Amazing

Let's talk about amazing. I've been fortunate enough to witness a number of amazing events, and experience a handful of amazing times. Here are a few examples...

This is an amazing sunset as seen from our balcony. This view doesn't get old. 

This is an amazing rainbow we saw after a storm. Notice the orange sky? We stared at it for a while. It's a unique sight. 

There are two amazing things in this image. 1.The city in the background is amazing. I'm proud of my hometown Cleveland. 2.The team in the foreground is amazing. Always a Cleveland Indians fan. It will also be an amazing celebration when we win a championship. Hang in there. 

This is a snapshot of an amazing day. Here, we're in the middle of a wild afternoon of being with family and friends. I like this image because it's a still photo of a candid conversation. Of all our wedding pics, this one summarizes us best. 

Above is Ash Cave in Hocking Hills, Ohio. From this angle, we're standing inside looking out. It's amazing how erosion and other elements shaped a mammoth size cave. We traveled here on a very cold day when the snow added an amazing touch. . 

This is an amazing parking job. Looking for a parking spot in Columbus on a Saturday for a Buckeyes football game isn't easy. CJ - the gentleman on the right - parallel parked that car in that spot. Only 3 inches separate the rear and front bumpers from the neighboring cars. Amazing to witness. 

I don't have an image to post about this next amazing event. But I'd like to tell you about how amazing it was. 


A couple years ago, I had appendicitis. I spent a couple hours in some pain waiting for the doctors to remove the angry appendage. I kept telling Wife how much it hurt, and how I haven't felt anything like it before. As the pain intensified, I kept giving Wife updates on how the pain was and where it was at. Eventually, the appendix was removed. 


This past week, my wife spent a total of 39 hours in labor. Her contractions went from frequent painful discomfort to continuous agony in a short time. While it was evident to see she wasn't feeling great, she never complained out loud. At one point, the doctor asked, "On a scale of 1 to 10 - 10 being the worst pain you've ever experienced - what is your pain level?" In a calm tone, Wife replied "A 10." 


10? Based on her body language, I would have guessed it was a 6 - at most. This quiet acceptance of ongoing pain by my wife was amazing. As the day unfolded, I checked the monitor to see her contractions. With them only 3 minutes apart and lasting for 2 minutes, she responded in the same demeanor as she had 30 hours prior - just handling it as it happened. She remained very stoic throughout the whole process; treating labor and delivery like it's something she's done a million times. 


Let's make one thing clear: We are a competitive couple. It takes a lot for us to earn each other's respect. We don't congratulate one other for small accomplishments. Rather, we challenge each other to beat the record, set a new top score, or one-up the other. When I'm complaining, she tells me to stop whining. When she complains, I tell her that her mom is only a phone call away. 

But last week...

She rewrote my perspective of tough. I've been looking for a way to challenge myself and test my toughness - competing in a Tough Mudder race, joining a MMA class, running in freezing temps, finishing a triathlon. But she comes along and smashes to pieces everything I thought tough was, and she didn't even flinch. 

That's amazing. 

I don't think I'll ever see a sunset, or a parallel parking job that will be more amazing than the toughness my Wife showed last week. She has set the bar of amazing to a new height. 


There is an off chance that the celebration for a Cleveland championship may someday be more amazing than that though. 

Breathe

Anticipating a baby is fun, but it's not always easy. There's a lot to worry about. Is he safe? Is he breech? And so on. Wife and I have been locked in a state of suspense for a while. Whenever he would move around, she would say,"I just want to see him with his chest going up and down and breathing," to make sure he's healthy. 

We got our wish a few days ago.

We met our son for the first time late this past Friday night after a long time of Wife being in labor. 


The delivery of our son is one of those events that will remain etched into the fabric of my memory for a long time. With my adrenaline spiked (I couldn't imagine what my wife's was like), I can remember how each of my senses perceived the experience. 


In all the hustle of doctors, nurses, and resident doctors, I remember my first actions. I checked on Wife. She assured me she was fine. Then I checked on our baby boy. I watched as the resident doctor cleaned him up, and I remembered what Wife said about wanting to see his chest going up and down to assure us he was breathing. 


