Ah, the disappearing act -

We’ve been over the ditch:

Celebrating Joanna’s wedding:

Photobucket

In all her glowing glory. . .

and, okay – I was pretty happy too. . .

and she was just delectable. . .

After the wedding, staying in the rural bits of Melbourne, visiting my fantastic photographer friend on her farm-let

with the lovely daddy administering to Ride Duty. . .

Until such time as the pony became available. . .

my attempts to caption this one just ended in gibberish. . . snurfle. . . glug. . .

and a few other things happened while we were away, better illustrated when there is not said snurfling child asleep on my arm precluding hooking up the digital camera . . .

arriving home in time to enjoy a warm evening of New Zealand barbeque – and promptly following that a phone call from a labouring woman.

While my preceptor and I sat quietly catching up on *two whole weeks apart* in the corner – she calmly laboured over the birth ball in between joining our conversation. So calmly, in fact, that if she hadn’t announced it was time to take her pants off – we might have missed altogether her 1 min of pushing. As it was, I cupped her sweet baby boy’s head with one hand while I pulled a glove onto the other with my teeth.
And just in time – crouched under her to let his warm, slick skin slip over my forearms and down towards his mother’s.

A short while later – one of my favourite occurences ever happened (yet again) – a proud Grandmother declaring that she had been wrong – homebirth was a great idea after all.

. . . and we drove home through the quiet fields, under the whole swollen moon – basking in the glow of delicious right-ness. . .

. . . and a touch of jet lag. . .

home again, home again. . . jiggety . . jig. . .