Finding the Good in Grief

I have always been able to say to people (with a deep sense of relief) that I am lucky and have never had to experience great loss and grief over anyone near and dear to me. I have never lost anyone "essential" to my emotional well being before, and so the small amount of death that I have been around, has in itself always been truly upsetting-- but it has never ripped my heart from my chest and left me hopeless and empty. I do not know what grief feels like. I cannot say to my wife: "I know how you feel darling" Cole has been suffering from a persistent sadness after the loss of her Sito this summer. I am sure me not being able to relate to her might sound cold to people that have grown up in homes where their grandparents, and uncles, and cousins weren't considered distant relatives, and some in particular just outright strangers, but my mother and father had a unique way of keeping the miles between their families while still maintaining civil relationships with nothing more than a couple of greeting cards and a phone call a year. We were not an unhappy feuding bunch, I think we just enjoyed being left alone. We had our own thing going on. So thru the years of growing up, I would occasionally hear little mentions that would go something like: "Oh, so-and-so passed away last week", and it would be followed with some silence, and then maybe my mom or dad would say: "that's really too bad." Which years down the road has left me completely ill prepared to deal with the debilitating effects that grief can cause others while they mourn and recover from loss. It should go without saying, but to be clear, just because I cannot relate to what she is going thru due to my lack of personal experience, it does not mean that I am unsympathetic or void of compassion. It is quite the opposite. I fear that because of my inability to relate I might be over compensating in terms of trying to make her feel better.

Watching Cole wander thru this grieving process alone has been the single most upsetting occurrence in our marriage, I just don't know how to find her hand and bring her back, and maybe I am not supposed to. I do not know the rules for any of this. Days when I think she is coming back, I realize that she is just pretending for all of us, she is always tired at the end of the day from putting on the show of a happy mama and wife, only to find no relief from this exhaustion and she ends up lying awake because she cannot wrestle the images of her Sito out of her mind. She has described her tossing and turning to me and they sound like waking nightmares. She just can't stop watching the images of her in the hospital. So what to do? How to give the space and respect she needs without leaving her to stroll too far away with her head sunk down.

The explanations of life and death that were administered to me as a child were cut and dry and basic, and when accompanied with an unemotional delivery: "people die, that is just something that happens." it got confusing to suddenly grow up and be surrounded by emotionally connected people. So here I am now struggling to find a way to keep some sort of emotional balance. In terms of an "emotional" barometer Cole and I run on separate ends of the universe, she is the hot, to my cold. If you think of it in terms of temperature control; while she is trying to cool off, I am piling on the jackets and blankets. It took me awhile to figure this out. She doesn't need me to make her any warmer. She needs me to cool her off some. So in this instance I need to let our differences work for us. We are smart enough to not fall into the trap where all of my trying to make her feel better creates resentment from it not working. She is allowed to be sad for as long as she needs to be sad-- as long as she is managing to keep going. None of her other feelings have expiration dates. It would be like saying: "Okay you have been happy for like 3 and a half years now, isn't it time you stopped that?" I see her good moods lasting a little longer each day. Our conversations about her Sito are smoother somehow. We are most definitely nearing the end of the beginning and figuring it all out together.

I was sitting there in church this summer at Sito's service, surrounded by this huge gathering of family and friends, all a weeping mess, and I turned and looked to the back of the church and saw my own parents sitting in the second to last row, calm and unafraid, and I couldn't figure out if they had done me a service and made me emotionally strong, or if they had just sheltered my sister and I, and avoided deep feelings because they could not imagine feeling hurt like the rest of the world does. I felt like an alien sitting there. LB sitting still on my lap, sad because his family was sad, with no real understanding of what was going on, he just knew his Mama was crying and that made me cry. Realizing that he hurt because Cole was hurt, opened the flood gates for me. I was suddenly crying because I was connected and part of a family that was not afraid to love one another openly and honestly. I was crying because I realized that I had never actually been a part of that on this scale before. And then it made me mad. And that is where I am at. Mad because in watching Cole lose her Sito and make her way thru this grieving process, it has made me realize just how much my parents deprived me of by never being close to family for no good reason. I know with Cole in my life these mistakes will not be repeated and our children will not have needless disconnects. And of course that is just another reason that I am endlessly lucky to have her in my life.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. In Lebanese Dialect, the word for grandma is Sito (just to clear that up)

