Notes From Home Plate

Isaiah Factora Borchers

Published on by Lisa


8:45am
“This is the brain.”

“Here’s the spine.”

“Right here is a hand.”

“Your baby’s face profile…”

Then the ultrasound techie asked, “Do you want to know the baby’s sex?”

YES.

“You are having a boy! Definitely, for sure. Right here, [points] that’s a boy part.”

For the next 10 minutes or so, we get all happy and mushy and watched different angles of our son.

After some quiet time the nurse exclaims, “This baby’s got HUGE feet!”

I couldn’t believe what she said, “What?!”

She points again, “See this? This foot is the same length AS THE BABY’S THIGH!”

I start giggling. Uncontrollably.

The nurse asks, “So who’s responsible for this baby’s big feet?”

I reply over Nick’s laughter, “Definitely the father.”

Nick’s astronaut white shoes, size 13, seem to be glowing in the dark.

The nurse smiles, “If this kid had an Indian name it would be ‘the baby with huge feet.'”

Nick and I are just laughing our butts off as she shows us a close up of Isaiah’s foot.

We finish up and I’m wiping my tears of joy and giggling over this kid’s feet.

The nurse places a towel over my belly and says, “We’re done here. You’ve got a boy on the way. With huge feet.” She glances down at my feet in flip flops and makes one last comment, “Yeah, for sure. This baby definitely did not inherit your feet.”

Conversation This Morning

Published on by Lisa

Nick: Can you believe that TOMORROW we’ll know if we’re having a boy or girl?

Me: Truly, it’s unreal.

Nick: (staring at the ceiling in thought) Oh! I thought of something else that we might want to buy.

Me: In addition to the gazillion things – like a crib, stroller, rocker, bottles, diapers…

Nick: (turns to me with big, convincing eyes) No, I’m serious. I think we should probably buy one of those baby holder things.

Me: The one where the kid is strapped on to the parent, like in the front?

Nick: Yeah! Do you think we should get one of those?

Me: (quietly thinking) I don’t know. Do you want the front one or the back one?

Nick: (surprised) There’s more than one?

Me: Yes…I’ve seen the front one, where the kid is just dangling there and there’s the one on the back, kinda like a backpack. I’ve seen more men with the backpack version. It kinda looks like hiking gear, except for equipment, there’s a baby back there. I think men use it when running errands, like to the post office or something so their hands are free.

Nick: (perpetually skeptical) I don’t know about that back one. Do you think it’s safe?

Me: Probably about as safe as having your baby dangling in front of you without actually holding on it.

Nick: I just like the idea of always SEEING the baby. Like, what if I’m carrying the baby on my back and all of a sudden I think, ‘mhm, it’s kinda light back there,’ and then I check and the baby is gone? Or I reach behind me for something and then find someone trying to take the baby off my back?!

Me: (decidedly)The front carrier it is.

Summer Storm

Published on by Lisa



The breath of God swept this tree to fall east – toward the street – and not southeast, which would have been straight into our beloved home.

Yesterday, around 3-4pm, an unusually fierce storm swept through some parts of Cleveland. Working on the west side of Cleveland, I saw claps of lightning and bowling ball sounds of thunder, but I never thought it was categorized under “severe.”

Driving home, I turn into our neighborhood and anxiously drive through the debris. Streets are undriveable with power lines and poles demolished by our signature Shaker Heights trees. Tall and shady, the tree lined streets look like a tornado swept through and not far, the local highschool is scattered with flattened cars and smashed houses.

I turn onto my own street and see a pool of people standing out front. I get even more anxious that I don’t see Nick and neighbors I recognize are the ones I know, so I quickly surmise that something happened in our immediate area.

My mouth drops open as I see one of the largest trees on our block laying flat down on the lawn next to our house (ours is the brown brick, tudor style one). A HUGE tree, one that I’ve admired for the past year, was uprooted and mercifully hit only the earth, taking with it nothing but another strip of a nearby, smaller tree.

The neighbors were out, trying to saw the branches that were blocking the street. I turn into the driveway and quickly hurry into the house to see if Nick is home, alright, and if our house has any damage.

Miracle, miracle, miracle. This tree, that stood about 15 feet from our soon to be nursery decided to die, but without causing any direct damage to any humans or houses.

