We are going to adopt.

Lately I have been thinking about how I would document out adoption story once it started, and then I realized that it started many, many years ago. That realization caused my pulse to quicken with fear. Yes, fear. Reason being that I love to document everything. Realizing that this journey has already begun, without my acknowledgment, means that moments have gone undocumented, and are essentially gone. That is what scares me. Moments past are my treasures. I sporadically kept diaries as a child, and as an adult, I have journaled, pages upon pages, life full, moment full, me full. I know that sounds remarkably self-centered, as if someone would actually care enough someday to know me so well. But if I found journals of my great-grandmother, I would treasure them. Not everyone would, but I would. Am I doing this just in case someone treasures my life happenings someday? No. Am I doing it only to share with you? No. All of my journals are the "old fashioned" way...you know, pen and paper? The kind when you seriously don't worry about your handwriting, or grammar, or spelling, but where you just pour out, unabashed and unashamed. And then you hide them in places like old coat pockets or in the bottom of a cedar chest in between the folds of a blanket (don't worry, my real hiding places are much more creative than these). These journals are the kind that you carefully locate and secure before the PCS movers arrive to turn your house upside down, and move to another room entirely if your in-laws (or anyone for that matter) are staying in your guest room.
So, not because I think someone will care, not because I have some desire to be heard do I write. Why I do it I really don't know. I just do. Maybe the main reason is because I want to remember, want to be able to feel the feelings of my whole life again if I want to. And perhaps sharing parts of my life might be, by the grace of God, a small encouragement to someone out there. I don't really know. So if you're not into my helter-skelter, all over the place kind of writing, that's okay. I'm not doing it for you anyway.
I'm noticing that all of my personal posts have some sort of disclaimer like the one above. I wonder why I do that. But let's get back to the journey.
Like most girls, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. Even when we were trying not to get pregnant, and somehow thought that maybe we were, I was excited. Once we started "not trying not to", which turned into trying, I used to keep track of the number of months that my heart fell every time I realized that I had been tricked once more by foolish hope. I think that number was around 66 or 67 last time I checked. Truth is, somehow I always knew. Before we had any reason to think anything was wrong, I remember asking the doctor if he saw any reason I might not get pregnant. He laughed and said no. I even asked him to do further tests, answer still no. After a year, we kind scratched our heads and thought hmmm...then two years, then three then four. During that time, I was privy to the discovery of so many pregnancies. I won't tell you how many times I fell into my husband's arms and cried after a friend shared her exciting news, so broken and ashamed of myself for not being able to share in their joy. He learned to be prepared for this, and always held me quiet strong; there never were any words. Moving so much, and not wanting to know, prevented us from getting to the heart of the matter until year 5. I remember the day when the truth rolled in, sure and solid. I sat outside our house before we drove to our appointment, in a swing on a playground, and thanked God that He had made us wait. I thanked him for all the time he had given me to learn how to be a mom from others, and to mature in my faith. Then we drove to the doctor. That experience was awful. The doctor basically insulted us for not realizing there was a problem sooner (which we did) and then told us that my husband was a no go without in-vitro. He even told us infertility "jokes". How anyone could find that a joking subject, I know not. I wanted to punch him in the face and call him many, many bad words. Instead, I blinked back the flood. In the elevator on the way out, we were accompanied by a young teenage girl with a bulging middle. Her eyes said she didn't want this, and mine said I was desperate for it. In the car, the flood came.
My husband couldn't understand how I was so surprised. I don't know either. I think the correct term might be denial. On the way home that day, something else awful happened. We were suddenly divided...on different pages. I wanted to start in-vitro right away, and he didn't. Pause here and think about a little girl throwing a fit because she wasn't getting her way. I admit it, that's what I did. It was a bad day. I'm not going to try to remember how that felt or what I said; I don't want to.
Finally, we agreed to pray that God would give us one mind about how to start our family. So I prayed this, heart bent on it being "my mind" that we came to. I didn't believe that God could change my mind, so obviously it would be Matt's that would be changed.
Ok, that's enough for one post...I'm losing interest in writing and I'm hungry.

