Hi Jack

Hi Jack -

Today you're 4 months old. On Christmas Day.

I have to say, sometimes a distance between here and the day you were born seems more like four years.

I looked at you today, with total slobbery admiration like I always do, and you're changed, even from your 3-month-old 'birthday'.

You have embraced persistence in trying to sit up.

You're quite a badger when it comes to chewing on things (my favorite is your vicious gnawing on my knuckles - your face cracks me up every time).

You drool and blow raspberries non-stop (we should really keep up your fluid intake, considering how often you soak right through your clothes).

One thing hasn't changed, and that is the way your face lights up with goofy smiles when you look at me. Those drooly grins still melt my heart every single time. You fit in with my soul like a giant soft jigsaw puzzle piece.

I sat you up today on the Boppy facing me, and once you caught my eyes, there it went, that million-dollar smile. Even in the midst of your first seasonal crud that has finally conquered you, its last opponent standing.

I apologize that we're having to celebrate this momentous occasion by occasionally (pun!) having to suction off your stuffy, slurpy nose. As much as I hate to hear you complain bitterly about it, I hate you not being able to breathe more.

Your temperament hasn't changed. In fact, your laid-back-edness has only been enhanced. As far as I know, you're the easiest baby in the world to care for. You're on schedule, you eat like a champ, you never cry without a reason, and all you really want is to have someone spend time with you.

I'm reaching that point in parenting where saying "I love you" is starting to sound flat and insufficient, as far as truly representing the way I feel about you. What I really mean to say is "I worship you. I will give up anything for you. I cannot believe you're here with me, mine to hold. You complete me. 'Blessed' does not begin to describe how I feel about having you in my life."

You're my son. A concept that was still foreign a little over four months ago. And now I can't imagine what it was like without you. As if in direct retribution for all the trouble you had to go through, you showed up, world's sweetest child. You cheer me up when I fear for you. When I'm crushed by the weight of the uncertainty your health may hold, you're certain that as long as we're together, it's all OK.

I used to find it cheesy, people saying they learn things from their kids.

Now my four-month-old superhero is here to lift me up. ... Well. Not yet literally.

I love you, Bug. Happy birthday.

Jack's birth - part 2

Jack's non-standard approach to life started early... when we drove up to Methodist (new Women's Pavilion) at 9pm for our induction, the overworked and frazzled receptionist looked up and said: "Have you eaten dinner?" It turned out that all laboring rooms were occupied - maybe there is something to the full-moon stories. So off we went - not much to find in Cordova at 10pm on a Tuesday, we found out, but soon parked at a nearby Rafferty's and whiled away a couple of hours eating chicken alfredo and enjoying an unusually cool evening.

Since the hospital wasn't calling back, we slowly drove back. Finally admitted, my drip (not sure now which one) was started around midnight.

The night passed uneventfully. Around 6 a.m., another drug was added to the drip (or took the place of the first one?). The morning just crawled - I started to have weak contractions, and there was some progress when Dr. B stopped by around 9 a.m., but nothing major was happening.

By 1 p.m., I was uncomfortable enough, but nowhere near active labor. Dr. B stopped by again on her lunch hour, and we talked. My main concern remained about timing of Jack's transfer to Le Bonheur - here we were, already in the afternoon hours. I wanted to know how late she was comfortable letting me go. She suggested waiting until 3 p.m.

Just a short while later, she stopped by again. Having run into Jack's planned neonatologist, they've gone over the timeline and agreed that even if I was in active labor by 3, that would leave no good time to get Jack transported before the end of day shift at both hospitals. So she asked if we were ready to consider initiating a C-section.

While she was out, Allan and I have already discussed this... Yes, I was ready, and on top of the timing concern, I realized at once that I was too tired and unnerved - the natural delivery suddenly loomed unsurmountable. So we gave an OK for C-section.

The next 30-40 minutes were tough... I couldn't believe how quickly things went into motion. Within minutes of Dr. B's departure to get ready, I was on a wheel chair, with new medicines piping in, quickly taken out of the labor room and on my way to the operating room. I remember cold - bright - lonely (Allan had to stop to get scrubbed) and still very uncomfortable to the point of pain from ongoing uneventful contractions.

