The Birth Story

Well, here it is.  Exactly one month later.  Apologies for not updating sooner but I'm guessing most of you who follow me on here heard the news that my baby was, in fact, born.  And he's lovely.  And actually, you know what, I take back my apologies for not updating, I have been falling madly in love with my little Cash and had no time for anything else :)  Enjoy.  A special thank you to Lindsay and Tanya, my attending midwives from the Minnesota Birth Center, Angela, my amazing doula, Lisa, our dear friend and photographer, and all of our friends and family who supported our birth from near and far.

The Birth Story

I am a psychotherapist.  This means two things:  1) People inevitably ask me about their brother/sister/husband/Rabbi who is having relationship problems and want my opinion and 2) I psychoanalyze myself…a lot.  Childbirth was the first thing in my life that I could not think my way through.  In fact, during our Blooma Educators childbirth class, I remember them saying one thing that stuck with me, “There’s only room for one head in your pelvis, your baby’s”.  I latched on (Get it? Breastfeeding joke!) and even used this anecdote during some of my client sessions to try to help others overcome the fear of childbirth.  Little did I know that keeping my own head out of my pelvis during birth would be an incredibly challenging and life-changing task.

Dan and I attended a wedding of a dear friend on Saturday night, August 10^th.  As we were driving, I had a slight intuition that this would be our last date night as a duo, though a big part of me remained confident that we would get to use our gift card at the St. Paul grill on Sunday morning for their delicious brunch (seriously, it’s good).  We did get to stop at Sonic for tots and a malt before the wedding so that made me happy too.  We had a good time at the wedding but towards the end of the dinner, I just could not get comfortable in my chair, walking around, or anywhere else for that matter.  We decided to call it a night.

Here it is, the very last photo of pre-labor Carise.  No, I didn't drink Hennessey....though maybe I would have if I knew what was coming that night.

We got home and got ready to go to sleep.  The discomfort continued while I was lying in bed.  It seemed that all of my “go to” sleeping positions were failing me.  Leg over 12 pillows and lying on my side…rush of pain.  Child’s pose with pillows propped under my chest…rush of pain.  Sitting up in bed and bingeing on Tums…rush of pain and didn’t touch the heartburn.  Refusing to think I was having actual contractions, I decided to “try out” my contraction counter app (you know, for when I was going into actual labor).  You will notice a theme of disbelief throughout this story and this was the beginning. 

Dan began to notice my discomfort and unusual amount of wiggling, even for a full term pregnant lady.  I told him that I was having some pain rushes but it would probably go away if I could just fall asleep.  He popped out of bed like a hot kernel and started doing household chores and packing a birth center bag.  I continued to try to get comfortable and was mildly annoyed that Dan was getting his hopes up.  I was sure we would both be disappointed and we would chalk this up to one of the many “fake labor” experiences that everyone is supposed to have.

Well, as you may have figured out the “pain rushes” were actual contractions and they did not stop.  I sent a text to Angela, our doula, at some point in the wee hours of Saturday night to let her know what I was feeling.  I made sure to let her know that I thought this wasn’t anything significant (denial) but within the same text I mentioned that the contractions kept waking me up and that they were consistently 5-6 minutes apart.  I tentatively informed our friend Lisa, who would be photographing our birth, that she might want to clear her schedule for Sunday afternoon if this kept up.

It kept up.  Sunday was pretty much a blur.  I was tired.  We were both tired.  Our last solid sleep was Friday night and had I known that I would have slept for 16 hours.  We did everything people who labor at home are told to do.  We walked outside, I got in the bathtub, we watched movies, Dan did house chores.  It became very important that he vacuum the dog hair since I was rolling around on the floor during contractions.  I was instructed by Angela to try and get some sleep at some point.  The problem was, my contractions were as frequent and regular as reggae beat and relentlessly dedicated to keeping me awake. 

By 5pm on Sunday evening we were frustrated and tired and decided it was time for Angela to come over and help us out.  In my head, she was going to come tell me how to stop my fake labor (denial) and give Dan a much-needed break from being my only shoulder to hang on.  She showed up and began what I like to call “doula boot camp”.  I told her I either wanted the contractions to stop or hurry the hell up and get on with life.  Before I knew it, I was taking stairs two-at-a-time, squatting next to my baby’s crib, lunging sideways in the stairwell, and pushing my energy to the limit.  But this was nowhere near the limit.  The limit was still to come.