So, we spent the early evening marveling at the storm’s remnants, talking with our neighbors, helping more ravished properties clean up, and thanking our lucky stars it did not plummet into our house or into anyone causing harm.

August, I Love You

Published on by Lisa

This week has been normal.

I love writing that sentence.

Sometimes the routine of life can help one relax, breathe easy, and appreciate the itty bitty grains of awesomeness in August. Like how AMAZING the weather has been, holding steady at 70ish degrees this week with pure sunshine.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what kind of weather announcer I would be. Channel 5 news would definitely have higher ratings because all I would do is squeal and yell YES YES YES when there’s a beautiful day on the horizon. I don’t know much about jetstream or northeast winds pushing whatever into whereever region. But I DO know how to be excited for cool August weather.

I’d also announce the weather wearing sunglasses.

This week has had a little rumbling of busy-ness throughout it. One of Nick’s coworkers is moving and so we, along with our pals, are planning a goodbye party for her this evening. Tomorrow, Kelly and Tim Norris will be hiking it up to Cleveland for a wedding so we’ll get to chill with them for a few hours before their wedding. Then tomorrow evening we have a BBQ to attend. Sunday, both Nick and I are helping chaperone/drive/be with a bunch of highschool cats who are spending the day at Cedar Point. Now, other than the ferris wheel, there isn’t much for me to ride at the greatest amusement park on earth. But, that fact does no stop me from going where I will have access to funnel cakes and elephant ears.

So, we’re back in the groove of our lives and as Nick often says, “I’m just excited, you know, for life!”

Yank the Umbilical Cord When You Need Something

Published on by Lisa

This weekend, Nick and I travled to Cincinnati for a wedding that I was shooting. Thanks to Julie Ryan, who referred me to a friend and co-worker, I was hired to work with a terrific couple for their August 1 wedding.

Now, I’ve shot weddings before and am co-shooting another one with a friend in a couple weeks, but this was one in which I had total responsibility from beginning to end with no back-up photographer, just moi. And Nick, who was my assistant.

The day was awesome but physically exhausting. I knew it was going to be a lot. I’m 4 months pregnant and not the same BOUNCY self as I normally am when unpregnant. But, I have lots of energy to give, still, and this wedding took all of it and then some. Basically from 10am – 10pm, I was shooting, directing, posing people, adjusting, crouching, and sweating like the world was my personal sauna. As I write this, Monday morning, my shoulders are still very sore and I can barely move my arms in a full circle with a small grimace. If you’d like a good shoulder/bicep/tricep workout, I’d suggest holding a DSL camera with an attached full lens and SB600 Nikon flash up to your face and running for 12 hours. See how awesome you feel. Let me know.

Overall, everything was great and only when I was going through one stressful moment did I feel any real sense of panic when my camera wasn’t cooperating with me. Usually an even-tempered digital gadget, my camera decided to have a temper tantrum for four minutes. My blood pressure sky rocketed to the blazing sun until I felt the little life inside me churning in the amniotic fluid, yanking on the umbilical cord for dear life and screaming, “MOM! BREATHE! I NEED OXYGEN!” And so, like the loving mother I am, I took a breath.

Nick as assistant and father to be could not have been more perfect. He chauffered me around from house, to church, to Eden Park, to reception with a car blasting air conditioning, cold water for me to drink waiting, and food so I didn’t pass out. He held groomsmen jackets, carried bridesmaid bouquets when the pictures didn’t call for flowers, and joked with the bridal party to relax everyone for the poses.

Nick carried my equipment, propped the church doors when no one in the recieving line did so the line flowed faster, spoke with the priests about the mass and regulations around flash photography, and took away my tripod when I was done with it.

More than one person asked, “Who is that cute guy with you? He’s not a guest is he? I don’t recognize him. IS HE YOUR HUSBAND?! HE’S SO CUTE.”

When someone compliments the good-looks of your spouse, it’s hard not to smile inside and shrug as if to say, “well, of course…”

But I just nod and say something along the lines of, “Yes, we’re married and yes, he is handsome.”

As with many challenges, I couldn’t have done it without Nick’s unyielding support, sound advice, and unwavering belief in my artistic perspective. To create art, to see something beyond what most people see, you have to believe in your own capacity to create something amazing. To do that, you have to relax. Nick does an unparalleled job of relaxing me, helping me remember why I decided to pursue this passion of mine, and believe in me.

Gracias, mi amor.

