That’s right, two years five months…see “almost a half.” I am so busy taking pictures of everyone else that my own children’s sessions are constantly pushed to “next weekend.” Then another call comes in and I say “well, I can do their pictures next weekend.” You see the pattern here? “Next weekend” rarely comes. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have thousands of pictures, Snapchats, and Instagram posts that feature my babies…but rarely do I take the “big camera” out while at home. I am guilty just like the rest of the population of just whipping out my cell phone and taking a quick snap shot.
Maybe that should be my New Years Resolution for year 2017 (yes, I am well aware we are only in August…I’m just biding my time until October…and yes, I am one of “those people” :P) to use my camera for more than just sessions. To make everyday life one big session.
Anyway, finally “next weekend” came and I got up early, dressed my son in what I had planned for him since March, grabbed the bubbles, a few last-minute “props” (if you could call them that, more like improvisations), my camera, and walked outside for us to play. Now, I say play, because my son is not going to sit and pose for a portrait…don’t beleive me…here let me show you…
Yep…that is what happens when I try to get him to sit and pose (insert exasperated sigh).
Needless to say, I did not get all the pictures that my creative mind couldn’t wait to get…not even one eighth of the pictures I had planned out. And, I had so many shots planned out. I was going to get some in his batman cape, some of him sitting, some…oh well you know the drill, but that was not in the cards for me…no sir.
I did get some pictures though…and you know what? They were perfect. They were my son, all boy, and all wild. Once I accepted the fact that if I tried to get him to do what I wanted I would end up with exhibit A (refer back to the picture above), I was able to enjoy just being outside with him. His laugh loud and clear, while his daddy chased him or blew bubbles at him, and I perched un-noticed snapping picture after picture. This was one time I was happy to play the spectator.
I guess you could call what I ended up with a “candid session,” however I’m not worried about what I should label the type of pictures I captured. This was my son. My second little miracle baby…yep that’s right miracle baby. See, after we had my daughter we were told she was a fluke my little miracle baby number one (who spent time in the NICU and had her own rough start in this world), would probably never have a sibling without expensive medical intervention. Words that we refused to believe, and for eight years (yes, I said eight) we tried for another baby. I can’t even begin to tell you how many pregnancy tests were taken and tears I cried. Nor would I be able to tell you many times my husband held me not daring to say the words everyone else muttered in my ear which were “if it’s meant to be it will be.” Every time someone spoke those words to me I wanted to scream, “Yes, I know this!” A little secret, knowing did not nor does it ever take away the want. Everytime someone said those words or similar words it was a punch to the gut knocking the wind out of me.
Finally, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to happen. My daughter was now eleven and in middle school. I had wasted so much time being depressed, that I didn’t know how she even got to be eleven years old. I mean, I had just brought her home from the NICU yesterday…right? So, I decided to be happy (trust me, it was not as easy as I make it sound). I lost some weight…alot of weight, we traveled, we loved one another and I was at peace with the fact that I probably would not have another baby.
Then on July 5th, 2013 I decided to take a pregnancy test. I had done the math and realized that it was past time for mother nature to pay me a visit, which was not uncommon for me. But, at this point what was one more negative test, right? Only, this time it wasn’t negative. I took three more before I ran down the stairs of our apartment we were living in at the time, throwing the last test at my husband. He looked dumbfounded for a minute, not grasping what I was showing him, until I finally shouted “I’m pregnant!”
Nine months later, we had a bouncing baby boy…all ten pounds nine ounces of him (nope, that was not a typo). We all fell in love immediately, even his sister, who by the way was originally NOT excited to be a big sister. All, I can say is God has blessed me with my babies. While it hurt at the time, I would go back and take every single negative pregnancy test again if it meant that I would finally get that one positive.
So, without further ado…here is my boy, and he is all boy. Rough and tumble, wild, tough, sweet, funny, adorable, and all that falls in between baby boy…
Until next time…
That’s pure happiness you are witnessing!
“OK! I’m done…going inside.”
He was serious, he was right in front of me for this one. Taking my hand right after saying, “mon!” which is “Come on!”