Bits of Life, Photography, and Stories of Growing

Hello new gorgeous banner :)

I am committing the crime of blogging about blogging this morning to let the people that read here in on some changes and announcements. Thanks for taking it easy on me.

If you have been reading here long then you might remember that for a good long while the Pacing the Panic Room header changed weekly and would feature the ever growing belly pictures of Cole. When the series wrapped and just the title remained in the header, it gave off a pretty bland vibe in my opinion. I knew that the solution was to convince Anna Bond to make me one, but with her booming business keeping her so busy I wasn't sure if that was ever going to happen. I am a patient man. I knew it would be worth the wait, and I knew that I had planned on really neglecting my blog for awhile anyway :) So we met and went over a few ideas and color schemes and she went to work. I am really happy about it. It achieves the impossible, it's cute without being totally pansy ass. So a HUGE thanks to her for breathing a new fresh bit of air into this place. She does incredible work and stay tuned for her online store to open soon.

The other big change here is the tag line. Again if you have read here for awhile you know that the old line read: "My wife gave me permission to write candidly and vividly about the building of our family." I still have that same permission, but I feel like the story I wanted to tell in that specific way is over. It was a no holds barred telling of the want of a child, the baby making process, and the pregnancy, labor, delivery, and all of the struggles and ups and downs along the way, and finally the first days after Tessa came into the world, and everything in between. It was a story I very much wanted to document, as for the rest of our life being told with the same detail and candor-- I just never felt that same comfort level. I found myself refusing to share the details. I feel like it comes off as misguided bitching. Things like my hatred for Labor Day (although hilarious to me), comes off coarse and awkward in this place. So I figured a change was in order, and with change I expect a fair amount of exits to occur. I am fine with that. The blog world is fickle, and I myself fall in and out of love with blogs all the time. It is part of the fun.

So where is this blog headed? Well with the new tag line: "Bits of Life, Photography, and Stories of Growing" I plan to post more of what you are used to, and hopefully you still enjoy hearing about it, just maybe not as often as I used to some weeks. Tessa Tangerine, The Littlest Buddy, and Cole will remain the heart of this blog, and I want to return to some of the stuff I was doing in the beginning and just writing about life. I have always been reluctant to write in a real specific way about living and learning about The Littlest Buddies diagnosis of Smith Magenis Syndrome. It is absolutely the hardest and most challenging thing we do day to day, I have just always been afraid by getting detailed about it, (although beneficial to other families searching for info and insight and support would be huge) I struggle with telling his stories and turing him into some unwitting poster child for SMS. I have written before that we never see him as this syndrome, we have separated the boy from the symptoms and I don't think I have ever found a way to write about both. You understand? But the reason for all of that explanation is that I do want to do a good amount of awareness raising about it and talk about how brave and assertive Cole is in staying ahead of all of this. Not many people have ever heard of SMS-- and me being me, I want to help in some small way, so of course raising money for research and awareness is super important to me. So that balance will begin here. It is going to be a real trial and error before that balance is discovered so we will see what happens.