At about 7pm, Lisa showed up with her camera.  Lisa photographed our wedding three years ago, my brother’s wedding, my mom’s 50^th birthday celebration, my headshots when I opened my own business, my maternity photos a few weeks earlier…she has seen the most important moments of my life through the camera lens and supported us through it all.  When she walked in, the small part of me that believed this was real labor got a little bigger and with it came a rush of emotions.  I sobbed on Dan’s shoulder, realizing what I was expected to do and doubting whether I was ready or what it would do to our relationship.  After that emotional release, I felt ready and willing to take it to the next level.

At 9:30 we headed to the Minnesota Birth Center where Tanya and Lindsay, our midwives, would be waiting for us.  I had two contractions while driving on Chicago Avenue towards the birth center and Dan yelled at a jaywalker.  Who can jay walk at a time like this?  In my head, I thought I needed to be much more in labor than I was in order for the midwives to take me seriously so I (shamefully) embellished some of my first contractions at the birth center so they wouldn’t send me home…I really wanted to use their tub. 

With the lights dim, candles burning, my playlist playing, I settled into the marvelous birthing tub.  I labored for hours and grew more and more exhausted with each contraction.  The nagging thoughts began.  Will I have the energy to do this?  I haven’t slept since Friday night and now I’m expected to birth a child…how the hell am I going to do it?  What if my body gives up?  Will I end up at the hospital?

At some point into active labor, I was told that I was dilating within the normal curve of progression but on the lower end of normal.  I was unaware of how many centimeters I was.  I did not want any numbers in my labor experience since numbers are what drove me crazy during my pregnancy…which is a whole ‘nuther story.  The midwives asked if I would agree to them breaking my waters.  This came as a relief.  At least SOMETHING was changing. They warned me that the rhythm of labor would intensify which, although the nagging thoughts were questioning if I could do it, felt like assurance to me that it would be over soon.

Intensify is a mild term for what happened.  And I don’t mean intensify just in a physical sense of the word.  My emotions, my nagging thoughts, my self-doubt, my fears, my need for my husband, my fear about whether my baby would be healthy…everything was magnified.  The height of the physical intensity occurred when we realized baby was hanging out posterior and we needed a solution.  Angela and the midwives discussed what would work best and after some healthy debate, the solution would be to lay me on the bed in a spinal twist to endure three contractions.  The first attempt at this ended with me springing to my hands and knees and insisting that there was no way I could endure the pain.  The midwives firmly informed me that this was necessary and proceeded to hold my legs down.  I instructed Dan to kneel on the floor next to the bed and not break eye contact.  I let out my animal noises at point blank range next to my husband and he remained steady through the intensity.  It wasn’t until after the birth that I was grateful for this moment since many birth teams may have suggested interventions rather than a little “tough love” J.

I got in the tub for what would be the last time before welcoming our baby into the world.  I didn’t know this at the time and if I would have known that Cash was coming soon, I may have felt better.  I felt utterly hopeless.  I still didn’t believe this was real and more importantly, felt powerless against my fatigue.  It just didn’t make sense how I was going to get through.  I mentioned this over and over.  I asked the team how I was going to do this and they said “one contraction at a time”.  Coincidentally, during each contraction I would express that I couldn’t do it, only to be reminded that I WAS doing it.

Right before I started pushing I disappeared to somewhere else.  I fixated on a spot on the wall and took mini naps in between contractions.  I had no energy to speak or interact with my team and heard myself making noises that I didn’t know could come from a human.  I briefly noticed that everyone in the room was sitting and watching me, looking very tired.  This was frustrating since I thought I was wasting their time and would not actually be giving birth (SERIOUS denial), but in reality, everyone else in the room trusted my body besides me.  They knew I was doing what I needed and all it would take was a little more patience. 

With wisdom and confidence, Tanya then instructed me to keep from expelling all of my air and to direct it downwards towards my pelvis during each contraction.  It was time to push.  Angela looked me in the eye and said “Cash is coming, it’s time”. 

Pushing was an amazing experience.  I distinctly remember the moment where the team told me to reach down and feel my baby’s head starting to emerge.  Dan recalls that my energy shifted from exhaustion to determination at this point.  I felt baby’s hair, and lots of it!  Lisa recalled that she noticed nurses coming in with different equipment for the baby and got excited along with us.  With each pushing contraction my voice got a little more hoarse and my body more and more exhausted but my spirit was alive.  I knew I would be crowning soon and after being instructed to not push during crowning (SO difficult!), the next thing I knew I was being told to reach down and pull my baby out of the water. 

