Weekly Photo Challenge: Hands

Every Friday, the fine folk over at The Daily Post issue a weekly photo challenge. This weeks challenge is Hands. 

Hands.  Hands can be instrumental in a photo – they emphasis, they hide, they reveal. They can be the star of the show, or just a prop to help the main attraction stand out better.

Cooking is all about hands. It’s about touching and using your hands to work some magic. Even given all the cooking I do, I have very few photos of my hands but I hope you will enjoy this selection.

To make Chicken Cacciatore, one must egg wash and flour the chicken pieces.

And try not to burn your hands like I did here.

Preparing the won tons for our favourite lunch - won ton soup.

One of my favourites - Vietnamese Rice Paper Rolls.

I love eating with my hands. Finger foods are an awesome way of grounding ones self. Here I am eating some Laab.

There is something amazing about using finger foods at a communal meal for bring people together. Here, Kat and Joe enjoy the Laab Kat prepared.

Joe and Brittany eat the ultimate finger food – tacos.

I’ve decided to be very game and add one final photo (This edit happened some 12 hours after I originally published this post.) The following photo is of a hand and is perhaps the most precious photo I have. It is the hand of my son, Tyler who died not long after this photo was taken. Tyler would have been 3 this coming July.

My darling Tyler, always missed and never forgotten.

For my regular readers, the photo on my enviro blog The Environmental Rhi-Source is different from the post here!

Related articles

• Weekly Photo Challenge: Hands (dailypost.wordpress.com)
• Flying Foxes (envirorhi.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Photo Challenge: Together (envirorhi.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Photo Challenge: Blue (envirorhi.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Photo Challenge: Unfocused (mizrhi.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Photo Challenge: Unfocused (envirorhi.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Photo Challenge: Sun (envirorhi.wordpress.com)
• Weekly Wildlife Profile: Red Belly Black Snake (envirorhi.wordpress.com)

 

The Joey

I decided to start a blog. I’ve blogged before, but its been a long time. I decided to do this, mostly for myself. I want to remember – to never forget.

After two lost babies – Charlie at 9 weeks and Tyler at 22+5 weeks – we thought numbers had to work in our favour. Its November, 2011, and its our second last cycle of clomid. I have had troubles ovulating since losing Tyler 2.5 years before. Despite recent history, we conceived a baby on Sunday 27th of November  2011. An ultrasound on 15 December dated us at 4+5w – smack on according my dates.

Eight days later, (23 Dec) things did not go as planned at the Obs. No foetal pole was scene, and worse, the sac only measured 4+6w. How could the sac have only grown 1 day over an 8 day period? There were no answers, only questions. We were told that it could be a conflict in dating between the two different type of ultrasound machines, and we would need to wait a week to check the viability of the foetus. The problem for us was that there were so many holidays over the Christmas period.

Finally, 13 days later on the 3rd of Jan 2012, we were able to go back for a follow up scan. Instantly, she said the most magical words ever – “Ahh yes!, There is a heart beat!”. I cried with joy. I was relieved. The numbers were starting to work for us. It had to be ok. It just had to be. Discussions were entered into about the possibilities of a cerclage, progesterone shots and other measures to ensure the longevity of this very special passenger who we had come to nickname “The Joey”.

Our follow up was on the 18th of Jan 2012. I was 9+4w pregnant, and felt good. I had morning sickness, fatigue and all the right sort of symptoms for a healthy pregnancy. I had allowed myself to relax and enjoy the process, certain that this would be our “happy ever after”. How wrong we were. The ultrasound showed no heartbeat, and the Joey measured 9+2w. It had died within the 48h prior to the ultrasound.

The D&C followed two days later. Thirty blood tests were conducted along with the surgery to try and determine why this is happening to us.

There are no words. Perhaps at almost 41, this is just beyond me, and I will not be able to give Joe babies. The sense of loss is ever present. There is no escape. The realisation that yet again there will be no baby is gutting. I just can not describe. I just want to breath.

All we have to remember the Joey is a hand full of ultrasound photos, and a hospital identification bracelet.