We left the reception at 10pm and headed to wish my friend Mary Kay a Happy 30th Birthday. We could only stay a brief 30 minutes or so because we were off to Cleveland from there. Still kind of wired from the day, we rode in silence back up north and I soon drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep in the passenger seat. Dreamy scenes floated across my brain of backdrops, family portraits, tuxes, dresses, and flowers. At 3am, we arrived home and I could barely make it into the house. My body hated me. The baby, I knew, hated me.

Nick, juiced up from caffeine, opened the windows and rolled the bed down for me where I collapsed. My muscles decided to stiffen up and not work and I laid in bed wondering how I could be so fatigued and unable to return sleep.

My poor abused spouse descended from his iced coffee high and fell into a deep sleep while I realized at 5am that I was not able to sleep. My stomach growled. The baby growled.

I tiptoed to the kitchen and stared at the dismal display of food options in our regridgerador. We’d been out of town for four weekends which means no serious grocery shopping had occurred in over month.

A toasted English muffin with cheese was my 5am breakfast snack. Once in my belly, I drifted off to sleep.

Sunday was a much needed day of being in Cleveland, seeing our house in the daylight hours of a weekend, and breathing in the rare Sunday morning air from our own bedroom, our own church, our own backyard. We quietly worked on landscaping, finding escape in the pruning of our trees, uprooting overgrown weeds, and catching up with our neighbors. It felt wonderful to be home.

Instead of restaurant food, fast food, or eating at someone else’s dinner table, we made simple spaghetti for dinner and loved sinking into our own couches and watching rented movies while we sifted through mail and aired out the house.

I hate cliches. I hate cliches as much as I hate ignorance, snobby attitudes, and drivers who turn without using their turn signal, but I must use a cliche this one time and one time only:

truly

there’s no place like home.

Our Summer in Pictures III

Published on by Lisa

Nick and Kelly. Brother and sister. How lovely…

This was taken after the ceremony for Abby Cordonnier’s wedding (family photo below) and before the reception. Kelly was a bridesmaid.

It’s hard to believe from this loving photo that these two used to fight over the phone with Kelly slamming the door and turning up the radio in her room in defiance of her big brother.

Even though I wasn’t supposed to take photos when the official photographer was, I still snuck in and took a candid of the Cordonnier family.

Striking, huh?

Our Summer in Pictures II

Published on by Lisa


This was a picture from the deck of our condo in Folly Beach. Surprisingly, Nick is spending much of his time reading and relaxing. I didn’t take too many photos of the lovely Charleston. I think the weather was just too darn hot and my big camera just too darn heavy to make the effort.

This vacation was awesome!

Our Summer in Pictures I

Published on by Lisa

This is Joey, our nephew who is a little over a year old.

Joey is the youngest of our nephews and niece and when they come to visit, Nick and I love to take them to the park up the street.

If this picture doesn’t brighten your day, I don’t know what will.

Letter #9

Published on by Lisa

Dear Veronica,

In about two weeks, I’ll know for sure (well, almost sure) what gender you are and that seems to be a monumental event to everyone but me.

In some ways, I’ve already known you as Veronica, but you could be Isaiah, and I’m wondering how that will change if I find you are a boy, or girl, or whatever.

I wish I could be more eloquent about this issue, Love, but the truth of the matter is, I don’t give a damn what GENDER you are. I just want you here safe, secure, alive, well, and breathing in my ear.

Nearly everyone but you is irritating me these days and I attribute that to my hormones. The hormones that is making my body grow hair like a gorilla, the hormones that are making me want to make love every night at least once, the hormones that make me feel depressed then ecstatic. In other words, the hormones that are making me crazy.

Having a baby seems like the most natural thing in the world. Billions of women have done this well and have survived and yet I feel like I’m the only one feeling like this. Supported, yet, deep down, I feel abandoned. I look at your father and feel this chemical dependency on him that scares me. I never knew I’d feel this way. Other days I feel like I am falling in love with him all over again as I see how his unfolding fatherhood is shaping him and his thoughts. He and I agree on so many things, it scares me. I thought we’d be in disagreement.

My parents are in town this weekend and they keep staring at my stomach, where you are, and smiling, excited for this new life to come roaring out of me. Sometimes, even though you are inside me, I feel very alone. More eyes are fixated on my stomach than on my eyes. So many people ask, “how are you feeling,” rather than, “how are you?” and I feel the difference in my sense of isolation. It’s as if people don’t see me, and only see you.