There were at least a dozen people in the operating room. I 'hugged' a nurse while the spinal went in (I'm not squemish, but that stuff still makes me nervous) and within moments I was limp from my chest down. I remember most of all how fast everything was progressing... I was on my back with the screen in place; Dr. B was there; finally the discomfort subsided and the pain went away; Allan was finally there too. Dr. B and her assistant warned that I won't feel pain but will feel a lot of pulling and tugging - which is exactly what commenced just moments later. Odd sensation... Apparently, Allan watched the whole thing. Later he'll say how professional and efficient the doctors were - within minutes, he saw (and I felt) Jack come out, and I heard him cry.

There was such a huge sense of relief - in small part from just not being in pain anymore, and suddenly this enormous ball of tension broke for me to the point of shivering, and while I was being stitched up I was listening to Jack being attended to... He didn't cry much after his first 'sounds'. Someone from the medical staff quickly recited his stats (8 pounds 3 ounces, 21 and 1/4 inches) and then Allan was standing on my side of the screen again holding Jack wrapped up in a blanket, and I had tears rolling down. I saw him for total of several seconds - long enough to kiss his head - before he was wisked away to NICU.

I remember Dr. B saying (as she was working on closing the incision) how pink Jack was - "If we didn't know something was wrong, we would have never suspected it." So much for my 'blue baby'...

I don't remember how I got to the recovery room - medical elevators were involved, I'm sure. At some point, Allan was allowed to go to NICU to see Jack, and some time later he brought back the camera with his pictures. Jack looked so serious, so composed. NICU was waiting on the Pedi-Flight crew from Le Bonheur - and Jack was already hooked up to monitors. He would spend the next three weeks in the company of these wires and monitors... Of course everyone kept saying how great he was doing. It seemed obvious that he would be doing great. I don't believe in my heart I had allowed for any other option, and these updates were more of a formality to me than anything else.

Jack was born at 2:14 p.m. Around 4 p.m., Josh (our Lutheran pastor) drove up with my Mom and Maya. I was so glad to see Maya. She was a little intimidated at first and wanted to leave - I think - but we were still all in the room when the transport team brought Jack's 'incubator' by my room on their way out.

He was still quiet, my little man. He had those serious, determined eyes, even from behind the plastic of the 'box'. The Pedi-Fligth-ers stayed for about 15-20 minutes, allowing everyone to see him, yet I don't think I got a moment to just observe him for myself, with all the commotion and puffed-up humor in the room that typically accompanies a serious occasion like this...

And then he was gone. Josh, Mom and Maya left at about the same time that Le Bonheur's tank of an ambulance left with Jack, and Allan went with them to see them off. How quiet everything was, for just a few moments... I think that's the first time I started to feel the pain of the incision, and just laid there for a while, overwhelmed and hopeful.

Jack's birth - part 1

It's long overdue... and I'm a little intimidated by the task of remembering all the details, but I know I want to keep the memories as fresh as I can, of Jack's birth story and the start of his amazing little life.

Since I've procrastinated for so long (or, in much better-sounding version, was so busy with life and Jack), this will need to be in parts... So this one is actually a pre-birth portion.

After the initial visit to Le Bonheur, Michelle (a lovely, awesome CVICU nurse) helped us set up an hour with Dr. Knott-Craig (Jack's head surgeon). We went to see him on Wednesday, August 18th.

He was different than I expected. I remembered running into Rosie at day care and her telling me about meeting him earlier. Her company sponsors Le Bonheur and had a field day to meet some of the staff. She said, "He's not the typical kid doctor. Not mushy or sweet - but if I ever needed that kind of help for my child, he would be the only one I'd go to." Dr. K-C is a slender, 50-ish man who reminded me more of a violinist than a surgeon... Higher-pitched, quiet voice with his South African accent. Picture of him and Nelson Mandela on his wall (Mandela called for him when his grandchild needed a heart surgery). After some introductory small talk (I remember Russian musicians being mentioned, and tea being offered), I recapped what we knew. At one point, after a question of his, I confused an ASD and a VSD and told him Jack's ultrasounds showed he didn't have a VSD, which got him concerned, enough to immediately suggest Jack wouldn't have enough time to make it from Methodist to Le Bonheur... I was starting to panic, but luckily had Dr. Joshi's last letter from a month before. Reading it, Dr. K-C chuckled and found my error right away, alleviating our fears. Jack did show a 'patent VSD', an opening that all kids have in their hearts prior to being born, the one that heals up quickly after birth, but in Jack, will be kept open with medication to allow his blood to mix prior to surgery. "Dr. Joshi is a meticulous cardiologist," he said.

