The life and times of a little hippie in the Bersagel-Briese clan.
Can opening day for the Colorado ski season really ever be beat? It’s probably my 9th time having the chance to help kick off the season, and it is always such a welcome reintroduction into one of the primary reasons we live in Colorado. Music playing, donuts passed out, media all over, Mickey Mouse skiing with a Sasquatch….you get the point. Oh, and for the sixth consecutive year membership into the 6th Alley Bar mug club was guaranteed before it sold out in 2.5 hours.
The whirlwind surrounding Elia’s arrival continued right through the discharge process at the hospital. When the hospital staff approached us and offered that we might be able to go home on the third day, it seemed like a very welcome surprise – as we were expecting to be there for four days. Ahna and Elia were both checking out great, so there was really no medical reason to stay at the hospital….but then I made a doctor appointment for Elia for Friday (had to get in before the weekend), and when they asked how old she was, the speed of what was happening set in a little. I answered that she was going to be three days old when we would take her to the doctor’s office, and I started to wonder if we were making the right decision in going home so quickly. But once you get it in your head that you would be able to leave the hospital, there really isn’t any going back.
Problem #1? Two car seats in the back made it so nobody can sit next to her on the way home. Solution (other than remove a car seat)? Trust. And it works surprisingly well. Elia did great on the car ride (and has on subsequent rides) and we made it home just before dinner on day three. While Ezra met us at the house to welcome Elia home, following dinner he went back down to my parent’s house to give us the chance to settle in for a night before we took on the task of him joining us. The night went predictably well, or predictably bad depending on your perspective, and we have been enjoying the space at home since.
Somehow recreation leagues have gotten away with completely redefining the seasons. According to them, Ezra participated in a ‘fall’ soccer league, which was in fact from the beginning of August through the beginning of October. By any calendar calculations, that would put it at seven weeks of summer, and two weeks of fall. This can be confusing to people, especially when you start talking about signing up for a season based league that has the majority of it in another season than advertised. They really should consider stopping the laziness of stealing another season’s moniker, and create one that would be more appropriate to what time frame is actually covered. Perhaps instead of ‘fall’ they can call it the ‘back to school and get sick’ league; and instead of ‘spring’ they can call it the ‘oh well, skiing is over, now it’s time to play soccer again’ league. I don’t know, just a few suggestions.
Anyhow…Ezra did in fact participate in his first soccer league this ‘fall’ and it lived up to all of the hype that a four year old league can. For him and most of his teammates, it was their first time playing an organized sport, so there was a huge learning curve to even understand the concepts of a game, a team, goals, etc. The few kids that had previously played – or have older siblings that play – had a significant advantage over those that were going at it for the first time. And if your not a parent, and don’t understand how different a few months of physical development can be at four years old…just head over to a soccer game and watch for a while.
He did all of the typical things that would be expected of someone his age and something so new – needless to say, he isn’t showing all signs of becoming the next Messi just yet. But he tried (most of the time) and he did improve greatly over the first practice/game of the season; and most importantly he had fun and stated that he would like to do it again. The team called themselves the Broncos, and it was a great group of kids and parents. Relaxed, yet supportive and encouraging; we never saw anything that was negatively newsworthy throughout any of the games.
As Ezra got to experience a first, so did we…..figuring out how to work dinner around a scheduled weekly event. Quick home from work, quick change into gear, quick gather everything…crap, we forgot to wash his socks again, quick drive over to the fields, quick get his shoes on…crap, we forgot to bring some water, quick grab the jacket that we left in the car, quick eat a snack, quick drive home…crap, dinner planned will take an hour to cook, and finally quick figure something else out instead. Ah, it all begins.
No, this isn’t going to be a fifth grade birds-and-the-bees lesson, so stop covering your eyes. This is going to be the story of the transition from the ending of one nine month journey to the beginning of another one.
The date of her arrival had been picked for a while. After what happened with both Ezra and Liam, there really wasn’t a choice on this matter. Oct 16 was going to be the day. First week of fall break in the schools, done with parent conferences, after everyone’s birthdays, etc, etc….and that was a week prior to her cycle-based due date of Oct 22. Everything was planned around that date including trips and work schedules…and also including our preparedness level.
As mentioned before, we didn’t go too far with the pre-work in the house. But we also didn’t get anything done in the car, or didn’t get a ‘go bag’ ready, or didn’t plan too much in the event things went at a different schedule than the calendar suggested. And well, here we are writing this.