He was breathing great. I watched as his lungs expand and then exhale his first breaths of air. He threw in a couple of whimpers for a last convincing measure. His steady breathing helped me breathe easy enough to release all that suspense about his health. 


That night and the following days, we both enjoy watching him sleep. As he rests, his chest rhythmically rises and falls letting us know that he's healthy. We also get to see his lungs in action when he belts out loud cries during his diaper changes. Sometimes he struggles to catch his breath after he spits up or is coming of a crying binge. 


Now I think about how else we'll be able to watch his breathing develops as he grows older. We'll get to see his lungs work up the effort it takes to exhale his first words. We'll watch him try to catch his breath as he races around the house during a rousing game of chase. We'll have to right him when he breathes out his first bad word. We may watch as his lungs put forth the effort to play an instrument for the first time. If he decides to sing, we'll get to watch the effort he breathes into every note. We may or may not look forward to the day he musters up the courage to introduce us to his first girlfriend. We'll may watch as he makes a commencement speech, or says "I do." 


We'll watch his lungs throughout his life as they do all the talking, singing, laughing, and breathing for a long time.


In any future situation, we are just glad to see his lungs inhale and exhale over and over right now. It reminds us that he's healthy. It's his way of saying I'm finally here.

New Fan in Town

Only good part about watching the Browns game today was cheering them on with my newest buddy. He did a great job. 

Hoping this is the start to a great tradition. His mom is a big fan too. The three of us can now wait patiently for a championship together. 

Still Waiting

"You can't stay pregnant forever." 

Yes, these obvious words of hope were given to my anxiously waiting wife by hospital staff as she lay belly-up on a table during the doctor appointment this morning. While Wife expressed her displeasure at the waiting game, the STNA could only provide an eternal reference to help calm her nerves. I suppose it's not fair to be so sarcastic about the STNA's advice. She sees women everyday who just want to deliver the babies they've been carrying for months. 

Wife has been pregnant for 39+ weeks. We are days away from the due date. She is ready to deliver...now. Have you ever waited for the ice cream truck as a kid? The truck blares loud and repetitive music to announce is coming to a street near you. Kids can detect this music well. But sometimes the anticipation of the ice cream truck fogs a child's ability to hear the actual truck itself. A kid may be sitting in the basement watching a movie and hear the microwave go off upstairs. But the anxiety of waiting will tell the child "No, it's definitely the truck. Let's go!" Up comes the child - dollar in hand - out the front door; he/she arrives at the end of the driveway to a desolate street. 

Anticipating a baby delivery is similar to waiting for the ice cream truck. 

Suddenly, everything that Wife does becomes a symptom that indicates labor is only hours away. Every sneeze or muscle twitch is Googled and shown to be a symptom of approaching labor. I foolishly called her out and said, "You're not even to your due date yet. Give it a rest." Without hesitation, Wife shot back "Then YOU try carrying around a baby for 40 weeks and we'll see who starts talking."

I now stay silent; and even supportive in her anticipation of this delivery. As the due date approached, she has tried some interesting ways to begin induction:

A couple pulled us aside to inform us that Chipolte works. They said to just grab a burrito and within the day, we'll be rushing to the hospital. It worked for them, and another couple they knew. I won't pass on an excuse to consume a burrito made with ingredients that aren't injected with any hormones or antibiotics, and support family farmers that care for the land. Yum. We tried this last week. It didn't work. But I did finish my burrito, then started eating hers. She may have only made it a quarter of the way through her meal. 

Wife read that walking and exercise works every time. Since that time she's climbed more flights of stairs than a firefighter in training school. And she walks almost every day. As the temperature drops, she only increases her milage. Despite her efforts, no luck.