When we asked if we needed to run another ultrasound to be absolutely sure of the VSD (more of a rhetoric question to us still), he simply said, "yes". He asked that Dr. Scheider's office do another US and send him the results and images.

We told him induction was scheduled for the evening of the 24th (Dr. B scheduled it earlier that morning - on the 25th, Jack's GA was 39 weeks, and there was consensus he shouldn't be allowed to go past that); that meant Jack was planning to be born on the 25th. 25th being a Wednesday, he said the surgery likely won't take place until the following Monday, since Thursday or Friday would be too early (unless situation required it), and they didn't operate on weekends. ... I still remember all the calendar details, they're fixed in my mind like colorful blocks of time, and check points, and expectations...

Dr. K-C was (and remains to me) a unique, enigmatic individual; very charismatic, in a subtle way, and very sure of his skill and the way things take place in his unit. I needed all of that. At the time when I was not sure what would take place, did not yet know how many complications CHD kids can be exposed to prior to and after surgery, I needed a voice of quiet but almost absolute certainty.

I remember that the last exchange of that meeting was about playing Mozart to babies in CVICU - Dr. K-C was adamant that it had to be Mozart, since his music was shown to help develop babies' brains. He said he plays it to his own baby (recently remarried, I believe he has a daughter under 1). I'm still surprised that Allan didn't rush to a local music store immediately... but there was a side story on this still to come later.

Immediately after leaving his office, I called UT high-risk office and told him Dr. K-C requested another ultrasound. The ladies ran it by the techs, and Michelle told us to come in right away, so we headed back to Baptist (I was there earlier in the morning with Dr. B for the regular prenatal check-up, once a week). Another ultrasound (I should count how many Jack had... at least a dozen), and everything was confirmed and sent over back to Le Bonheur.

Here I stop and recognize the staff at UTMG high-risk pregnancy group. A fairly new office, these guys were awesome to us. Very careful with details. Very friendly and sympathetic to our circumstances and Jack's diagnosis. Very personable... I stay in touch with the ladies in the office still, and though I hope to never again need their professional help, they've been truly lovely to us.

Later that week, I had another visit with Dr. B (Friday) - things have not changed much, I was still pretty closed, with barely any softening. Mom arrived that day in the evening.

Monday (23rd), another Dr. B visit - still no discernible changes. The day after was planned to be the Big Day... we were going in for induction. We were as ready as we were going to be .

2 weeks before Jack

This post originally dated 08/12/10.

***

Earlier this week we had a visit set up at Le Bonheur. It was tough (for several reasons). We definitely got what we wanted - to see the place, to know where to go, to see the units where Jack will be staying, and to meet some of the staff. I was already emotional enough going in that morning, from general fatigue and really high stress levels with everything going on to prep for Jack... by the time we got to NICU, I think my body just had it with couped-up stress and I just broke down, sending the nurses in search for Kleenex.

We saw both ICU's (cardiovascular (CV) and neonatal), the 'bunny' room (pre-op, where kids usually get a toy before going in the surgery), the waiting room for parents, etc. Michelle (the CVICU nurse that took us around) was spectacular - very thorough, detailed, answered all the questions we had, routine or not. A big plus was her taking us to the surgeons' office. Dr. Knott-Craig was not there (out of town) but we met several of the other team members, including Steven (Dr. Goldberg) who, as it turns out, had TGA as well and went through surgery in the 70's. The conversation with him and other surgical staff was my personal highlight - Steven was so firm and optimistic about Jack's prognosis that I felt immediate relief. He spoke of the method used in the surgery, especially on coronary arteries ('buttons'), of excellent prognosis for kids for whom total transposition is the only defect - including normal life expectancy and activity levels, and of the progress made with the Arterial Switch Operation just within the last few years. I was surprised to hear such a definite, strong, and positive opinion (doctors are usually, and understandably, very cautious) but I appreciate that everything is contingent, and that he spoke of what we currently knew about Jack. He also confirmed how blessed we are to know this ahead of time - he mentioned that up to half of kids with this defect go undiagnosed even with a 20-week ultrasound, and then chaos ensues after birth, and valuable time may be lost. I really need to send a huge Thank You note to the ultrasound technician at Dr. Bannister's office - Wanda, I think - who first saw this in Jack, which gave us a chance to prepare for all this.