Cash Michael Beard was born at 5:25am on August 12^th, 30 hours after the first contractions started.  As I pulled him onto my chest, he wrapped his arms around my breasts, he knew who mama was!  I was elated.  Immediately the pain and exhaustion of the past two days of labor were a distant memory.  I had my son.  I sat in the tub with him on my chest for a number of blissful minutes while the whole room expressed their awe over his hair and his size!  He weighed in at a hefty 10.2lbs and I felt even more like a super human for doing it all naturally.

Dan got his chance to hold Cash while I was working on getting the placenta out and getting cleaned and sewed up (while it may be TMI, apparently only 2 stitches for a 10lb baby is pretty good…I guess there WAS some wisdom to not pushing during crowning right away).  I didn’t care what was going on down there.  I had birthed my son and felt on top of the world. 

The next few hours were some of the most sacred of my life.  We nestled into the birthing suite with our new little one while the wonderful staff at the birth center cared for us, made me bread, fixed an herbal bath for Cash and myself, and celebrated our new life with us.  Though I intend to dedicate an entire separate post to this, I will never stop singing praises of how wonderful the experience at the Minnesota Birth Center was for our family.  At no point did they show anything but unwavering confidence in me as I labored.  Initially there was some attention being paid to Cash’s glucose levels and heightened respirations because of his size and instead of approaching this from a place of fear, the nurses and staff monitored him with care, instructed me to be peaceful and keep him on my chest, and explained everything to us in a calm, rational manner.  I trusted them completely the whole time.  When my family came to meet their newest family member, the staff shared in their excitement and made the space safe and joyous for all of us. 

The weeks since have brought equal amounts of joy and challenge.  As I am navigating the world as a mama, I find myself daydreaming often about my birth experience and how I had to completely let go of the “rationale” of it all and let my body do what it was made to do.  The moment I realized I couldn’t think my way through labor was both the scariest and most rewarding moment of my life.  I was dipping into reserves of strength and confidence that I had been unaware of up until this point.  The lasting memories of labor are not of the pain or discomfort, but of the moment I pulled Cash out of the water and onto my body and the overwhelming bliss that accompanied.  In the middle of the night when my mind and body are weary yet my child demands my energy, I replay the birth and feel the joy once again.  While driving in the car with Cash, I play the birth playlist and believe that it brings both of us comfort.  Never again will I think I am incapable of something.  Never again will I believe that my body is weak and insufficient.  And I will never forget the feeling of love I had for my child from the moment I first felt his soft head against my cheek.

Happy One Month my gorgeous little human....

"Soooo...have you had that baby yet?"

I have spent a good week debating on whether to blog about this particular question.  I weighed the facts that a) complaining about this may make me seem like an ungrateful Veruca Salt of a person, b) some who read this may be offended, and c) that it violates my intention of not complaining at all during the last few weeks of my pregnancy so my baby gets tricked into thinking that his/her mama is not nearly as cynical as people make her out to be.  Ultimately, I decided that based on scientific research asking all my pregnant friends, my sentiments are shared by many, therefore making this a message worth spreading.

As some of my loyal followers may have noticed, I have not blogged for weeks.  My brief explanation is that I have been on this "do whatever I want" kick for my whole 3rd trimester.  Many times I sat down with my laptop to blog an update and looked across the room to my bed or a bag of potato chips and abruptly changed my plans.  People keep saying that babies change your life and your "me" time so I've been overachieving in the indulgence department and truly not feeling bad about it.  So my apologies if I left you hanging but here I am!  Just in time for one more blog before the big show.

Ok, so on to the main topic of the day....

There is but one question that elicits pure ire in the hyper-sensitive nerves of late 3rd trimester pregnant women across the nation, and that question is...

"So, have you had that baby yet?"

Other versions of this question may come in the form of:

"Are you STILL pregnant?"
"Have you had any symptoms of labor?"
"How long will they let you go?"
"Soooo...any news!!?"
"You haven't called/emailed/facebooked/tweeted/showed up at the DQ in a few hours, are you in labor?"

By the way, if you're wondering what the answer to whether I've had my baby, you can click on this link until further notice.


