To: Bean, Love: Mommy | Part I

My Dear Nollie, 

Four years ago my life changed forever because you entered into it. You will know this love one day, I hope, and you will love as intensly and selflessly as I try to.  

There is no conceivable, measurable amount to the depth of my love for you.  It is farther than the farthest galaxy and deeper than the deepest parts of the oceans.  As I have told you before and will tell you again, it is in every color of the rainbow and can be as loud as a lion or as soft as a whisper.  Sometimes my love feels big to you and sometimes my love feels small to you but we carry it together because it is with you that it came to be what it is.  I can't know if I had this love before you and it grew brighter or if you brought it with you through your grand entrance but it is ours.

You told me, not so long ago, that your "most favorite" part about being a baby was being naked with me at the hospital because it was silly and funny and special.  It's not my place to say what you remember and what you don't because in this instance, memory has nothing to do with the message.  You know, as I do, that birthing you was as breathtaking for me as it was to be you on that very day.  

My bean, I had no idea that in an instant, my love and my heart and my existence could be completely transformed into unrecognizable territory.  Who I am as a mommy is greater, fiercer, braver, funnier, sillier, and smarter than who I ever was before.  I had been shaped and molded, fine-tuned and oiled, inspired and intrigued in a matter of seconds.

I had always had these ideas in my head about the importance of a nuclear family; a family that lives together, eats together, and sleeps under the same roof every day of the week.  A nuclear family was something I wanted with passion and vigor.  As you know, it has not been this way.  Some days have been difficult, some have been crawl-out-of-my-skin unbearable, but most days give me blocks that I use to build me a new way of being.  It is our life, as perplexing and unpredictable as it can be, and I am trying to teach you to embrace it in all it's non-traditional glory.

 It has been these four years that have proven our strength and resiliency as a duo.  Through my discipline and rules, you have found a way to be my best friend.  As unmotherly as this might sound to most mothers; I look to your opinion when I make nearly every decision of my life.  I value your four year old intelligence and wit, your untamed heart, and your unsoiled-by-society perspectives.  My favorite quality about you is that you are as intuitive about human behaviors as I am, so much so, that if I am distracted while you are speaking to me, you have been known to say, "What did I just say mommy?  Because you weren't listening."  And when I tell you to be careful with new toys, you have been known to offer age-old wisdom: "It's just a toy Mom.  A toy. It's okay if it breaks." 

I have tried to be as transparent as I possibly can be, as a mommy and as a human being.  You've seen some of my ugliest traits, you've witnessed me at my weakest, and you've triumphed with me in the most mundane celebrations (mommy got her oil changed finally!).  We have had some challenging roads and there's no doubt we will travel more challenging ones in the future but know that I will always try my best to walk alongside you while we endure them together.  I will always respect you and your independence while balancing my mommy instincts of what you are ready and what you are not ready to experience.  

To know you is to love you Nollie Bean.  You are spunky and funny, kind, stubborn, grateful, and creative.  Watching you grow and change into the "big girl" that I'm proud to call my daughter has felt like my privilege, my gift, the ultimate adventure in my learning and life.  

Here are some of my favorite qualities about you: 

You are inquisitive and curious and intelligent. 

You are a collector of trinkets.  

You love strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries and are known to eat an entire carton in one sitting.  

You are not afraid to tell your dad and I that grandma makes better "chopped chucky" and oatmeal or that the toy you were just gifted should go to the Goodwill.  

You move your body to any kind of music.  

You are tentative around loud and abrasive persons.  

You ask permission, most times.  And you say your apologies even if it takes a time out to say it.  

You'd rather be outside than inside.

You could take or leave TV. 

You already know how to devour a good book.

Critically thinking is one of your strongest assets and I hope you never lose it. 

Sometimes I watch you sleep; your little lashes flutter and your mouth a perfect pouted rosebud.  In those moments of sheer silence I think of all the things I can't give you yet and all the areas that I am lacking in your perfection.  But Bean, I am confident that one day when all is said and done, we will both know that we have all we will ever need.

Tiffany & Steven | Married!