Jack will likely go to cath lab to have balloon septostomy first (to create an opening between heart atria and allow his blood to mix and have acceptable oxygen saturation levels). From there, he'll stay in CVICU until surgery (some time... soon thereafter depending on his well-being) and will be brought back there afterwards. When considered stable, he may be moved to NICU for further observation. They do have lactation consultants on staff as well as place for pumping so he can have breastmilk as long as he can be tube-fed or, later, start to eat.

In total, it sounds like we should be planning on a couple of weeks of hospital stay - shorter if everything goes ideally smooth and he recovers like a champ. We'll figure out who stays there when as that time comes... I think we're both planning to being there quite a bit, though Michelle warned us about lack of sleep and being too fatigued - if he's stable, she suggested we spend the night after the surgery at home just to get rest, and come back the next morning.

The surgeries take place early in the morning (after 7am) and, according to Steven, on average (without complications) last 5-6 hours.

Day after Le Bonheur's visit I had my last (as it turns out) appointment at UT high-risk group (everything looked stable, and Dr. Scheider was OK with 25-ish as the proposed date), as well as my regular appointment with Dr. B. She says my cervix is a little softer (about a centimeter on external) but Jack still hasn't descended (thank you Lord - I cannot possibly imagine suddently going into labor with no one to watch Maya until Mom comes on the 20th, and with all the work still going on at the house!). I have two more appointments scheduled with her (18th and 23rd), and induction scheduled for 9pm on 8/24 (Tuesday night) with hopes that he's born early in the day on the 25th. I really, really hope he holds out until then - I know I'm pushing time limits everywhere, at work and at the house, but I really need this time to finish everything up and be able to just concentrate on him and him alone.

I've really taken up too much to do in these last few weeks... Pretty worn out physically from, well, pregnancy and the heat (and keeping up with Maya)... and emotionally. And when I sit down to write a list of things I still need (or want), it really looks overwhelming and unachievable. Lord - please let me coast through next week and check off things that will no longer hang over me when done (locks, paint, deck, Maya's furniture... tickets + licenses... windshield... moving furniture in our room to accomodate Jack's temporary quarters... steam-cleaning the carpets...). I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

3 weeks before Jack

This post originally dated 08/06/10.

***

At Dr. B's today I'm 36 weeks 1 day. No signs of labor, she says Jack hasn't descended yet, and my cervix continues the almost total hold-out. Good! No rush for now.

I wasn't expecting an ultrasound but got one (first one at Dr. B's in a while). No signs of excessive fluid, she also mentioned my blood sugar readings so far suggest no concern as far as undiagnosed gestational diabetes possibility. The boy's just on the 'high end of normal' as she says. 7 lbs 1 oz is his estimate today. That's my Jack! Grow, baby, grow. Oh, and the tech says he has hair!!! The cutest thing. She pointed to white fuzz on the screen around his head, said it's his hair. Blood pressure a little higher than normal for me, but that's still 112/72, so no worries.

I asked her when leaving when we'll determine his date to induce if he takes after his sister and decides to just not come out on his own any time soon. It sounds like we'll need to square off on the date by next appointment, which is Wednesday, so they can book the induction, which needs to be at least two weeks in advance. So far sounds like the 25th or thereabouts, as expected.

Today I broke down and had Betty come help clean the house. I'm SO glad I did. Bathroom are clean; floors are mopped and vacuumed. I need to catch up on dust and laundry (and the archeological dig in the fridge) but that's more doable to me now.

Carpet in both nurseries will be replaced Monday; Betty might come out again next week to steam-vac master bedroom and upstairs (the oldest cat has been sick for a few days and threw up all over the place - I don't have the time or energy to track all that nonsense down, so very grateful for Betty's help). Maya starts her new daycare class Monday... My girl is growing!

Tuesday, courtesy of UT Group's nurses (whom I hooked up with employee store passes last weekend), we'll have a tour of Le Bonheur's surgery unit and NICU, and hopefully meet a few nurses as well. This is VERY helpful - I want to know where to go, who'll care for him, etc., so I'm not figuring all of this out during the urgency of Jack's early days.