But let's really think about this, folks, with the exception of that one night stand you had in Cabo, you ALWAYS hear about someone giving birth to a child within your realm of interest....usually within minutes and at the very longest, hours of the child being born.  We, as the people carrying the child, have thought about the joy of finally being able to share the pictures/name/birth story with our loved ones since the day those two little lines appeared on that plastic stick.  So all of this to say, we have no intention of hiding this news from you in any way, shape, or form when it happens.

Now, I'm not a completely jaded asshole, I fully realize that asking this question is usually someone wanting to share their excitement and joy in a way that shows they are paying attention.  In fact, believe me when I say that I am beyond grateful that our little buttermilk biscuit will be ushered into a world full of people who love him/her more than life itself.  However, I do feel the need to say for pregnant persons everywhere that there is only one thing that we want during these last few weeks:

To be left alone.

This waiting time has biological and psychological purposes.  In the wild and in more primal human cultures, females will often be seen retreating to the woods or a safe, quiet, place to labor and prep for the birth of their offspring.  This allows her to feel safe and focus on all of the sensations within her body and mind.  Even in our modern urban amazon, you will often see a woman finding a corner of the hospital room or an area under a desk to retreat and regroup during labor.  The desire to retreat weeks before the baby is born, in my opinion, is a way to seize the last few moments that the baby and mom are one, before we share them with the world.  A way to focus all of our minimal energy on the task at hand; bringing this baby soul into the world.  As my cousin wisely put it while we were discussing this phenomenon "Your body isn't even your own space right now - how would you have any extra to give?".

Here's the part that is hard to explain...when we hear messages like "have you had that baby yet?", it feels like we owe an explanation or an update that we may or may not have.  Though I believe this to be far from the questioner's intention, it feels like pressure to perform and there's just no getting around that feeling.  Particularly for first time moms like me, we need to be focused LESS on all of the changes within our bodies and more on embracing the whole of the experience.  I have nearly drove myself crazy by analyzing every change (yesterday's Google search history included "teeth tingling a sign of labor?") and being asked whether there are any changes happening by people outside of my own head only encourages my obsession.  As our wise birth educators told us during our last birth prep class, "There's only room for one head in mama's pelvis, and that's the baby's".  

Never before has this phenomenon of needing updates been more apparent than during the recent birth of Kate and William's privileged little bundle of royalty.  Typically, I have little sympathy for women who get their tea and crumpets prepared for them daily and receive home-baked lavender cookies to ease morning sickness but, dammit, I like Kate.  I like her a lot.  I think she's a fabulous mum and I admire both of them for attempting some sense of normalcy throughout this whole ordeal.  Plus, that girl earned her stripes.  Hyperemesis Gravidarum is no joke.  I found myself a little too agitated by all of the "royal baby watch" news, particularly when the headlines read "She's Overdue!" or "Kate's Mom Lied About the Due Date!" I wanted to write my own story and title it "Kindly Climb the F**K Out of Kate's Asshole and Give a Girl Her Space!".  I cannot imagine that much media attention centered around my cervix.  

A recent study just came out stating that healthy pregnancies can vary in delivery dates by as much as 5 weeks.  That means it could be completely reasonable for a woman to birth her child at 37 weeks or 42 weeks plus a few days.  Our culture certainly does little to support this idea and remains focused on a single day that baby is "expected" and if that doesn't happen, there is something "wrong".  

So for those of you who have asked "the question" to a pregnant woman (myself included, before I was enlightened), it's not your fault!  It's the messages around you.  Two weeks ago, I decided to delete my "pregnancy tracker" app from my iPhone because the countdown function was making me crazy.  I also unsubscribed from pregnancy tracker emails or really anything that had to do with numbers trying to tell me when my baby would come.  The midwives at the MN Birth Center do not do internal exams during the last month so I have no idea if I'm dilated or effaced (and yes, it's ok if you don't know what that is).  They see it as unnecessary information that just gives women false hopes...so wise.

Also, I've decided to call the whole last month of pregnancy "labor".  So if you ask me if I'm in labor, I'm going to say yes.  I have daily contractions, daily "stirrings", daily emotional changes, daily unfamiliar sensations and they are ALL necessary in the process of getting this baby out.  My body is in preparation for a marathon.  We call both training for a marathon and participating in a marathon "running" so I've decided, hell yeah, I'm in labor.  There's nothing "fake" about it.  

