For millions of years, humans have been able to have their children, unrepentant, unabashed, and unrelenting. They have had them in caves, rain forests, artic conditions, and places where most people would never fathom to have a baby. In the grand scheme of things, for all intents and purposes, they are about as defenseless as anything imaginable. Today, March 10th, we embark on our journey as parents. We have been blessed with the birth of our beautiful daughter, Salome Olivia Vargas. She was born at 7:09am and weighed 7 pounds 1oz. As the bliss of holding this tiny little human far outweighs mostly anything prior to today, let’s share our story of how we came to this place.
The due date for our baby girl was on March 8th, 2012. This was a crisp and beautiful day and it had so much to offer. The full moon was just caressing the morning sky. The battle between the sun and the pull of the moon usually means fierce tides in and around the bay. Well, the tides within my wife and her amniotic sac were not immune to the power of the full moon.
We are first time parents who went through relentless practices of preparing ourselves. We attended birth classes, forums, and hung out with more parents who had kids then I would care to admit. On Thursday, we were vigorously tested with what we thought was a major step. My wife wakes up at 3am to empty her bladder. We all know this is normalcy in pregnancy but today it was going to be a little different. My wife goes back to bed and notices that it was a little bit damp. You have no choice but to question if this was the gusher of amniotic fluid everyone spoke about. Or, was this the small trickle of leakage that we learned in our birthing class? Well, we had no clue so we made our phone calls and decided to go to the hospital in a state of “better safe then sorry”.
Once we were at the hospital, it was actually somewhere between dramatic and full-blown madness. It seems the full moon was creating chaos throughout the bay and every woman from miles around decided to come to the same hospital at the same time. It seems that because we were there for what could have been a ruptured bag, we got some priority and bypassed the thousands of women in the waiting room. Ok, it was about 3 but it was still chaotic.
We didn’t really know what to expect as the fetal heart monitor was installed and the baby had an extremely strong heartbeat. That was a huge sigh of relief for both of us and the mountains of anxiety fell off our shoulders. Regardless of what happens, we know our baby is strong in the comfy place she is renting from her mother.
Since we had no idea what was leaking out of my wife, we had to get tested and see if it was the amniotic fluid that was slowly leaking out. We didn’t hem, we didn’t haw at the test. One swab of a q-tip and it was dipped in a special solution and it was taken to the lab. In the meantime, the doctor on call made his way to our bedside. He was a typical doctor in every sense of the word. The wire rimmed glasses surrounding his itty bitty blue eyes made it seem comical that he was there with no back ground music to accompany his medical jargon that was spilling from his mouth.
Our nurse, who was actually pretty badass, came back and asked if we have spoken to the doctor. Her face already spoke that something was not right. The small part in between her eyebrows was crunched and furrowed and that is always a sign that something was wrong. She gave us the news that we did not want to hear. As we were not experts, the test confirmed that it was fluid leaking out of her. Being safe is definitely the better option and as first time parents we made a good decision.
Ok, this puts a damper and a proverbial wrench into our birth plan. You see, we had everything planned to go as natural as possible with as little medical intervention needed. Now here we are, overwhelmed, faced with a slight risk of infection to our baby and to my wife. Going back to the Doctor, he already made it clear that you should be in labor if your water has broken or you sprung a leak. With that, we were faced with getting induced.
The thought of getting pitocin was about as glamorous as getting kicked in the face. The doctor told us that he wanted us in the hospital at 7am. This is where I can’t properly define us procrastinating and flat out not really caring what they wanted us to do. How can I describe this? Well, we got to the hospital 6 hours late. Ideally, if you are late for something, it’s usually a few minutes. We were rebels without causes and thumbed our noses at the thought of getting induced at 7am.
As we strolled into the hospital 6 hours later, we were fortunate enough to get a direct admit to a labor room. A few awesome nurses met us and another doctor who also could have had her own theme song upon entering a room. As we were both settling in to get comfy for what we thought was the long haul. We heard tons of medical jargon leap out of the doctors mouth. The majority of it hit the floor and rolled under bed where the ghost of soiled linens have lived and died. It was until she said, “ we are going with Pitocin” where the practical, proverbial, and essential brakes were put on. We didn’t hem or haw but we weren’t completely adamant and jovial about her rush decision.