Wednesday are both of next OB's appointments. That's when we should really nail down the induction date if there are no signs of labor by then otherwise.And Friday is bonus day (YAY!) and there's a small baby shower at work. So all good things.

8 months pregnant (part 2)

This post originally dated 07/28/10.

***

Week 35 (36? I wish they'd make up their minds) appointment today. At Dr. Schneider's office, the US shows one larger than normal amniotic fluid pocket, and Jack's belly circumference is measuring a little large, so Dr. Schneider is concerned there may be undiagnosed gestational diabetes. I did fail a 1-hour glucose test; passed a consequent three hour test; and now I'm armed with a finger-pricker to measure my blood sugar four times a day for the next two weeks. It has to be below 100 for fasting (in A.M.) and below 140 one hour after each meal. So far today, I'm at 72 fasting and 102-108 after meals, so methinks we're just being overly cautious, and Jack is simply growing to be a big boy (he was measuring 6lbs 7oz today, a month before planned delivery).

Refilled Rx vitamins. Anything helps at this point, and makes me feel there are minute things I can still do for Jack to make things better somehow.

Second OB in the afternoon with Dr. B - I get to see her every week now. She says my cervix is reliably closed and with no signs of ... anything labor related. External is dilated but that's normal after the first child. Internal is nice, thick and secure. Better stay that way for another month!

8 months pregnant

This post originally dated 07/26/10.

***

About a month remains until Jack. I, for one, am in a mad rush (a somewhat disorganized effort, admittedly) to complete a list of things we need (with bad attempts of separating wants and needs) for his arrival. Early PS: I found a great glider online @ BabiesRUs for half the cost of others I was looking at! Score for today. And it ships way earlier than custom ones.

Jack's very active. Today he was particularly unhappy with my jeans (low-waist band) and butted against it all day. Which can wear a mother out! The other day I could see my stomach become entirely too lopsided due to either his head, or his butt, sticking way out on the left side. He's not shy about moving around to his heart's content...

Speaking of his heart. From his first diagnosis with TGA at 20 weeks GA, he's been a very, very good boy. He's growing and moving according to all the rules of the OB books... He just has a heart that's wired off-kilter, and we'll fix that. Then I'll ground him when he's 16 for about three months for all the worry I'm still going through in terms of his anticipated surgery, treatment, hospital stays, etc...

I'm pretty sure he's going to be Jack Alexander Bogle.

I think our multiple OB's have finally settled on the best delivery approach under the circumstances - it looks like C-section is NOT mandatory, and I can have a normal delivery, aided somewhat with timing by an induction around week 39 unless there's progress earlier than that. I'm relieved and hopeful C-section won't be necessary so I can leave the delivery hospital earlier to follow him to Le Bonheur (he'll likely be transported right away after delivery).

I'm starting to face the necessity of bonding with my breast pump for the first few days? weeks? of his stay - that's the only way he'll be able to get breast milk until he's considered well enough to be off the tubes. Got to do what I have to do, that's the best thing for him.

Mom's ticket has been booked, she's flying in on the 20th to keep Maya as we finish off Jack's belly journey and enter his first few weeks of life and his immediate treatment period. I try to prepare mentally but I know things will still come unexpectedly, and though it's not often with words and intention, I think my spirit in subconscious is in constant prayer over all outcomes.

Whew, random collection of early thoughts, but I wanted to have a Jack-only outlet in blogosphere so I have space to think out loud without violating, say, Facebook short-and-sweet etiquette.

Jack's diagnosis

This post originally dated 04/17/2010.

***

I'm now 21 weeks pregnant, and we found out last Monday we're having a boy. We had a jolly good time at the ultrasound, counting who won and lost bets on baby gender, and me trying to suppress Allan's intense need to come up with world's most ridiculous boy names. All was fun until the tech, at the very end, mentioned that in her report to Dr. B (my OBGYN) she will need to mention what she termed a 'cardio abnormality'. Somewhat slowed in our tracks, we inquired further. She said on a couple of views she saw the heart outflows transposed, but in the same sentence reassured us that 'it can be corrected surgically'.

Sense of rapid emotional downfall ensued. For once, we had no idea what was the actual problem except to be scared stiff by the mention of anything containing words 'heart' and 'surgery' in the same sentence. The tech took us back to the waiting room to sit out for Dr. B. I hoped to hear that this kind of early concerns are frequent, often false, and we can keep moving.