Along with all of that I wanted to get back to posting other photography projects that we do, I have been searching for a couple months for a new photo subject for a new maternity series I came up with, and as luck would have it, now have the perfect model for the series. She is just hitting that 11th week now and we are still planning, but have an awesome idea, amazing clothes lined up, and will start right around that same timeframe as I started with Cole. It has been a shock to see the Belly Picture Series I did here recreated around the blogosphere by others. So I suppose it is time for a new series for people to steal. Along with the new series I have been lining up new clients to document birth stories. Capturing as photo essays, the hours of labor and birth, and then the fast minutes of first hellos when eyes are first laid on that new baby. It is such an incredible thing to be around and I have never felt more connected to the photography before. It feels like this is what I am supposed to be doing. Every photo feels important and I just love it. I am also in the process of researching and planning my first ever humanitarian photo trip to do a photo essay on birth conditions in other countries. There are so many places in need of midwife training to get people out of other dangerous practices and unsafe and unsanitary facilities. I have always dreamed of traveling to far off places to capture a cause and bring it to light, but I have never known the cause. After experiencing what Cole and I did here in having a home birth with a professional and experienced midwife, it got me looking into other conditions around the world. I will be reaching out to the community for help, advice, and points in the right direction, as I have never done anything like this. It is something that has become important to me and I hope to find a way to do this next year. Every year I make a goal at my birthday, and I plan on writing about it in more detail in a later post, that is this years goal.

So with all of that. I have no plans of quitting the blog or moving on. All of the weeks of down time were much needed and appreciated. For the readers that stuck around, you're the best :) and I hope you will love what I am planning on bringing here. A nice mix of a photographers blog, with a healthy mix of personal stories and plenty of ups and downs.

And as always...

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

P.S. And in case you haven't already done so don't forget to follow my nonsense on Twitter. I promise I won't twitter about V any more.

Pump it Up

It felt odd to be getting dressed for the first Christmas party of the season this past weekend, it was a party for the salon Cole works for, they throw their big shakedown before the super insanely busy holiday season hits and nobody has the energy or the want to "party". The salon always does this event right-- and everyone looks their best! It was the very first time that Cole had left the house without babies since last years Christmas party (besides our one dinner date this summer). So it goes without saying that this girl was excited and looked smoking hot. The short of it was that the food was amazing, the company fun and light, everyone really vibes well together, the whole thing is one big recipe to stay out till the sun comes up and have a hundred wild stories about the night. Our friends Jason & Gabi were super excited to baby sit for us, and they actually had an unexpected willing participant request to join the babysitter club that wanted to spend her evening with the Tangerine as well. So we knew that Tessa was well taken care of and surrounded by interested eyes all focused on her silliness. So we were set. We had the night. It was ours.

She looked great! I mean Cole looked unbelievable, I wish I would have had time to just skip the party and take pictures of Cole, but I only managed a couple shots outside our backdoor before we left...

* For Central FL readers- The party was in this adorable little town called Gotha, the restaurant is called Yellow Dog Eats and the whole thing is just completely unexpected and a real find. One of those places that you keep scratching your head thinking "I can't believe this place is hiding out here and so fabulous" it's just far enough out of town that it feels like a real "get away from it all" outing, but not far enough to dread going. It's perfect. If I was hired to write a review for this place I would take a picture of the premises and just write the word "perfect" underneath it. Be sure to tell them that Pacing the Panic Room sent you, they will have no idea what you're talking about.

So the party. It had it all, amazing food, music, drinks, people, energy, dancing on furniture, there was no danger of things slowing down at all. We had left the house at 5 and by the time we had all met, drove to the location, got settled, mingled, snacked, dined, secret santa gift exchanged, it was around 9PM. Cole's laughing silly mood sort of melted away at the stroke of 9 and she looked at me and said "Oh my Gosh I'm sleepy?!" haha she looked sleepy. She also looked like she was a little uncomfortable. She would twist her shoulders and pull at her dress. Her boobs had been filling with milk and we had completely failed to think ahead and bring along the breast pump. FAIL. Normally it would not have become an issue so soon, but this hot little dress she had on left little room for engorged milk breasts. A couple of the girls had caught on to what was going on as we were realizing that we needed to say good night and get out of there before her boobs turned into pumpkins, (and that is when it started) some of the girls trying to talk me into taking Cole into the bathroom and set to draining her boobs so they could keep hanging out with her. Are you kidding me? "NO! No way." Like I want that to be the topic at the salon next week, "So Ryan totally went to town on Cole's boobs at the party so she could stay out and dance with us." As funny as Cole thought the idea was, and enjoyed watching me squirm when the idea would be presented, she couldn't dream of wasting the milk, and she was already missing the baby so much at that point that we both just took it as the time to get home. Despite all of the perfect elements in place it just couldn't compete with how much we missed the baby. It actually felt reassuring to have natural instincts drawing us back home.