Somewhere along the line the doctor mentioned a cervical ripening medication, Misoprostol, that could perhaps push labor along the way. It wasn’t exactly our hopes of having a completely natural birth but it wasn’t the dreaded pitocin that would speed things along too quickly. So, it wasn’t like we were in that much of a rush so let’s try this. It was a simple medication that you took orally, 25 micrograms with a fetal heart monitoring for 4 hours. Then you are off for two hours and you get to eat.
We went with that option and it was alot of bonding time with our doula, our nurses, and our sanity. Not much happened within those 6 hours so we opted to go for our second dose at 9:30pm. We figured that it wouldn’t do much and we would get some rest. Then in the morning we would bite the bullet and take the pitocin. Right about this time I headed to Whole foods and came back with an array of food for my wife. I figured a nice light soup to warm up her tummy and the spinach and lentil soup was the ticket.
So it was a simple plan that nature, my wife’s body, and the meds completely decided to go in every direction except the one we wanted. At about 1am my wife was having a severe discomfort that had us require the return of our doula. We figured it would be an uneventful night so we let her take her leave and she could return in the morning. Well, I am trying to nap on the side cot in hopes of having enough energy for the day. At about 3am. It was time to put away the cot and get up and be the courageous and awesome husband that I think I am.
This is where the fun starts. My wife starts having contractions, surges, bouts of unimaginable pain every 60 seconds. They would last about 45 to 60 seconds and it was apparent to me that something has happened. Now we went through early term labor, active labor, I’m in hell labor in the span of less then 4 hours. Several things stuck out to me from our birth class but for the life of me I cant figure out what vowel my wife was moaning through her contraction.
With the help of our doula, my wife was able to get into the tub. She doused warm water over her body. As much as she loves her hot water, this was a small piece of solace in this process. She combated a rise and fall in temperature throughout labor. It wasn’t easy to go through something within a few hours that should have lasted at least 24. It wasn’t necessarily a good time as she was entering dreaded “labor land” and there weren’t any amusement rides here nor happy campylike tunes. No munchkins, chocolate waterfalls, oompa loomps, or bright Technicolor subtitles. This was game time and it was time to rock.
At about 5AM. The best nurse in the history of medicine checks my wife and she tells her that she is 6 centimeters dilated. This was a shock to me as I wanted to jump up and down and do the Tiger Woods fist pump. The contractions decided to revolt and create anarchy in my wife’s body. That moment where we thought we wanted to invite the contractions, it would’ve have been more suited to hack them off with machetes.
At 6am, my wife wanted her break. She wanted to be done with this process and wanted the baby out. We never discussed a safe word but I knew I didn’t want to martyr my wife. The word “epidural” was mentioned and I think it was time. I said let’s check you first and see and we take it from there.
When the nurse came back and checked the wife, she was fully dilated at 10 centimeters. It was a 1-hour marathon from 6 to 10cm and I couldn’t believe this moment was here. Now, we couldn’t give her the epidural she wanted and it was actually time to push.
A few times there were some practice pushes but in all honesty, the wife was pushing to get the baby out as fast as possible. The nurse at one point decides again to check in on the progress and we literally could see the babies head about 1 inch in the birth canal. A piece of me wished I could just reach in and grab the baby and just snatch it out. Maybe some disco lights with some action music to create the affect of true heroism while I save the day from the big bad labor pains plaguing my wife.
The clock hits 6:50 and my wife is pushing not only the baby but she is pushing out lunches she had 4 years ago. That was the intensity and commitment she had in ending this process. Even the nurse slightly chuckled with the natural process of things my wife went through. You can’t help but laugh when the nurse says” ooh, look, a lentil”
Now, with each push the baby was crowning with alot more vigor then the last time. The doctors were in place and it was the moment where 9 months of waiting all culminated with one final act of pushing.
The baby’s head was in the place where people call it “the ring of fire”. It other words, it was half way out. The doctor was in the catcher’s position while I tried to play both sides. I had my camera ready and took as many pictures possible. On the final push, the baby was out and through my tears; there was no way I could take any more pictures.
The blessing to our induction curse was that our doctor (who my wife has fallen in love with) was able to make it at the 11th hour. Right at the point where our baby was about to come out, she came in and was handed off the duties. Despite my wife being in Labor land, she yearned to have our doctor be the one to deliver the baby. This was a small victory in our long 12 hours of battle.