Dr. B sounded cautious. We would need to have another US done, at a specialist high-risk pregnancy group, to confirm the initial suspicion. To my question about how often these are ruled out, she said that most of the time they're ruled in, and detailed diagnosis is offered. She did try to encourage us with news that this appears to be the optimal time in Memphis to work with highly qualified medical staff like pediatric cardiologists, but I'm not at all sure that encouragement is what we got away with...

The earliest we could get the second test was Thursday. Normal tendency to spend three mentally vacant days would be to Google the bones out of this situation - but we truly didn't know what to search for.

Thursday afternoon, at Baptist, we had another US - after a long and mind-numbing wait for the doctor to see the images (he couldn't join the actual scan) and talk to us in a fluorescent-lit 4x4 nasty-purple-colored room, we heard that yes, Baby Boy has a condition called Transposition of the Great Arteries, or TGA.

Essentially, the condition prohibits the normal blood flow whereas oxygen from the blood is used up by the body, blood returns to heart, goes to the lungs to get more oxygen, returns to heart, and goes out again to the body, enriched. In Baby Boy, there are now two separate, disconnected blood flows - one, oxygen-rich, perpetually runs from lungs to heart (without reaching the body), one, oxygen-poor, perpetually runs from the body to heart and back (without getting needed oxygen); all due to misconnected aorta and pulmonary artery.

Right now, Baby Boy is fine because the oxygen he needs, he gets from me through placenta. Outside of mother's body, the condition is eventually fatal.

The solution as we know it now is to surgically reconstruct heart to an anatomically correct configuration through reconnecting the arteries to the right sides of the heart ('arterial switch'). Surgery cannot take place immediately after birth; to allow baby to recover and gain strength for long surgery, first a procedure is performed to create a hole in the heart to allow some of the blood to mix and get some oxygen to the body. 5 to 10 days post-birth, the surgery takes place; baby has to recover in NICU for a few days, then for some time under regular hospital care.

We will be meeting the pediatric cardiologist this Wednesday first thing in the morning for yet another scan (with him present) and a detailed description of the sub-type of this condition; whether or not any additional defects are discovered; and what our course of action is from here in terms of prenatal care and all things related to birth and his treatment.

I sound logical and aware; but this week has at times rendered us anything but. Through dealing with this, several things have come to pass. One - I have started to call him Baby Jack, though 'officially', we haven't agreed on a name at that point. I needed to have a name for him at least for now, so in prayer, I can call him by name; and Jack sounded so simple and strong, exactly what I feel he needs right now. I shared this with Allan, and he seems to like it.

Also, so many other life's stresses have by default moved to the back, into the recessed shadows - how clearly life's true priorities call out when you suddenly and tragically find yourself dealing with mortality percentages and doctors recounting various risks.

I have also been able to get so much comfort from Maya. As if knowing what's needed from her, she's vibrant, alive, cuddly, lit up from her tiny within - she lights the way and reminds me of what I'm looking forward to, when the worst is behind us.

Importantly, I have found tremendous comfort in faith and prayer. There's another sub-story that I'll have to leave for another time, that have left me speechless and in awe, and with absolute certainty that we will look back at this as a one-time event, later, when we're enjoying our lives with our two beautiful children. I'm not an unreasonable fanatic or a mother in denial; I know the facts too well (Dr. Schneider found it necessary to ask if I had background in medical education, I could keep up with all the nuances of the unraveling story well), but I place my trust where it hasn't failed me before, and being sure of Baby Jack's eventual well-being.

This post is wearing me out since I haven't written much in a while; plus, I can't yet do due diligence to our anguish, wrongly directed anger, confusion, weariness, hope, earnest support from close family and friends, all transfixed within the last few days. I rest well tonight knowing my son's heart is in the same hands that hold mine, and those have held me without fail.

In the beginning

I hope this is my last attempt to 'join' various posts in various places, about my kids. I wanted a place where I could blog mostly about my adventures in parenting - especially since Jack's arrival on August 25, 2010, born with a congenital heart defect called TGA (transposition of the great arteries). He had an ASO (arterial switch operation) performed on August 30, 2010. I've managed to forget so many details about his sisters early days - I didn't want his to escape memory too. So this is for the two of them. The next few posts are captures and reposts from other places, in order to get things in some chronological order.