This little girl was a beacon calling us home...





So take this entry as a reminder that no matter how hot your dress is, make sure your bag is big enough to fit a breast pump into it. There may or may not have been an attempt at making a Macgyver type of contraption that involved the pump from a soap dispenser and a plastic soufflé cup, and some chewing gum. It is unconfirmed. And never being admitted to.

Any experience with this scenario, be sure to leave your funny/awkward/painful stories behind for sharing with the group :)

All the Love in the Universe ~ Us

Reporting the Depression

The other afternoon right smack in the middle of one of Florida's first truly gorgeous fall days, where I had the house open and the air off, and was filling our home with that super crisp fall goodness blowing around. Amongst that breeze I start to hear the sounds of helicopters deep thumping over head. Soon enough my phone is ringing, and I am told to turn on the news. "Oh... look it's Orlando" I say. The report is rolling out that a man is downtown with a gun and shooting at people working in an office. Suddenly I realize: "This is just a few blocks away from our house?!" I get up from the TV, and despite knowing that there is absolutely no reason or possibility of this gunmen coming near our home, I go ahead and close everything up anyway and lock all the doors. The fear was broadcast from this horrific scene, and pushed its way into my personal living space. Live. Minute by minute. It was a reminder that "the fear" is still in me, sitting just under the surface and pops up on command, and gets me agitated with all the newsie buzzwords blurted out as breaking news. Downtown was on lockdown.

All of this was happening just a day after I watched the same sad scenario play out in TX on a larger scale and with a heavier hand as it happened in a completely unlikely place. Ft Hood? A base? How could this happen on a military base? (What is wrong with my thinking when I can easily wrap my head around a guy going bezerk in an office building? When that sort of thing seems common.) But not Ft Hood. How did this mental health professional fail at his own sanity and stability and manage to hurt so many others? I first noticed the Ft Hood story break as I was in the middle of reading the update on the 11th body found in the Cleveland, Ohio case of the 50 year old rapist/murderer. I was stunned reading the body count, and about the careless makeshift graves around the various floors of his house, and was completely hung up on the fact that they described this ex-con's occupation as a scrapper, a metal scavenger who collects cans and other scrap metal for cash. I am confused as to how this felon rapist, who collects cans for a living, owns a 3 story house?! How does this guy have a 3 story house I keep thinking? All of the people losing their homes in America, and this fucking guy has a 3 story house with a basement that he has been raping and murdering women in for the past few years. I wanted to know what kind of a system is set up when this kind of thing is going on? Another case this year of a convicted sex offender making their home into a safe haven to carry out their madness behind closed doors. Another case where if only someone would have taken a closer look maybe this could have been stopped sooner. A life saved. And then-- somehow if this unbelievable story wasn't enough, something actually occurs that seems even crazier than a man with 11 bodies in his house? The shooting spree at Ft Hood TX goes down and just opens the flood gates to questions. What the fuck is going on? Ft Hood and then the very next day the Orlando shootings.

In thinking of these two separate gunmen, it's clear that they represent two huge American issues right now, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and our collapsed economy. These two instances are the end result of people reacting to the world around them in violent and irrational ways. These two men reached a place where they were convinced that this was justifiable somehow. The wrongs they were feeling were so heavy that the thought of taking lives seemed an equal match to what they were suffering. Does anyone care about their suffering at this point? -- And this is the first time in forever that I remember crazed gunmen not committing suicide on the scene of a mass killing spree, Why? Did they have more to say? Did they want to live with their consequences? Will they speak? Isn't letting them make a verbal statement at all in a sense rewarding them with the attention they were seeking? Giving them a world stage to make some sickening misguided point. The Orlando man shouting "They left me to rot!" as he is being hauled away. He clearly wanted to stay alive to be able to say this. He is a man with things to say. He obviously doesn't think he said enough with his gun. He is not sorry. He is not burdened. He sounds like a man who thinks he has just done right.