So please do not be offended if I seem distant or cold when questioned about when baby is coming.  I am simply in retreat mode and will gladly emerge from my birth cocoon in a few weeks with a huge smile on my face and huge baby in my arms (yep, we've got a big one).  I'll even share the nitty gritty details of birth if you're game.  

And just to end on a positive, non-cynical note, I've decided to share a recent photo taken during my maternity session by the lovely Lisa Venticinque who will also be photographing my birth.  I put this in here, stretch marks and all to show that I can be vulnerable and cynical at the same time!  In fact, I've found that's the best way to approach pregnancy.... :)

Also!  In new baby news, my bestest best friend in the whole world birthed two beautiful babies on July 31st and they all make my heart so happy, welcome to the world Wyatt and Olivia!!  Congratulations Bree and Evan.

By the way, she had a scheduled C-Section and people STILL asked her whether she had those babies yet.....

ok, I'm done complaining now

XOXOXO

Carise 

Some Amusing Musings - and a Reminder to Respect the Pregnant Woman in Your Life

Hard to believe it's been a full four weeks since I last blogged and that mini-Beard is that much closer to making his/her debut.  This post, true to the "stream of consciousness" nature of my cerebral process, has no real rhyme or reason but is just a collection of some of my thoughts lately and things that have happened since I last wrote.

FIRST and most joyous of announcements, my dear friends Rachel, Kyle and their daughter Harper have successfully welcomed their little Maela into the world as of yesterday afternoon at 12:30.  Rachel and I have had quite the journey of being pregnant together.  From the night at the Varsity Theatre in November when I attempted to buy Rachel a vodka tonic only to be met with puppy dog eyes that signified her new status as "knocked up" to the moment of panic four weeks after that when I called her with my own news of a positive pile of pregnancy tests, she has been my road dog through this whole thing.  And because the fertility gods smiled upon our group of friends, our lovely friend Lisa joined the pregnancy pact 10 weeks after me.  We are all 10 weeks apart and celebrating Rachel's little one feels a little like tipping over the first domino - THEY'RE ALL COMING DOWN!  Rachel started the trend off with a brave, unmedicated water birth and was sitting around eating cookies with us hours after her birth.  Congratulations, my love, Maela is a rockstar.

Another great celebration - I just found out today that my friend Tricia who has been tirelessly in the adoption process to bring her little one over from Haiti finally has this little angel in her arms.  This has been a long journey but I am so excited for her and little Saraphina.  Look at these gorgeous ladies!  Can't wait to meet her :)

We have been doing our fair share of celebrations as well these past few weeks.  We had three different showers and have felt like B-list celebrities.  The first (which I don't have any pictures of, for some reason...probably cause everyone was too busy being awesome) was thrown by future auntie Megan and uncle Caleb.  Instead of your typical baby shower, we decided to spice it up by having a silent auction to raise money for our doula costs.  The auction "items" were not items by any means but rather some significant roles in our child's life including the rights to giving our child their first beer, the rights to teaching them how to drive a stick shift, picking out the baby's Twitter handle, picking out our family's first Christmas card outfits and pose, etc...  We had so much fun and sincerely hope our guests did as well.   A huge thank you to Caleb and Megan and their families for putting together such a unique shower for our unique little family.

Another super aunt/uncle duo, Mindy and Charlie, hosted our second shower for Dan's side of the family.  For many many holidays we have surrounded other members of the family to celebrate new baby arrivals (LOTS of babies in this family! :) and I will admit that it was a bit surreal that it is now our turn.  I kept having to remind myself that I was the pregnant one and that our baby would be the next to be passed around at Thanksgiving.  Ours will probably stick out though because he/she will be a brunette in an array of blonde beauties ;).  This shower was also awesome...in general, friends, baby showers are awesome, seriously.  I never thought I'd get so excited about baby gear, but alas, I have crossed over to the "other" side officially.  Here's a particularly good picture that captures our excitement.

Just last week I was treated to a shower hosted by my mom's group of friends...aka the "WGs".  That stands for "wild girls" and no, it's not just a clever name...they really are wild and regularly get kicked out of restaurants or at the very least get dirty looks for raucous behavior :)  These women have been in my life since I was a wee tot myself.  I had so much fun with them.  Baby did too.  Mini-Beard decided to put on quite a show towards the end and kick around for all to feel.  This kid takes after Mama in his/her center stage tendencies.  I did also eat 2 cupcakes so the performance may have been sugar-high induced.  Alas, I felt honored to share the uterine gymnastics with these women and am especially grateful to Sue who is currently fighting breast cancer like a boss, yet still pulled out all the stops to throw me a shower I'll never forget.  Love you ladies!

