Sweetheart session - Brigid and Carl

'Plan C' had been activated by the time my shutter closed over the first photo from my shoot with Brigid and Carl. Plan A (the WEstfield carpark roof top) was shut and plan b (Geelong botanical gardens) was shutting when we got there.

So by the time we actually got to the photo taking, it had turned into a bad comedy of errors. Lucky for me and my organisational skills, Carl and Brigid did not mind.

In fact, I think they found it all a little hilarious.



I got an email from Brigid a while back inquiring about photography for her wedding. We had a laugh about it, because she didn't realise it was the Meaghan Cook she knew. Last she heard I was still up in Shepparton, so she thought she was just contacting a random photographer. She said she was surprised when I wrote back all excited and asking how her mum was.





Tee hee.







Carl and Brigid talk, a lot. And I think that's what I like most about them. You can really see them sitting in their rocking chairs on the verandah when they're 80, still chatting.





Their wedding is only twenty something sleeps away. Perhaps even less than that! I can't wait because I'll be able to see more smiles like these.



* Meaghan

Storm in a tea cup?

The best camera you have is definitely the one you have with you. Hence these photos taken on my ipone.

After yesterday's events we all needed a little spoiling so we headed to The Dunes for milkshakes and smartie biscuits. And so did everyone else who had been on the beach when the storm hit. The kids wolfed down their treats and were ready to burn out of there. No one likes an overcrowded cafe, especially when their power has gone out.

There was a tiny slice of time when it wasn't pelting with fat rain, so Miles and Ryan made a break for the beach.





As you can see Ryan is totally fine. He was a little bit quieter than usual. He did a lot of sitting on the couch with his comfort blanket. I think he was still a little bit dopey, but that was probably due to the excitement of the day before, not his head injury.

Seeing him so well today made me feel a thousand times better. But perhaps a little foolish? Did I do the right thing by calling the ambulance? Perhaps I was overreacting. But my friend Lara rang and said I absolutely did the right thing. She's a doctor, she would know.

The beach is the best place to watch a storm rolling in.



See, Ryan good as gold.

Do you remember when you used to try to walk against the wind, and make it look like you were in a slow motion action movie scene? Miles was doing that.



Abandoned surf rescue boat. All the lifeguards were up in the cafe drinking hot chocolate to thaw out.



Blowing off a bit of steam, yelling into the wind and generally klutzing about was what we all needed. I think the wind blew off our overhanging feelings from the day before because we all went home in considerably better moods.

Thank you all so so very much for your love and thoughts. I was overwhelmed by the phone calls, text messages, comments on my blog, facebook messages and tweets. I'm very lucky to have you all.

* Meaghan

What I'm reading: Miles' 'what to bring' list for kinder. He starts on Wednesday!
What I'm listening to: Noble Beast by Andrew Bird

A ride no one ever wants to take

My eyes are puffy and stinging. I can feel a strain in my shoulders. My hair is tired and limp. Because today was a harrowing day.

Because today I had to call 000 for one of my children.

Miles and Ryan were playing on our front verandah. They had their trains, a pile of large rocks, and were creating a mini world for their cabooses to run through. They were being cranes themselves. But the rocks were heavy, too heavy for little boys.

Ryan screamed a scream I'd never heard before, nor want to hear again. I screamed a scream I'd never heard before either. I knew that it was a good sign that Ryan was crying, that he was responsive. I rushed him inside in my arms.

On the top of Ryan's head, on that sweet spot that smells so good when they're a baby, the place they call the 'soft spot' towards the forehead was a lump the size of his fist. And it was growing by the second.

After the crying slowed and the whimpering started, Ryan grew very groggy. His eyes lids were so heavy. I could see him trying to raise his forehead in the hope of keeping his eyes open. He became listless. He was looking through me.

I reached for the phone and dialled 000.

In the brief time we waited for the ambulance Ryan perked up again. He was sitting up on his own, chatting a bit. When the ambulance arrived he perked up even more. All kids love seeing ambulances, and even in his state, Ryan was no different. After a quick assessment the calm and lovely paramedics assured us that Ryan was okay. His eyes were responding to their little light, his pulse was on target, his temperature showing up fine.

'But to be on the safe side', they said, 'he should take a ride to the hospital.'

So I carried my little boy, cradled him to my chest, into the ambulance. My heart broke with every step that I took.



During the ride there Ryan worsened. He became groggy again. He fell asleep and his breathing slowed. I cried as the paramedic lowered an oxygen mask over his mouth.

If the paramedic was worried he didn't show it. He did however squeeze Ryan's bare foot every 30 seconds to make sure that Ryan was responsive. By the time we reached the hospital, Ryan was awake, and shooting nasty looks at the paramedic. No one likes being woken up when they're asleep, least of all by someone squeezing their foot.



The doctors reiterated what the paramedics had already said: Ryan was going to be okay. I didn't totally believe this for myself, thinking he could drop unconscious from bleeding in the brain. I thought they had missed something, that they were being complacent. Oh how your mind works when you're terrified your baby is going to slip away from you. It wasn't until Ryan was propped up on pillows in the massive hospital bed, drinking orange juice and watching Winnie the Pooh on my iphone did I let myself believe that he was going to okay.

He's home now. The doctors watched him for a few hours. By the time we left Ryan was doing fake hiccups and making the nurses laugh. He's tucked up in his cot sleeping soundly and deeply. I'm checking on him constantly, leaning in close, listening to his breath and making sure his chest rises and falls. I know he's fine, totally fine, but I'm still nervy. So checking on him more than I probably need to makes me feel a little bit better.

Maybe it's being overly dramatic, actually, I know it is, but today I really did feel how tenuous our grip on life is. And how tenuous my grip on my sons is. No matter how much I try to protect them, there will be some things that I cannot protect them from. Like an accident with a heavy rock.

I'm going to bed now. I'll check Ryan again (probably twice) before I go, and kiss Miles gently in his sleep. Tomorrow I will cuddle Ryan, give him panadol for the enormous headache he will undoubtedly have. Amba will move the rocks away from our front verandah. We will probably go to the beach and push memories of today far away. I'm still quite teary, but perhaps that is because of the overwhelming relief that everyone is okay.

* Meaghan

Just cruising

Over the long weekend we piled into the car and took the windy road to Lorne. Sure, Lorne has changed. Development has made it's home there. But I don't mind. I still love the shore line, the pier that's not too far from the pub, and the formidable hills that overlook the town.

Amba, Miles, Ryan and I wandered the beach, ate some very overpriced hamburgers, bounced our lunch up on the trampolines and paddled about on the river.



Okay, so Amba did the paddling, the boys did the fish spotting, and I did the standing on swing bridge drinking hot chocolate. Paddling just ain't my thing. My legs are too short.

* Meaghan