In both reports this past week of mass shootings there are stories of the gunmen smiling. In Ft Hood, footage of the man smiling in a store just hours before the killing spree, and in Orlando, the man smiles while exiting the office he just shot up. These men appear calm and in good spirits. Why? I can only assume because they have come to a place in their head where they feel completely justified and at peace with what they are doing. They have reached an end where killing actually feels good to them. I am going to also assume in both cases we will come to hear bully stories. All about how these men were bullied, and picked on, and had things denied to them, and taken away, and so somewhere in their disconnect they justify taking away life. The two boys at Columbine reportedly had the same smiling faces. In every case I have ever seen where the weak minded and lost are pushed over an edge, the blame in the end is the ugliest. The profiles of these men are going to be painted and presented and in each case there will be warning signs revealed that no one acted on. There will be times when intervention was possible, but none was taken.

So where is the step in? At what point does someone with power grab control of all of this?

I started thinking about what the news would sound and look like if their was such a thing as 24 hour cable coverage during the Great Depression. All of the stories of people struggling and turing to crime, and suicide, and murdering their families in an act of desperation to save them all from despair. Would the media focus on success stories, the people who were making a good go of it, or would they just feature the bankruptcies, and fortunes lost, and families forced to split up? Would coverage like that have perpetuated the Depression, made it worse? Sucked the hope out of the air with crazy story, after crazy story of people on the edge. What good is any of this reporting doing for us? Do I feel more informed? Or more discouraged and numb?

I am living in a country where these stories are piling up. I live in a country where some guy went nuts and killed his family in a Santa suit with a flame thrower. Where a man stole a child and kept her in a shed in his backyard. Where a mom drives drunk in a mini van packed with kids head on into another car. Where a man murders his entire family and himself because he lost his job. Where a boy is caught on fire over a bike. Where a man rapes and murders 11 women and keeps them in his house. Where a man walks into his old office and starts shooting at workers. Where a man walked onto a military base and opened fire on his fellow soldiers. When did this become the country I am living in? Has it always been this bad, but we just never had the burden of hearing about it 24 hours a day?

I'm waiting for someone to say something. A little good old fashioned leadership. People are losing their fucking minds and nobody is really saying anything about it. It is just being reported, and we are meant to process it all in our own way, keep our heads up and keep working, and just assume everything is going to be alright. It seems like the whole world is exploding and nobody is really saying anything except to stop and point out all the explosions. If you want the world to run on hope, than it is important to give them a little of it to run on.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me


* The hope in writing this here, is that someday LB and Tessa will read this when they are older and won't be able to believe that this how bad things were because they are living in a totally new kind of sunshine and rainbows.

How Is LB?

The Littlest Buddy is doing just fine and thanks for asking :)




Tessa fell in love with the Littlest Buddy late last week, and now literally every single time he stands in front of her and does anything, she erupts into a laughing hysteria that we have never heard. The Littlest Buddy with almost no effort at all has won rights to who can make Tessa laugh the hardest. Prior to this discovery of how hilarious he is, he pretty much pretended she didn't exist. Within just the past 48 hours we have seen the two of them begin to bond. It feels so good.

And just to keep things rolling and updated the charity album that I previewed here, that I am putting together to raise awareness and funds to further the research into Smith Magenis Syndrome is moving along a little faster now. Who knew putting an album together for charity would be so challenging. Some wonderful news to go with the album: the talented and inspiring Anna Bond is involved and donating her time and talents into creating a limited edition print inspired by the album cover art. It will be for sale when the album launches later this fall-- proceeds will also go to the charity in addition to the music sales. Do yourself the favor if you haven't and check her work out. I am still pressing for a release before the new year.