You matter. I matter. I just don’t know how it all meshes together when it feels like the only reason I matter is because you are in me, growing in matter.

I hope you can see through my jumbled thoughts, Love, and know that you are the most important thing in my life. I love you more than you or I can possibly fathom and not even my confusion and attitude can overshadow the earthquake of love I have ready to share with you. I’m human, you’ll see, full of imperfections and selfishness and stupid thoughts. It’s good that you know that upfront so you’ll understand when I screw up but will always come back and remind you that I love you.

Some days when I walk around by myself, I wish I could hear your voice. I wish we could already have a conversation. Your soul is wise, I can tell, and I know I will learn much from you.

I hope I don’t let you down as a mother. These days, my insecurities seem to be getting the best of me.

But you ARE the best of me and worth more than any fear I can harbor in my bones.

Let’s keep each other strong these next few months.

Love,
Mom

Charleston, Abby, and the Yellow Bug

Published on by Lisa

The truth of the matter is that life is complex. Life is complicated and busy as a pesky summer bee.

I feel that is all I can say after I look at the unimpressive amount of blogging done in the past few weeks. And sometimes I get so behind in this particular blog that I end up just drifting by important events – like the Charleston trip – without really showing the true brilliant colors of the experience.

So, let’s just start with what’s most recent: this past weekend.

Nick headed to Russia with his family immediately after Charleston for Abby Cordonnier’s wedding, his cousin, and I flew home to Cleveland to work two days before joining him in Russia. The two days were uneventful and full of sleepy catch-up days in the real world. Charleston is kinda magical. I felt like the architecture of the south has some sort of time-travel element built into its columns and bricks. I felt like I was in Gone with the Wind, Sweet Home Alabama, or Forest Gump at times. The houses were just beautiful. Our time there was filled with a lot of beach, exploration, Tripoly, and an euchre tourney.

But, we eventually returned to the real world and headed to Abby’s wedding. It was beautiful, as anticipated.

One thing I noticed is that I am getting much better at being on time for a wedding than I used to be. Now that the Borchers house is getting more and more snug with an expanding family, I have learned when to aggressively hog the shower first in the morning and iron my clothes before everyone else notices they need these amenities. With me, Nick, ( + Baby), Kelly, Tim, Jay, Keith, and his girlfriend Anna, it’s a tight run ship on Voisard street. Luckily, after 4 years of marriage and about 6-7 years of Russia trips, I’ve learned a few tricks to being on time.

Abby and Marcus’ wedding stood out for a few reaons, but like I’ve written before, there’s always one thing that will catch my attention. For this wedding, it was the speeches. Quite possibly, this wedding had the best speeches I’ve ever heard overall. And there were plenty – both of Abby’s parents spoke, Marcus’ father, the matron of honor, best man, and even Abby and Marcus themselves spoke. That’s a lot of talking and very impressive for each and every one to hold the attention of the audience with their wit, insight, and words. Bravo!

When I got home, Nick had to scoot off to work for a meeting and I decided to weed and prune some landscaping outside. I guess this was sorely needed because FOUR different neighbors stopped by to tell me what a great job I was doing and how wonderful it was that I was spending so much time taking care of our landscaping. Soon, the 30 minutes I had planned for myself became a 2.5 hour vendetta and I stopped only when Nick came home from his meeting and the sun had all but disappeared.

As Nick happily reviewed my hard work and the piles of branches, twigs, and greenery set out for pick-up, he threw his arm around my shoulder, “Great work, babe!”

I smiled an exhausted smile and mumbled how I wanted to go to bed.

Then he said, “Hey, what’s lighting up inside your shirt?”

I looked down to see a curious yellow light blinking, sandwiched between my green tank top and skin. All my gardening tools crashed on the driveway as I yelped and screamed and nearly tore my shirt in my frantic attempts to get whatever was in my shirt off my skin. Images of spiders, centipedes, and event tarantulas flooded my brain.

As a lightning bug innocently flew away from my shirt, Nick whooped a hearty laughter and picked up my gardening tools scattered on the ground. Too tired to tell him to stop laughing at me, I headed inside and collapsed on the couch.

Next weekend: Stacy Condon’s wedding and golf tourney for the Borchers clan.