Photographs

    I have been quietly struggling lately. It is not a struggle for a birth mother(though, that plays into it), it is a struggle for a person from a broken home. When we first were trying to decide if we wanted to give the baby to the family we did, we of course got the usual book about them, but we also got a baby book for their son. It was written to him, from the point of view of his parents, and it was about how God got him to them. Ethan also brought me one for our girl when he went to see them over the summer. I had been wanting to make her one from Ethan and I's point of view from the very beginning, and God handed me that opportunity with a free Shutterfly book that Ethan won through McDonald's Monopoly. Seriously, it was God. I didn't even have to pay for shipping with that monopoly piece. I was so excited.
       I made it for her, it was full of pictures of Ethan and I, and it tried to explain just how much we love her. As I made it though, I became more and more aware of the photographs I encountered. And I came to a realization that broke my heart: there is not a house in the world with my pictures hanging in it. I do not have any school pictures tucked away in anyone's wallet. I have no grandparents to proudly say "that's my granddaughter, isn't she beautiful?" to the other octogenarians around them. Nothing. I might as well be invisible to people outside my family, because there is no photographic trace of me anywhere in my life. I first noticed this right after the baby was born and within days, Ethan's mother had pictures printed of everyone holding the baby. Everyone but me. Even my sister was featured. At first we all laughed, 'how did that happen?' 'you should be grateful, you didn't exactly look your best' and all that. But then I started look around more. Nowhere in my Aunt and Uncle's house am I featured. This doesn't really bug me, there aren't many pictures in the house at all, but it still caught my notice. And in Ethan's house, everyone got new pictures printed and featured, even the one I worked so hard to bring into this world. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't expect Ethan's family to proudly feature me in any of their photographs. I am not part of the family. No matter how much we pretend. I am not married to Ethan, I don't wear his name, and I have no right to think I should be in any pictures. That is not what bugged me. What irked me is that I once again, do not have that. My mother's house, to my knowledge, doesn't bear my face anywhere. My father is gone. His side of the family is far off in California and has never met me, much less felt the need to display my likeness anywhere. And all of my grandparents are gone. I never took senior pictures. There is no one to show me off. And that is kind of hard to swallow. Everyone has pictures somewhere they're embarrassed of, that some relation loves whipping out at every opportunity. Me, I have a singular precious box of pictures from my childhood. And that is about it.
        Now, I know God gave me this path for a reason, that he gives me strength at every turn, but that doesn't mean that I am perfect. That I don't sit around and wallow in how much this life has hurt once in a while. Because I do, more often than I care to admit. The reason this is so important to me is that photographs are so important in the American culture. People display the people they love, and care about, to remind themselves to love and care about those people. They are hung to commemorate achievements, celebrate great times, and to mourn the loss of others. They're special. Even people who are dirt poor payed to have photographs in the depression. It was important to them. And as the history major that I am sifts through the photographs of yesterday, I can't help but to remember how small the chances are that a photograph of me will survive to tomorrow. That I will be quickly forgotten, because I don't even exist in material culture today.
      I am grateful to God that my girl will never know that twinge of pain that is like a knife to her heart. Her picture was hanging in her house before she was even born. I am so grateful that they take the time to have family pictures taken and printed and disbursed among their loved ones. My family only had it together enough to have one picture taken of all four of us, and I was just a baby.
     I guess the point I am trying to make is this: take photographs. Print them. Label them. Display them proudly. Do this for everyone you love and care about. Because as someone who has experienced so much pain, throwing invisibility on top of it all isn't really the best way to assure someone they care. I was ignored so much as a child, I have so many trust issues, and I find it hard to believe people actually care about me. I am always sure they like me as a means to get what they want. Lately I have been hearing the evil whispers in my ears that it was all because of what my uterus held. And this poison has been filling my heart with hurt and anguish. I know this is not true, and I know that God made my story so much bigger than having a baby and giving her up. But sometimes, a little reassurance is nice, you know? Take pictures. Write on the back of them. Tell historians what was happening to whom and when and how old they were. Allow your loved ones to live on in archives of tomorrow. But most of all, put them on display. Be proud to show off your people and their accomplishments and their youth and beauty. I find myself praying this morning that at least God in heaven has a picture of me somewhere. That he is gesturing to my loved ones that are with him, and saying (instead of 'look at what she has done') "Just wait till you see what I've got for her next. I am so very proud of her."  I am grateful that at least I never have to doubt His love for me. And, that, above all else, is what brings me comfort in this pain.

A Trip to Texas!

             Over the long weekend, Ethan and I got to take a trip to see my favorite family. I must say, it was so wonderful! After the long drive we had, it was so nice to walk into a home where I felt so welcomed and loved. After many hugs, the son was so excited to have people to play with. And trust me, I was excited to play with him again! He is so fun, sweet, and smart!
          I was amazed at how non-emotional the weekend was. No tears were shed, no pain was had by any of us (except for a couple of sleepy kids once in a while). I was so genuinely happy to see the family as a whole, not just the one I happened to give birth to. She is a giant! I could not believe how big and smart she is! Although she is not talking quite yet, she has a lot to say. She also zips all over the house, crawling as fast as she can. And she had been able to hold onto something and stand herself up for a while, but she is not walking just yet. It is only a matter of time, I am sure.
      As a special treat, the family took us to their favorite seafood place in Galveston. It was pretty tasty, and definitely the freshest fish I've ever had. After that, we took a little walk on the beach, an extra special treat just for me, since they knew how much I desperately love the ocean. Now, I know it was technically the gulf, and I know it was not the prettiest beach that has ever been, but I still treasured it. I have only gotten to see the ocean four times now and I relish in it every time I can. As we walked along, I picked up a perfect little shell to mark the occasion.

I love this seashell. It is so perfect and small. And it really represents the time we had with the family. It was small, entirely too short, but it was perfect. I would not trade it for anything, even if I was totally swamped and exhausted this week. I am so grateful to God for the gift of that family, for their presence in my life.
       After the beach, we went around the historic parts of Galveston, which I of course loved. We went to an old fashioned confectionery and ice cream parlor. So fun! One of my favorite parts of the weekend was when we had breakfast together the morning Ethan and I had to leave. We had pumpkin coffee cake with it and the little one tried some. She loved it so much! It made me laugh because my biggest craving while I was pregnant was pumpkin. I wanted it all the time. I was sure that since I wanted it so much while I was pregnant, the baby would not like pumpkin at all once she was born. I was wrong!
      After we departed, we stopped for a lovely dinner at Ethan's Aunt's house. It was so fun! And I got to play with some sweet doggies, which I always enjoy.
      I am so grateful for my trip to Texas. Even if the drivers there really tried to kill me and Ethan! It was so nice to see people that are so constantly on my mind and my heart. I really hope they come to treasure the visits as much as I do someday. Or at least realize how very much they mean to me. I love them. I love Ethan. And I love God for the gifts he has given me. I am so blessed to live in a time where Open Adoption exists. I do not know what I would do if I had lost my daughter completely, instead of gaining a family I love.  I cannot imagine the pain that comes with. I am so blessed.