All the Love in the Universe ~ me

A Boob Break

What the Hell is this crap?!"




We waited 4 months before Tessa got a taste of anything other than good old fashioned nutritious breast milk. After this test run, we give her a little of this oaty gruel once a day along with the boob milk. We weren't sure how she would react to the food and she surprised us with no reaction at all. Way to go little girl, new things are no big deal.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me

It's Just a Hand And a Foot

In the process of trying to turn things around during this shitty economy's shit storm and burst into the uber competitive photography world, I have especially been self conscious around my father in law when it comes to updating him on any good news or cool new jobs. It was just a month after Cole and I married that I lost a giant pile of work that we had been planning on getting us thru a good part of last year. I have been trying to get back to that same safe place ever since. So when I was asked to contribute to the Nov issue of Babytalk magazine I was happy to oblige, looked at it as a step in the right direction, and sent in a set of pictures for a piece on attachment parenting. I was excited to show the work off to my father in law. My own parents always react the same to any news of work that I tell them about, if it is a writing piece they ask: "Did you use bad language?" and if it is a photo job they say: "That actually looks... pretty good." Cole's father has that big super WOW reaction when he gets really impressed. So it is always fun to wow him with good news. I had been given an early proof of the article and so one day when he was visiting I casually say from the kitchen: "Oh yeah-- Cole and Tessa are in a magazine next month." to which he seems excited 'Really?!" he says. I ask: "Wanna see what it will look like?" I mean I am ready for some high fives and encouragement. I pull up the tear sheets-- and he takes a long look-- and pauses. (Such an awkward pause) and he says: "This is just a hand and a foot!"

haha.

I am not sure if anyone out there can help me, but I am convinced he is not going to be happy until he sees Cole riding piggyback on Oprah like a couple of best friends on the cover of "O"

But for now, he will have to settle with showing his friends a hand and a foot for awhile. I will keep plugging away. Thanks a million to Babytalk for the piece. And if you haven't picked it up... PICK IT UP! I loved the pictures from the set and was super happy with the one they picked out. I love that hand and foot so much.

all the Love in the Universe ~ Me

Keeping it Candid (a wedding)

I have always been very shy about shooting a wedding for someone ever since I made an attempt a couple years back and screwed up royally. It was a dark time in my budding photography confidence. There is just something about the responsibility involved that terrifies me. To capture all that goes on within a few hours and make sure everyone is looking super awesome and perfect, and well... I just fall apart. Recently I did finally agree to shoot a wedding for a friend, only because they had another photographer in place to shoot all of the formal portraits and poses, and the list of things that the mother of the bride wanted captured. So yeah. No stress on me. And I get to do the one thing I love to do, hang back, sneak around and capture things as they unfold. I am not sure how I feel about taking on a wedding solo. I don't think that I could, my hat goes off to the pros that do it, and do it well, but I did realize that I really love taking on the second shooter role and shooting candid moments. So now I guess I just need to find someone that wants to do all the stressful bulk of the work and partner up. Any takers?

So here are some of my favorite moments from that day.

I have known the groom Matt since he was drinking underage at the bar I worked at and I booked his bands for the good part of 8 years. It was awesome to see all of the familiar faces at the reception, and then I realized that I was the old guy that got everyone drunk and made sure their bands had a place to play, and now they are growing up and still being creative and awesome and holding on to creative pursuits. Made me happy-- and I was really glad that Matt & Mellisa asked me to be a part of their day ( even though it was 96 degrees in October and I soaked thru two shirts) They were both heroes for never bitching a second about the heat and sweat and were both so in love and inspiring. They beat the heat. It was amazing.

My favorite part of the day was watching the two doors of the ready rooms. Matt & Mellisa were right next door to one another getting ready and had no idea what the other was doing or how they looked and it was awesome to see how close they were the entire time.

All the Love in the Universe ~ Me