J LOVES CAKE!!

And I loved this session!  I was told the cake wasn't bad either.  I may or may not have sampled it during the clean up process.  Well, this may be the most enjoyable, entertaining session I have ever done.  J is just such a smiley child.  She is always happy (unless of course, someone tries to take away her candy or cake.  The child has a definite sweet tooth!).  Her expressions were priceless!  I wish I had been able to video it.  At first, her sampling of the cake started in a tentative, shy manner: sticking a single little finger in, licking off the frosting, looking at mom for the okay, and then giggling and batting her big baby blues.  As the session progressed, she grew bolder and bolder until she was grabbing big handfuls of the cake and trying to shove it all in her mouth, laughing and squealing all the while. 
This was the second "studio" session. Here are a few things I learned:
1. Don't use a wrinkled backdrop. (Duh, but the stupid "oh, I'll fix it in PS" idea allowed me to forgo this critical step.  I did fix it in photoshop, all 57 times.)
2.  Red velvet cake + white backdrop and white "studio floor"= I'll let you solve this one.
3. Have guest bathroom prepared for a bath immediately following the "cake smash"!
4. I think I want to specialize in child photography. Pure joy is what this whole session was for me.

Ok, now for the pics!!
                      

J.J.J. = Too cute for words!

This session was awesome. First of all, Trip (his initials are 3 Js) is just adorable.  And sweet.  And cuddly. And soft. And he smells good.  Secondly, this was my first session in my "in-home studio".  When I say that out loud, I say it with mock pomp and circumstance.  It sounds so professional.  Which is why I have to add the sarcasm, because the "studio" was anything but professional!  I should have taken a picture of the whole shebang, but I didn't.  I'll try to describe:  The location is a 10x12 room (my home office) that is already crowded with furniture, books and a computer. Photogs will understand exactly how far I was jammed up against the wall to frame the shot with my 50mm 1.4.  For the rest of you, I have a prime lens, which means you can't zoom, the focal point is fixed.  With a 50mm you have to be pretty far back to fit anything in your shot.  It's an awesome lens though, and I made it work.  I have, however, added 2 things to my wish list: a house with a big room with great natural light so I can have a real studio, and a new zoom lens.  No big deal right?  Someday, God willing. Also in my 10x12 room filled with furniture: a 4'x6' piece of white paneling and a wide baseboard, both of which I procured and had cut to size at Home Depot (I felt like a champ loading it in my husband's truck by myself), 2 fabric backdrops that were tacked into the sliding closet doors with thumbtacks, (yes, I know that was a bad move, my husband told me).  I also had borrowed a "baby poser" from a friend, and unearthed every soft, fuzzy blanket I own.
Everything came together when Trip arrived.  That's not to say that there were no incidents where things happened outside a diaper that should have happened inside a diaper.  It was definitely a learning experience for me, and I am so grateful that his parents (who are also my friends) care about supporting me in my endeavor, in addition to their desire to get great photos of their precious pup. I knew I could be trusted to get great shots, but I also knew the session wasn't going to be a smooth as it would have been had I had more experience.  You know that moment when something just clicks?  I had about 14 of those during our session.  The thing about photography is once you get it, you get it.  The other thing is that there is just a lot to get.
Anyway, I'm not sure why I felt the need to explain all of that.  Maybe because it was the first, ahem, studio experience.  You'll probably notice (as usual) the overarching theme of the idea of motherhood throughout.  I love capturing the family, and of course the baby by himself, but to me there is something so glorious about the relationship between mother and child.  My mother-heart wants her to look back at these photos when her son's 5, 10, 20 years old and feel, if only in a flicker of a memory, how she felt while she cradled him close, heart full to the brim.  And for the record, the daddy moments were just as sweet. These are special times.  And I want Mom and Dad to have them forever.  So much more than a technically correct image, I want to give them a treasure that will warm their hearts long after they are old and gray.  If I can achieve this, I'll consider myself a real photographer.