It started with a facebook message:  "Your photos are fabulous and you have an eye for sweet moments! Let me know if you are interested in doing weddings and if you have a ballpark on prices. My date is 9-15-12 and we haven't decided on a photographer."  My thoughts:   "Surely she has GOT to be kidding."   What I said to my roommate:  "I just got this message inquiring a price to shoot a wedding.  There is no possible way I could ever shoot a wedding.  I'm referring her. That's too much pressure."    What my roommate with doe eyes and a shrug of her shoulders said:  "Well?  You never know." Truth is: I wanted to dodge shooting this wedding.  I wanted to weasel my way out.  I suggested another photographer.  I even told my very first bride-to-be everything that a scared out-of-her-mind-first-time-photographer only thinks; A) I've never done a wedding solo before, B) I'm not very confident at posing people, C) I don't have all the right equipment, D) Are you SURE?!?"  And my bride-to-be, who at this very moment turned into my savior said, "If you don't get [image x,y,z] than the sun will come up tomorrow."   And, with that, I told myself?  Grow up Bre. The insecure, less than confident photographer inside my brain told me to scram and that I was way out of my league and I had absolutely no business collecting money for something I thought I was less than adequate in and the insecure, less than confident photographer in my heart said, she's giving you the chance you've always wanted.  Take it and RUN with it you crazy lady!   But of course this story is only half mine, or really, not at all mine.  Tiffany gave me a chance because she liked and agreed with my vision as an artist.  I think I can say with confidence that she appreciates the flaws as much as she does the perfections, because if not, she would have never hired me to capture the day that will only happen once in her lifetime.  I felt and still feel privileged and honored to celebrate in her and Steven's day.  I feel a kindred spirit in Tiffany for the tenacity and resiliency that glows from her and a fondness for Steven who adores those very things about her.   It is so cliche when I hear people say "they are meant to be" but to be honest, I don't even care how cliche I sound to myself right now because these two...they are meant to be.  It's as if they are an old married couple already together for 40 years.  They were "for better or for worse" before they ever said "I do."  And oh how sweet that day was.  Tiffany spent endless hours and countless days working on details from her "here comes the bride sign" to the hangers for her bridesmaids dresses down to the kid's take home bags that she forgot to give them because she was so wrapped up in being in love with her husband...which is exactly how it should be.  I'll stop with the gushing...see for yourself! Be sure to check out the slideshow (which includes two of the bride and groom's favorite songs) at the end of this post for the full wedding and Steven's epic air guitar solo!      Steven bought Tiffany a solitaire necklace.  I think her expression is priceless..  To see more of Tiffany and Steven's wedding day, watch here!

This is how he say's "happy anniversary:"

I love you too Alex.  

And thanks... 

for putting up with me.

for being patient with me. 

for loving my daughter as if she's your own.

for honoring my relationship with her daddy.

for teaching me, through example, that our dreams can be our life.

for leaving me speechless at least once a day.

for calling me out on my bullshit, and still loving me afterward.

for being honest, always.

for believing in me as a mom, a student, a "picture-taker," a writer, a training therapist, a girlfriend.

for picking me up when I fall, and than picking me up again...and again...and again.

for staying true to you.

for finding me.

Thanks for being my boyfriend all year.

Good greif!  I say.  I’ve had enough of that (literally).

 

It's time for some happiness.

Let’s jump right in.

I have this little dude in my life named Cole who is ¼ brother, ¼ son, ¼ miracle, and ¼ awesome.  He was born six years ago to my ¼ mom, ¼ best friend, ¼ sister, ¼ arch-nemesis.  He really is a miracle, in every sense of the word, if you believe in the word.  And she’s really not my arch-nemesis but sometimes, in the back corner of my mind when all the good griefs of life seem to take up the shades of gray that make life manageable, my anger surrounding orphanhood comes out on her.  When I say she takes all the blame, I mean it. 

Cole is Megan and Doug’s miracle.

Cole is a miracle because Megan couldn’t have kids. 

He’s a miracle because she conceded to “not want kids.” 

He’s a miracle because she was told in a cold emergency room, at month six, to go home and let the baby die and come back when it’s over. 

He’s a miracle because, after too many miscarriages, he was the persistent and resilient one.

Cole is my miracle too.

I found out Cole was on his way when I was 18, in my first year of undergrad.  I was jealous and angry in the knowing she was pregnant because I conjured up the worst-case scenario: that Megan and Doug will have something to love more than me.  It’s sort of like when you drop your second scoop of ice cream from the cone, right after the first scoop.  My feelings were so unbearable around the subject that I made no room for absolute elatedness at said miracle.

I didn’t see it at the time but Cole would be the cornerstone of the rebuilding of my existence.  People were being stripped from my life like a band-aid but Cole was the golden nugget of hope.  He was the piece de la résistance.  He was placed into my arms on September 27 (because I waited a day to meet him, par for the course in delaying acceptance) and in lesser words he said, “You’re going to love me while you’re still missing people.  You didn’t know you could do that, did you?  I’m going to be worth the letting go.  It starts now.” 

And so my journey with Cole and my acceptance of life started.  My learning was slow as molasses and the telltale signs of growth were not so “telltale” but I had his consistent growth to encourage me along.  I was slowly opening my zipped up heart while he was reaching for objects.  When he learned how to kiss, I felt myself reweaving the silver thread of lining that I had previously tore to shreds.  He took his first few steps and I, in turn, took the necessary ones to change the direction of my sails.  We explored the world together.  I found awe in the same intricacies of a flower as he did.  We pointed at clouds and the moon and found a hiding place underneath the neighbors old willow tree.  I threw rocks into puddles with him, shared the first taste of brownie batter together, and collected the coolest sticks.  My favorite part was when we danced in the kitchen together, when no one was home, and my companion slowly taught me that the development of goofiness could move me through the resistance of change. 

Cole’s lessons come from a place of pure youth but his lessons are as old as time.  I have kept a journal of some of his lessons over the 6 ½ years that he has been with us.  Enjoy.