe to say the odds of staying active duty for the full 20 are in sight...

Here are some shots of the ceremoney...and an added bonus?  My in-laws, who drove up from Georgia, got to witness their first, albeit brief, reenlistment ceremony.

my happy place

Every so often I head back to where we got married.

and I watch our son play.

Where the weather, where the air, where the energy
is all-ways peace-full

I tell him, "this is where mommy and daddy came together with their families and friends and said "'forever.'"

He runs around happily: soaking, sponging.

contemplating risks

A mixture of nostalgia, stories, deep breathing, harbor noise, big sails, grass, flowers, you, me...

perfection.