The baby was here at 7:09am. It was a crisp beautiful day and one that we have both never experienced before. We brought into this life a tiny human being with ten fingers and ten toes, a slightly cone shaped head, a pinkish little body that is as close to perfection as possible.
I was in a place where I was able to cut the cord after it stopped beating and it was clamped off. The sick and demented side of me actually put on gloves and was able to handle the placenta after it came out. I always wanted to hold one and get a sense of bonding with my wife after I held this piece of her in my hands.
So, for millions of years to come, humans will still have their babies. They’ll still be in places where too many can’t fathom having their children. Yet, this is our story, our special moment where we have created a life to hopefully make this world a better place to live. A time where having a child naturally is a fast dying art. We strived to make this life-affirming event beautiful and miraculous; in our life, we feel we have succeeded in doing that, getting through this miracle
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Baby girl is already bugging out
Last week my wife called me while I was in my shop working. I pick up the phone knowing she just left her latest OB appointment. I didn't think of anything else but to hear the usual positive feedback she got from her doctor. I envisioned her just saying "the doctor said everything was fine and we are on track".
The voice that came from the other end was trembling and suffered the cracks of someone crying. "papi, the baby is breeched" she said. I had this sinking feeling and the only thing that came out of my mouth was "what, what you mean". I emotionally went to such a horrible place. I didn't know why but it was this horrible feeling of dred. I was nervous, sad, emotional and just had to take a deep breathe.
I understand being breech isn't a big deal to many people but when you hear your baby isn't where it's supposed to be, well, it's just a small taste of what is to come. I'm a completely new father. I don't have all the answers, methods, ideology, or simple concepts of how to father. I am merely relying on instinct and a sense of what is right.
We are headed to a few more appointments and now it's going to be just hoping to everything holy that this little girl will turn around and point the head down. Today I joked with my wife that perhaps I should do the "peoples elbow" and drop it on the top of her tummy to convince that baby of where she gotta go.
As usual, stay tuned for more of my musings.
Fish Vargas
The voice that came from the other end was trembling and suffered the cracks of someone crying. "papi, the baby is breeched" she said. I had this sinking feeling and the only thing that came out of my mouth was "what, what you mean". I emotionally went to such a horrible place. I didn't know why but it was this horrible feeling of dred. I was nervous, sad, emotional and just had to take a deep breathe.
I understand being breech isn't a big deal to many people but when you hear your baby isn't where it's supposed to be, well, it's just a small taste of what is to come. I'm a completely new father. I don't have all the answers, methods, ideology, or simple concepts of how to father. I am merely relying on instinct and a sense of what is right.
We are headed to a few more appointments and now it's going to be just hoping to everything holy that this little girl will turn around and point the head down. Today I joked with my wife that perhaps I should do the "peoples elbow" and drop it on the top of her tummy to convince that baby of where she gotta go.
As usual, stay tuned for more of my musings.
Fish Vargas
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
my first official freak out moment
My wife decided that taking "chil birth" class would be a good idea. As any good husband knows, if the wife wants to do it, if it's within reason, don't argue or say no.
These classes are extremely informative. They typically get you ready for everything involving childbirth. The class itself has 7 couples and they all range in colors, ethnic make-up, age etc etc. The first class was a little weird as I haven't been the social butterfly here the way I was in NY.
After a few weeks, I look forward to going to class and hearing what will prepare my wife and I when this baby girl decides to make her entrance into the world. At the start, it wasn't so scary. Today, it was a whole different story.
We had a small exercise of writing our greatest fear in this pregnancy process. We then had to place all our fears into a can and it was symbolically shut. This was done to give us a sense that our fears and anxieties are shut away and now we could move forward. Well, it's not that easy.
to be cont
These classes are extremely informative. They typically get you ready for everything involving childbirth. The class itself has 7 couples and they all range in colors, ethnic make-up, age etc etc. The first class was a little weird as I haven't been the social butterfly here the way I was in NY.
After a few weeks, I look forward to going to class and hearing what will prepare my wife and I when this baby girl decides to make her entrance into the world. At the start, it wasn't so scary. Today, it was a whole different story.