Thankfully I had just got off of work yesterday morning after a 48 hour shift that included middle of the night runs each night. And by thankfully, I mean that I was thankful to have been at home for this to start (not the part of being up each night). Ahna had been doing those kick counts twice a day, and Elia had not met the kick count that morning. Much worry set in, Ezra found a place with the neighbors until my Dad could get him, and off we went to the hospital.
She moved some on the drive in, so some of the panic was tempered, but there was still lots of worry and concern in the air. We got to the hospital, got checked in, and got put on the monitor – where we could see that there was nothing wrong with the baby at all. Movement was ok, and pulse was good. Emotions settled some. However, there was still a lot to be determined, including the course of action from that point forward. Ahna was kept on the monitor for at three more hours, during which time she actually started to go into labor….the very early stages, but labor none-the-less. This changed the ball game. This set in motion the course of action that resulted in a tremendous whirl wind of activity, of doctors, of decision, and of concern.
45 minutes later we were in the OR, hearts beating through our chests, and emotions at an all time high – only put into control by the fact that we were somewhat stunned to be in there to begin with. The procedure went really well, thanks to the hands of three of the best doctors in the entire world…two of which were there the night that Liam was born, including our OB…and a cast of very talented nurses, anesthesiologists, etc.
At 2:12pm, MST, Elia Marie entered our world. She looked great, perked right up, and met all of her newborn marks. At that exact same second, a wave of emotion hit, and 22 tons of weight left our shoulders. She and I made our way into the Post-Op room and waited there for Ahna to finish up with the surgery.
This experience has been so amazingly different from either Ezra or Liam, and it is a little breathtaking at times. I think that both of us have found out the exact meaning of anxiety, yet have also found out the true meaning of love and support.
To Dr. Cassel and her team, to the staff at Parker Hospital, to family, to friends, and to the unbelievable people at Children’s: thank you, thank you, thank you. We would not be celebrating with sane minds and full hearts without what you have done and continue to do for us.
And now, the chance to celebrate Elia.
Well, it’s been a long and unexpected day so this is going to stay short.
We are very excited to announce that joining us today was little Miss Elia! Ahna and she are doing well, and all of us are a bunch tired – both physically and emotionally. Here is the first photo – kinda blurry…like the day. Ezra stopped by this evening and has reaffirmed his position as the best big brother ever.
Elia weighs in at 7 lbs and 1 ounce, and measured at 20 inches long.
Much more to come…
We haven’t posted much over the past few months about the little girl that is set to join us shortly, and I got a little inspired while at the doctor’s office – for one of the million late-pregnancy visits – to record her heartbeat.
Let me digress for a sentence or three: things are physically progressing just fine. Emotions are another story all together, but that’s not what this post is for. This pregnancy has involved a ton of doctor visits, and a slew of testing that we haven’t experienced prior….and so far, everything is checking out great. Her size (growing big, like both Ezra and Liam), her physical attributes, her breathing, and her development are all right on track – and in some cases, pushing the higher end of the percentages.
The doctors are having us (read: Ahna) do a few more tests than would have normally been required – I think to put them at ease as much as it is supposed to put us at ease. That said, one of the tests is a twice-a-day kick count where the baby has to move in excess of 10 times within a two hour block. While on some level it’s a reassuring affirmative, on other levels it’s just another thing to get focused on and to worry about. Ahna is also having to go to the doctor’s office twice per week for non-stress-tests of the baby’s movement and heartbeat (thus the recording), which follow similar stresses as the kick counts. Granted, this is all for just a short time remaining, but the gray hairs are popping up a lot more these days.
Ahna has been a trooper – still working, still being a single parent when I am at work. Beyond the normal physical uncomfortabilities that surface this late in any pregnancy, some additional less-than-desirable experiences have returned, including nausea. These final days of the pregnancy are flying by, and the days are getting longer and the nights are getting shorter.
The picture from the ultrasound is supposedly of her mouthing her arm. The audio of the heartbeat was remixed using Ezra’s directorial guidance in post-production.
I mean, really…..what can I possibly say that would explain how amazing this event is and how proud I am to have been apart of it’s transformation from what it was when we first climbed eight years ago. The 2012 rendition was another resounding success, as it once again brought together 343 firefighters from seven states and almost 50 different departments to climb in memory of the 343 FDNY firefighters that were killed on 9/11.