Just when we thought all hope was lost, December 10th showed promise. The calendar showed that there would be a full moon that night. This is the kind of break we've been anticipating. Her hospital experience says that crazy stuff - including many pregnancies - occur on nights of the full moon. As the sun went down that night, Wife came to life. She became excited. She asked questions like, "Do you think it would help if I would face the moon?" And, "Should we drive down to a beach?" We are 9 hours away from a body of water that experiences any tidal influence. This girl's gonna lose her mind. 

My biggest fears about this full moon madness were overshadowing the possibility of her going into labor. While Wife stayed occupied with trying to get induced, I feared she would pull a Michael Jackson in Thriller and start to transform into a werewolf. "No way" I thought. That's ridiculous. But her behavior still concerned me. 

'Cause this is thriller, thriller night. And no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike. You know it's thriller, thriller night. You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller night. 

When we saw the doctor this morning, she tried yet another technique. Sweeping the membranes. I'll spare you the details. As it stands, we're still waiting on whether or not the sweeping process worked or not. 

None of these baby inducing tactics may work. They could all be done in vain. We - especially she - can be waiting in angst for a long time still. Good news though: you can't stay pregnant forever. At least we have that going for us. 

Lessons (about the bird)

It is tradition - a rite of passage even - for fathers to teach their sons valuable lessons. Unknowingly, young boys soak in every bit of information their father's bestow upon them. 


My father taught me how to whittle a stick with a pocket knife (a valuable skill when I get the urge to topple a grizzly with a pointed tree branch). He showed me how to bait a hook, cast a line, set the hook, and reel in a fish. Dad told me how to handle the bullies at school with one swift hit (worked every time). Learned how to hit a baseball, shoot a basketball, and tackle a running back. 


One thing ol' Pop neglected to teach me was something I witnessed recently. 


I attended the Cleveland Browns game this past Sunday. They were playing a division rival and I heard there were a lot of seats still available. Wife and I nabbed seats for 5 bucks each. When others ask, "Where are your seats?" I always reply, "high." That's the only way to describe the general vicinity of our ticket purchases - high. "Up" is also another common term. 

Our view of the game is usually above the first cloud deck.  
(go ahead and count the little helmets on the field - there's 11 each). 

After the hike to the top of Browns Stadium, I realized the 5 dollar ticket price already paid for itself. We were in the only part of the stadium - the top 10 rows - that didn't get rained on. We had a large overhang above us. Sitting in the Stratosphere has it's advantages. I carried a 'Yeah I planned that' type attitude the rest of the night. 



This particular game featured a battle of defenses. The score was 0-0 for a while until our opponents realized scoring wasn't that hard after all. Running in the first touchdown of the game, the other team trotted off the field to a pouring of boos that the Cleveland faithful rained down as hard as the weather they sat in. Not surprisingly, there were a variety of obscene gestures directed at the opponents as well. 


Stewing in my own pot of anger, I glanced down three rows to see a gentleman flipping the bird. I wouldn't have thought much about it until it was obvious there was a young boy on his lap. I assumed it was his son. This assumption was confirmed as the dad leaned to his son and held the middle digit in front of his face as if to show the lad how the bird works. Still maintaining a good flipping-off posture, the dad continued to talk with his son. And talk. And talk. 


I don't know what he said, but I imagined some remarks went like this:


"Well son, this is our only answer to the constant drubbing of touchdowns."
"Only pansies wear purple and black."
"Sometimes words aren't enough, and we have to use hand signals."
"Use this gesture only in traffic and at Browns games."


For a quick second I thought to myself: it kind of looks like he's teaching his son his first lesson on the middle finger. Not a moment later the little boy raised his left hand with only one finger showing. And it wasn't to tell the other team they were in first place in the division. He was putting his thoughts into gesture. 


Couldn't decide if it was better to be proud of this passing of knowledge, or slightly disturbed. 


Either way, I was never taught how to show such distaste with one hasty flip of a finger. I plan on showing my son a lot of the lessons my dad taught me. Whittling, fishing, car care, shaving, batting, shooting, driving, money management, hanging up Christmas lights, and so on. Not so sure the bird is going to be a part of that..........depending on how the Browns continue to do.