We had a small exercise of writing our greatest fear in this pregnancy process. We then had to place all our fears into a can and it was symbolically shut. This was done to give us a sense that our fears and anxieties are shut away and now we could move forward. Well, it's not that easy.
to be cont
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
NYC Baby Shower festivities.
So instead of running to the computer to get a post into my blog, I settle back and assess the feelings. It’s my new way of making sure I have all the right words down. It’s not easy trying to be a writer but try being one that is really out of practice.
The past couple of days have been special to my wife and I. We were fortunate enough to fly to NYC to be with my mother and father for Thanksgiving. We also took the opportunity to get some partying done. So we organized a party for our upcoming baby. We had a final total of 82 people come bless my wife and I. Her perfectly round baby bump was the center of attention. It was a total and completely loving experience.
The highlight of the trip was finally getting my parents connected to the internet via a skype phone. It’s probably the easiest thing for them to operate. It will give us a great opportunity to chat with them when the baby is here and they will see the growth of the child in real time instead of still photos. This was a phenomenal idea from the wiff.
Thanksgiving was nice as my dad made a turkey that was basically good enough to eat 16 pounds of it on your own. I don’t know if it was jet lag or just a massive overdoes of tryptophan, my wife and I knocked out cold on the couch.
Historically, my Thanksgiving holidays have always been very small. My family and I never really went out to peruse the kitchens of other family members. We just stayed at home and ate and watched TV. The only time we made a big deal out of the holidays was when my uncle was alive. He was killed in March of 1990 and after that, the divide of the family started. “Divide” is a very ugly word to describe what happened but that is the only one that could adequately describe how we all went our own separate way.
Coming back, I had a conversation with my only surviving Blood cousin Edwin. I told him that for the past few years that I felt I’ve taken the responsibility of trying to keep what little family I have left together. It’s been tiring and I feel that he needs to share that responsibility also. Some people might think that I have a huge family. Most of that comes from distant cousins from my mother’s side. We are a dying breed on my father’s side. Here is a little known and extremely scary fact. If my wife and I do not have a boy, the name Vargas has a possibility of dying with me. I never gave this too much thought but it scared the hell out of me a few years back. What difference will my name make in this world. Am I going to just live an existence that makes absolutely no contribution to bettering this world? I hope everyday that my brief amount of time on this rock will make an impact for the better for my kids.
The baby shower was completely amazing. My wife and I had a great time. Some of the most special people in our lives made the special trek to show us some love. The funny thing is that after a while I had to force myself not to think about the ones that didn’t make it. I had to appreciate the family who laughed, hugged, and genuinely loved us on that day. The Bruckner Bar and Grill was great in their treatment of us. They gave us a great deal and the food was on point. That seems to be the spot that I will always visit upon my return to NYC. It has a special place in my heart as we organized some of our finest poetry readings there.
When my wife and I got home, we went through all our cards and it was such an outpouring of love. I was taken aback how people took the time out to go out of their way to make sure this little baby girl will have everything she needs upon her entrance to the world. I have about 27 thank you cards to write and each one will have its special feel.
My wife and I both battled colds in the past week. So much fun.
The past couple of days have been special to my wife and I. We were fortunate enough to fly to NYC to be with my mother and father for Thanksgiving. We also took the opportunity to get some partying done. So we organized a party for our upcoming baby. We had a final total of 82 people come bless my wife and I. Her perfectly round baby bump was the center of attention. It was a total and completely loving experience.
The highlight of the trip was finally getting my parents connected to the internet via a skype phone. It’s probably the easiest thing for them to operate. It will give us a great opportunity to chat with them when the baby is here and they will see the growth of the child in real time instead of still photos. This was a phenomenal idea from the wiff.
Thanksgiving was nice as my dad made a turkey that was basically good enough to eat 16 pounds of it on your own. I don’t know if it was jet lag or just a massive overdoes of tryptophan, my wife and I knocked out cold on the couch.
Historically, my Thanksgiving holidays have always been very small. My family and I never really went out to peruse the kitchens of other family members. We just stayed at home and ate and watched TV. The only time we made a big deal out of the holidays was when my uncle was alive. He was killed in March of 1990 and after that, the divide of the family started. “Divide” is a very ugly word to describe what happened but that is the only one that could adequately describe how we all went our own separate way.