Sue feeling the triple sau cow my baby was performing....ignore the dude in the back, WTF?

Here's a random thing that I found entertaining...

There's this picture in the bathroom next to my office.  And although this may create a mental picture that makes you uncomfortable, it's worth noting that this picture was the picture I stared at like a deer in the headlights after watching my pregnancy test turn "positive".  Just this week I realized the coincidental nature of this photo...I mean, could it be anymore "birth-y"??

Puppies and babies....seriously.

A funny thing happened on the way to the checkout....

Really weird things happen to you when you are large and pregnant.  So the other day I was at Trader Joe's purchasing tofu (some of you who follow me on Facebook have heard a snapshot of this story).  For fellow tofu enthusiasts, you all understand how tofu is sold most commonly - tightly packed in about 2 cups of water.  Well, I picked a package off of the refrigerated shelf but failed to see that I picked the one with a faulty packing job.  The plastic wrap was cut and as I innocently whisked the tofu into my cart, all of the tofu juice water fell to the ground between my legs.  I chose to wear a skirt that day.  I spent the next 2 minutes explaining to all of the staff and patrons in my vicinity that I was not, in fact, going into labor after a broken water bag but that the faulty tofu was the culprit....awkward.

Here's some specs and a pic for week 31 (I'm still in disbelief that I'm already in the 30's).  In general, I've had the sneaking suspicion that the "honeymoon" phase of pregnancy is long gone.  I'm starting to feel big...like real big.  I've got odd rules about eating at certain times or napping at certain times which makes me feel more like a toddler than a grown adult but I'm ready to ride this out and more ready than ever to face the reality of a baby being at the finish line of all of this!

Editor's note : I just realized from this angle, it looks like under the "Reading" category that is says "just farted Baby Catcher"....in fact, it says "just finished Baby Catcher".  Maybe I'm the only one that sees that but in case I'm not, I thought I'd clear that up.  But I could dedicate an entire post to.....well, never mind.

And now a reflective, philosophical note...

I wanted to end on something else that has been on my mind lately that I think everyone deserves to  hear about.  Something that I did not understand until I was facing mama-hood, myself.  Loving a child, whether they are unborn, newborn, currently awaiting adoption, or full-grown is simultaneously the most natural/effortless thing in the world and also bone-chilling to your very core.  Since I only have experience in the "unborn" child world, I will tell you that not a day minute goes by where I don't wonder about the well-being of my baby and from what I hear, that doesn't go away any time soon.  I have heard so many stories in recent months and even recent hours of mamas who were facing some scary situations with their children and a new part of my heart that I didn't know existed aches for what they are facing or have faced.  I truly did not understand how much of a mind/body/soul workout it is to care for a child.  I think twice now before I look at a mom or dad who appears to have "everything"- healthy kids, smiling face, hair done - because I know there was undoubtedly a time in their life when they faced the daunting monster of The Unknown.  

I could dedicate an entire post to the power The Unknown can have over otherwise rational humans when it comes to loving children (or really just living life in general) and I certainly don't want to come across as Debbie Downer at the end of such a positive blog but I, myself, often need a reminder of the "balls" it takes to love someone.  Women are amazing.  Seriously.  I've watched women in my life endure the scariest of circumstances with grace and courage and know that the blueprint for me as a mama couldn't be more inspiring.  Scary moments pass, worry fades, and what's left is pure, raw, uncontrollable love which can only be likened to how "in control" of your emotions you felt as a horny teenager back in the day (and even that is a weak comparison).  To all the mamas facing The Unknown (you know who you are), know that this time of intensity is temporary and the answers are always in your own thick mama skin no matter what is happening around you.  To all the mamas who have faced and defeated fear, you are my heroes.  And to everyone in between..go hug a mama/papa and tell them Carise told you to :).  This shit is real, man.

Lots and lots of positivity and love to you all.....I cringe to think at how stretched out I will feel the NEXT time I blog :)

Love, Dan, Carise & Mini-Beard (and of course, Dakota and Monti)