We are going to adopt. Part 2.

Where was I?  Oh yes, different pages.  The worst possible place for a marriage to be.  We have a wonderful marriage, and we agree on pretty much everything.  We love each other, like each other, enjoy each other.  That in itself can only be attributed to God.  We were such idiots when we got married, headed straight for failure.  But He saved us. He taught us to respect and love one another.  To love Him... That's another story though...
So facing the fact that we were in complete disagreement about our future was not fun.  I felt so lonely, so far away from him at first.  And I was angry.  We didn't really work it out; we couldn't.  We finally just quit talking about it and went on with life.  And we both kept praying.  Alone, and together, hands clasped kneeling before bed, despite the pride and selfishness that welled up inside of me. That was October 9, 2009. 

The First Heart-Change

This is a journal entry I wrote on Oct. 18, 2009.

Wow.  What a day.  Today something important happened.  I was listening to the sermon at church about Ephesians Ch. 3, and it was like God was definitely speaking to me.  I saw my life unfold in front of me as if it was a carpet.  Pastor was talking about Paul, and how he called himself a prisoner of Jesus Christ.  He rejoiced in his suffering as a Roman prisoner. And he completely trusted God.  God worked good through him.  When we fully trust in God, we allow Him to work mightily.  I have long prayed that God would teach me how to trust Him.  And now I see.  For the past 4 years, I have clung to the hope of having my own children, from my womb, and the joy that would come from being pregnant.  But that all revolved around me.  Yeah, I guess I could be satisfied with adopting, as a last resort.  Hopefully.  It was all selfish!  For my fulfillment!  Today I realized that if I will trust God, and allow Him to use me, He will do great things.  Think of all of the good that can be done if I can just trust!  I feel like I am standing at the edge of a cliff, and I have enough faith to jump, giving up all control.  I have been told and have read that God will protect me, and if I believe it, I will jump.  The fear is strong.  There is a lot to be afraid of. But I felt my world shift today.  No longer a selfish dread about what will happen if things don't go according to "my plan".  I felt that fade, and I felt a twinge of excitement as I thought about what joy will come from serving my Lord and being confident I am doing His will.  How can I ever teach a child to trust Him if I don't trust Him myself?
Paul had absolute, total trust in God's purpose.
Phil:1:12 says " For I want  you to know brethren, that the things which happen to me have actually turned out for the furtherance of the gospel."

That was the day that adoption became an option for me.  I wasn't ready to say that I wanted to do it.  Those motherly instincts were still there.  The idea of not ever getting to see 2 lines, or to feel a kick, or to hear that first cry, a cry of both our voices in one, still hurt.  It still does.  But I knew that God would take me where I couldn't take myself in my own strength.  He would give me the courage to face my fears about what people would say, whether or not I could really love the child, what if the child turned out to be crazy and hard  and ruined our lives.  I know that sounds extreme, but if you've stood or are standing in my shoes, you know.  Even if you're to afraid to voice it.  He would sustain me through the trials.  After becoming a Christian, I kept hearing people talk about "surrendering" to God.  I never understood what that meant.  Now I do.  God has denied us biological children for a reason. To give us faith. To fulfill His purposes.

I'd like to say that immediately after my revelation, we decided to adopt, and lived happily ever after.  My heart was changing, but it wasn't there yet.  Adoption was still second best in my heart of hearts.  But at least it was an option. 
Christmas came, and we got busy with life.  We continued to pray.  2010 rolled in and things got a little crazy. In April, I went to the doctor for this pesky recurrent chest pain, and ended up in the hospital for 2 weeks with a collapsed lung.  The next month it happened again, and I had my second surgery and it was confirmed by biopsy that I have a condition called catamenial pneumothorax. Basically, I have endometriosis in my diaphragm, which put holes in the diaphragm, causing the lung to collapse.  I could go into all of the details, but I prefer not to think about those couple of months.  It was a really trying time.  I didn't know it then, but another piece of our family future would fit together during these challenging months.

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.