Coming back, I had a conversation with my only surviving Blood cousin Edwin. I told him that for the past few years that I felt I’ve taken the responsibility of trying to keep what little family I have left together. It’s been tiring and I feel that he needs to share that responsibility also. Some people might think that I have a huge family. Most of that comes from distant cousins from my mother’s side. We are a dying breed on my father’s side. Here is a little known and extremely scary fact. If my wife and I do not have a boy, the name Vargas has a possibility of dying with me. I never gave this too much thought but it scared the hell out of me a few years back. What difference will my name make in this world. Am I going to just live an existence that makes absolutely no contribution to bettering this world? I hope everyday that my brief amount of time on this rock will make an impact for the better for my kids.
The baby shower was completely amazing. My wife and I had a great time. Some of the most special people in our lives made the special trek to show us some love. The funny thing is that after a while I had to force myself not to think about the ones that didn’t make it. I had to appreciate the family who laughed, hugged, and genuinely loved us on that day. The Bruckner Bar and Grill was great in their treatment of us. They gave us a great deal and the food was on point. That seems to be the spot that I will always visit upon my return to NYC. It has a special place in my heart as we organized some of our finest poetry readings there.
When my wife and I got home, we went through all our cards and it was such an outpouring of love. I was taken aback how people took the time out to go out of their way to make sure this little baby girl will have everything she needs upon her entrance to the world. I have about 27 thank you cards to write and each one will have its special feel.
My wife and I both battled colds in the past week. So much fun.
Monday, November 21, 2011
MY baby girl is coming
so, here I am, 26 weeks prior to my baby girl making her appearance into the world. It has been a roller coaster of emotions. I don't even know where to start but let's see what comes out on this paper.
I have had this blog for a little while now. I stopped writing after moving to California. I don't really know where the stoppage came from but I just know that I've missed it terribly. As soon as I find out my wife was preggo, I changed the title of my blog. I will try to get as much writing out and give reflection of fatherhood experienced from a first time dad.
Right now, it seems our little baby is trying to kick her way out of the stomach instead of waiting patiently for the full term. A few weeks ago, my wife was cuddled up next to me. I felt the baby kick through her stomach and karate drop kick me in the back. All I could do was think of how this little girl is already acting up. It was cute but it was also scary as hell.
As I tend to write more, I really want to make sure I keep this journal going for my baby girl could see what's going on. We are keeping a had copy but I also want to keep this one going. As I want to be 100% honest and genuine, I also don't want to give the wrong impression. It seems that fatherhood has tempered me somewhat. My thoughts are filtered as well as my language and I don't have a problem with that.
As I want to do a good job, I don't want to start off wrong at the jump. Granted, language alone is going to be a challenge but I now I could convey a thought without profanity.
It has been an interesting ride so far. Now, I fear things I never would have thought of. I fear my baby girl will feel judged and looked down upon if she isn't what society says she is supposed to be. I have read articles about little girls dieting by age 10, wanting boob jobs by age 17, getting plastic surgery procedures by the handful before they are 21.
I grew up in an environment that wasn't necessarily healthy but none of us really cared what anyone said about us. I never cared if any of the girls thought I was cute, handsome, hot, or hunky. Honestly, we were just too busy trying to survive. Living on the west coast, there are too many people who are completely infatuated with looks. I've heard people describe others like "Oh, such and such is a nice guy, he's such a hunk". So, if he wasn't a hunk, he wouldn't be a nice guy? Judgements are passed like a wet rag and it's sad these days. How can I teach my little baby girl that she has to be a strong intelligent young woman before anything else. Granted, she won't be eating oreo cookies into the night because I have to teach her everything I didn't learn about healthy eating.
I am in that long hard process of trying to de-program myself from passing judgement. I grew up without an appeal towards robust women. Even until this day, I see a woman who is overweight and I have a reaction that is not positive. I am not proud of it but I acknowledge that I had had this burned into my brain. I am currently in the process of repair and I know it will take time.
So, here I am. I will be a first time father at the age of 41. When my baby girl is 20, I will be 61 years old. Yes, I am going back into the gym because I need to be in shape and alive.
I leave with this thought. I would want the world to look at my baby girl and talk about books, favorite toys, favorite time of day. I would prefer this instead of the default "you look so cute, so beautiful, so pretty". This way, when those empty and sad compliments stop coming, my baby girl will know that life is more then her looks.