The climb organization has become a near science, as Dave, Sean, Scott and I have found a good way to divide up the work and accomplish something pretty special. We filled all of our allotted spots for the 2012 event in 61 minutes – way back in July. There are two remarkably emotional occasions that surface each year, and the weight of those moments never seems to diminish: the first is when we lay out the photos of the 343 FDNY members that were killed. To see all of those photos on a table is a stark reminder of what happened. It takes all of the pictures in the newspapers, and all of the stories that you find on television; and puts a face on the loss. Each climber takes one of the photos and carries it with them up the 110 flights of stairs – and trust me when I tell you, there are times that the photo is the one carrying the climber. The second moment is when we are giving our little speeches before we start the climb, and we have the opportunity to look out over the firefighters and see what 343 firefighters look like. It’s a breathtaking and goosebump filled experience as you think about all of the experience, the humor, the families, the support, and the love that was lost that day.
Since I help out with the event, several of the other event volunteers and I climb early – before everyone else gets there. This year, six of us made our own journey up the stairs, one step at a time, 110 stories up. It was a pleasure to again make that trip with Adam, Doug, and Thomas, and it was a treat to be able to do it with Dave and Jill for the first time. We also were able to showcase a very special flag, sent to us from a good friend that flew it on a mission in Afghanistan last Sept 11 – on the 10th anniversary of the attacks. The day was topped off in a most humbling fashion: spending it with the family of one of the FDNY members that was killed. Through the climb, I have made some amazing connections and friendships, and for those, I am forever grateful.
This year, I climbed for Ray Downey and I celebrated Kevin Dowdell. To those two and to the 341 others that died on 9/11, as well as to those that have been added to that list due to 9/11 related illness: I tell you that we remember. I tell you that we carry your memory with us and inside us. I tell you that we will keep climbing, and I tell you that we won’t ever forget.
PS – thanks to Adam and Tim for the pictures. Also, a very special shout out to the building at 1801 California and the tenants of that building for their unending commitment to making a great climb happen each year on 9/11!
I’m not the first firefighter in my family. Factually, I’m at least the fourth generation to be apart of the greatest profession (I can’t answer about before that with any certainty either way), and the tradition as we know it started around the turn of the century (the one before this one) in Hazleton, Pennsylvania. Since then, it’s been my Grandfather’s brother, my Dad, and I that have been firefighters all along the Eastern seaboard and now into Colorado. As firefighting is so tradition rich, it’s awesome to be able to trace some personal history and tradition in firefighting almost 110 years.
My current fire department is in the steps of specifying/buying/ordering three new fire trucks, and I have had great pleasure to sit on that committee for the past several years through this process. Earlier this summer, the department awarded the contract for those three trucks to a manufacturer – KME – based in north-central Pennsylvania, about 25 minutes from Hazleton. As a member of the committee, I was part of the team that went to visit the factory for three days of pre-construction meetings in June, and we actually stayed in a hotel in Hazleton. The city itself has a long history in my family, as it’s where my Grandparents come from…so it was really cool to be able to spend even a little time there. On a free evening (really our only one), the whole group took a short drive into the city and we found the station where Karl Briese served from 1903-1936. The city fire department is still primarily volunteer, with one paid Engineer/Firefighter staffing the station 24 hours per day. As such, we weren’t able to go inside as the engine had a detail to attend honoring a retired member that had recently passed away.
Regardless of our inability to walk inside the station, it was supremely cool to be able to visit the place that it all began. How somehow I sit 110 years later, also in a fire truck, serving the citizens of the community, and walking in the shoes of a great family tradition.
The photo of Karl below is the only one that we have were he is photographed as a firefighter. It is part of a larger group picture of all of the members of Diamond Hose Number 2.
It grew. Some parts did surprisingly well, and some parts didn’t. We had some sort of bug/pest thing get into the green pepper plant, so all of them came out with a brown spot and therefore inedible. The spaghetti squash never came in, the zucchini and summer squash did predictably great, tomatoes did alright (but they are going to move to their own space next year), and the jalapenos did awesome too. We had some Japanese cucumbers in the pre-hail planting, but they didn’t return with everything else after the storm. We didn’t really have to replant but one or two vegetables after they storm, as the rest of them surprised us with their ability to rebound. Ezra had a great time helping the stuff grow, and he was a great participator in their harvest every time – which was one of the primary objectives from the onset.
Two questions for you gardeners out there: do we need to remove the soil before planting next year? what other veggies would be a good idea for that space (probably going with zucchini, summer squash, and jalapenos again)?
The Life of a Little Hippie 