Fish Vargas
I have had this blog for a little while now. I stopped writing after moving to California. I don't really know where the stoppage came from but I just know that I've missed it terribly. As soon as I find out my wife was preggo, I changed the title of my blog. I will try to get as much writing out and give reflection of fatherhood experienced from a first time dad.
Right now, it seems our little baby is trying to kick her way out of the stomach instead of waiting patiently for the full term. A few weeks ago, my wife was cuddled up next to me. I felt the baby kick through her stomach and karate drop kick me in the back. All I could do was think of how this little girl is already acting up. It was cute but it was also scary as hell.
As I tend to write more, I really want to make sure I keep this journal going for my baby girl could see what's going on. We are keeping a had copy but I also want to keep this one going. As I want to be 100% honest and genuine, I also don't want to give the wrong impression. It seems that fatherhood has tempered me somewhat. My thoughts are filtered as well as my language and I don't have a problem with that.
As I want to do a good job, I don't want to start off wrong at the jump. Granted, language alone is going to be a challenge but I now I could convey a thought without profanity.
It has been an interesting ride so far. Now, I fear things I never would have thought of. I fear my baby girl will feel judged and looked down upon if she isn't what society says she is supposed to be. I have read articles about little girls dieting by age 10, wanting boob jobs by age 17, getting plastic surgery procedures by the handful before they are 21.
I grew up in an environment that wasn't necessarily healthy but none of us really cared what anyone said about us. I never cared if any of the girls thought I was cute, handsome, hot, or hunky. Honestly, we were just too busy trying to survive. Living on the west coast, there are too many people who are completely infatuated with looks. I've heard people describe others like "Oh, such and such is a nice guy, he's such a hunk". So, if he wasn't a hunk, he wouldn't be a nice guy? Judgements are passed like a wet rag and it's sad these days. How can I teach my little baby girl that she has to be a strong intelligent young woman before anything else. Granted, she won't be eating oreo cookies into the night because I have to teach her everything I didn't learn about healthy eating.
I am in that long hard process of trying to de-program myself from passing judgement. I grew up without an appeal towards robust women. Even until this day, I see a woman who is overweight and I have a reaction that is not positive. I am not proud of it but I acknowledge that I had had this burned into my brain. I am currently in the process of repair and I know it will take time.
So, here I am. I will be a first time father at the age of 41. When my baby girl is 20, I will be 61 years old. Yes, I am going back into the gym because I need to be in shape and alive.
I leave with this thought. I would want the world to look at my baby girl and talk about books, favorite toys, favorite time of day. I would prefer this instead of the default "you look so cute, so beautiful, so pretty". This way, when those empty and sad compliments stop coming, my baby girl will know that life is more then her looks.
Fish Vargas
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
I think it's time to start writing in my blog again
I have to exercise my fingers (that occasionally connect to my brain) because it feels a little difficult to bang anything out.
SO, hopefully in the next few weeks, it will be an all assault on everything going on. Of course, it will have to be PG-13.
See you soon
Fish Vargas
Friday, January 1, 2010
I wonder............
.....if this blog will get me in trouble. Well, I just made my resolution and that is to blog as much as possible. I was really dedicated for a few years and I stopped after it got me in trouble a few times over. It's time to go in.
It's Jan 1, 2010. That is a weird date to me. The year sounds a little freaky too. This is going to be the craziest year for us also. It seems that by this year, we will become residents of California. I can't say I'm excited about it because I am leaving NYC. Those bitter feelings don't seem to let me get excited. Well, I have to do what I have to do. If I want to have a family and live a good life, it will require us to make this move.
So here I am, right next to the countdown clock. As it's winding down, you all have no idea how close this move is. Seriously, you don't have a clue.
I will keep the blog updated and current
Fish (the transplant) Vargas
It's Jan 1, 2010. That is a weird date to me. The year sounds a little freaky too. This is going to be the craziest year for us also. It seems that by this year, we will become residents of California. I can't say I'm excited about it because I am leaving NYC. Those bitter feelings don't seem to let me get excited. Well, I have to do what I have to do. If I want to have a family and live a good life, it will require us to make this move.
So here I am, right next to the countdown clock. As it's winding down, you all have no idea how close this move is. Seriously, you don't have a clue.
I will keep the blog updated and current
Fish (the transplant) Vargas
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