I’ve been taking photos for Nicole & Dustin for almost THREE years!

Dustin is overseas defending our freedoms – so capturing the birth of this little guy was VERY VERY important. And I got sick. Sick enough that I couldn’t risk exposing a new momma and baby to the germs. I was SO SO SO upset. I knew that if I couldn’t be there with these dear friends (I love clients that turn into GOOD friends) that someone would have to be. Who better than the girl who photographed Fitzy’s birth?

Bridget Reed did a beautiful job with his birth! THANK YOU SO MUCH for stepping in for me!

Thankfully – I got over my nasty cold just in time to photograph him while I was in town!

I’ve been disappointed with my newborn results lately. I am trying to be someone I’m not – as far as the style goes. With *G* I just put aside all the expectations in my own head and photographed him. I LOVE they way they turned out. It’s exactly the style I want to represent. I can’t wait to try out some more ideas next time!

LOVE!

You’ll be getting lots of little looks at *G* this year! While his daddy is fighting for us – I’ll take pictures of him every month!

Taylor is one of my favorite people to photograph! I love being able to capture each step in her life – especially with Tom and little *S*.

SERIOUSLY – GORGEOUS!

Don’t worry – little *S* had his socks RIGHT back on after this shot!

I love when ideas in my head come out PERFECTLY!

LOVE LOVE LOVE THOSE SHOTS!

This little guy gets his 6 month session next week – but I HAD to get a recreation of his newborn photo!

Thank you for asking me to capture this moment for you!

I bought this cute little outfit for Fitzy when he was just a month old!

It’s a 3T set – and I can’t believe that he fits in it already – well – almost! I plan on using it for his 2 year pictures at the end of April! But I had to get some cute snow pictures!

Oh Fitzy – you hold my heart!

Fitzy – we love you SO MUCH!

I took *J*’s newborn pictures in July – you know – when it was warm and lovely out!

Since his 6 months fell in the winter – we used the library at MU for his session – and it worked out GREAT!

Well – hello Mr. President!

SERIOUSLY!

Ashley – thanks so much for having me capture your little man! See you in April!

Four years. Four years ago today we lost our first baby – little Enoch. The darkest times of my life followed. I lost hope. I was angry with God. I questioned Him. I prayed. I cried. I asked. I hurt. He listened and healed. The process was slow – on my end.

He gave. He showered me with love and grace. He held me. Hurting and crying. Lost and desperate. I felt alone and forgotten. And He gave. It’s crazy.

I’m so thankful for that time. I’m thankful that I can be a shoulder for other women going through loss and struggling to have a baby. I wish I didn’t have a list. I wish I didn’t have 74 people listed – people who wanted. People who waited. People who are still wanting. And waiting. But the reality is – I do. They are there. And so I name them. I bold them and italicize them and write BABY after their names when their little ones come. I pray every day for them. And while I wish that they didn’t have to be on that list – I pray.

I wouldn’t change what happened. You’d think I would. But I wouldn’t even be aware of those 74 names is we hadn’t lost Enoch. I wouldn’t be aware of hurting hearts – praying for a baby to hold. To love. I’m blessed to pray for them. I’m blessed to be involved in their lives. I’m blessed to hold babies. Babies whose names have been always known to God. Prayers that have been whispered and cried and shouted and screamed and begged. Prayers that are now warm little babies. Beautiful babies. And because of this – I am blessed.

We wouldn’t have Fitzgerald if we had been given Enoch. We might have had another baby at the same exact time – but it wouldn’t be exactly Fitzgerald. And he is amazing. I cannot imagine my life without him in it. He has touched us in so many ways. And while I wouldn’t have known any different – I like to think I might have. I might know that he was out there. Meant to be ours but not with us. And I would miss him. Terribly.

On February 13th – it had been a year since our little Joy Christina left us for heaven. I didn’t write a blog. I remembered her and thanked God for the tiny time she was here. I was hurting then – a month ago. Badly – and while writing is therapeutic for me – I couldn’t sit down and talk about my goodbyes to her. It hurt too much. I wanted another baby so badly and to remember that she was taken too early – was too much to bear. So I didn’t. And I felt bad. Like she would be upset that I didn’t acknowledge her. But that’s silly. I know that she knows I love her.

And in a month – God has given me peace.

A week from today was our due date with our 4th baby – Lewis Samuel. And I sit here typing this – there are no tears streaming down my face. Not that crying would have been bad. But I’ve cried so much. I’ve missed so much. I’ve mourned so much.

And it’s time.

It’s time for joy. And for peace. And for rejoicing. And for that – I am glad.

Enoch – you are the baby that started it all. You were our first. And while I never saw you – not even on an ultrasound screen – I know your face. I love you dear boy.

Joy – you were a surprise. A joyous surprise. One that we never met. You would be 6 months old today. I imagine you with curls. And green eyes. I love you dear girl.

Lewis – I was convinced that you were a baby meant for my arms. We saw you on an ultrasound. Heard your tiny heartbeat. And still you left. In a week from today I would have been holding you in my arms – realizing that I’ve known your face my whole life. If we hadn’t lost Joy – we wouldn’t have you. And for that – I am thankful. I love you dear boy.

We miss you so much down here.

But I love that you are there.

At the end of January – Fitzy turned 21 months old – TWENTY ONE! (which is when I wrote this)

How on earth is this happening?

He can point out the colors – blue – black – brown – orange – pink – green. Sometimes purple and yellow! He can do puzzles almost by himself – we still have to help him fit the piece in – but he knows where they go! He can tell you YES and NO about what he wants or doesn’t. He LOVES his bottle. He LOVES Toy Story and Fraggle Rock. He goes around the house saying – I – E – O – T – U – A – P – he LOVES to read everything that has words. He loves to cook and help do dishes. He makes eggs with me in the morning and does laundry. He loves spending time with his grandparents. He does NOT love sleep.

OH MY WORD! I just love that little face!

We spent the night with my in-laws after I hit the gas hookup to our house. Yes. You read that right. Thankfully we weren’t blown up – but the fire department and the gas company came and our house wasn’t cleared until the next day.

Fitzy didn’t mind the time with gramma and grandpa – he could stay there forever.

OH THAT FACE!

I just adore him!

70 names. 19 with babies. 15 pregnant. 39 wanting. pray.

If you are friends with me on FACEBOOK – you’ve seen something like this as my status. Over and over. It might be obnoxious. But I can’t stop. Seriously. CANNOT STOP.

70 names. 19 with babies. 15 pregnant. 39 wanting. pray. that was March 6th. 

67 names. 18 with babies. 8 pregnant. 41 wanting.pray. that was March 5th.

In one day – ONE DAY – pregnant almost doubled. DOUBLED.

Today – I’m not sad. I haven’t been sad about not having another baby for about a week now. That’s a HUGE step for me. I am finally letting the peace that God has given me about our decision take over – instead of fighting it. Fighting it because we should have 3 more. I’m feeling peace instead of being angry and hurt. Instead of wondering why me and why NOT me at the same time. It’s awesome. And I finally don’t feel guilty saying that.

God has placed SUCH a heavy burden on my heart for these 70 women that have asked for prayer (or have been put on my list by someone that loves them). There is not ONE SINGLE DAY that goes by that I don’t pray for them. I am in awe. I am overwhelmed at the emails and messages. The tears and the hopes. The amazing blessings that are pouring out on “my” wanting mommas. I am usually one of the FIRST people to know about their little babies. It gives me goosebumps. I cry and pray and thank Jesus for their gifts.

But I also don’t forget the heartaches. While that number has almost doubled – a few days before that – it was at 10. Then at 8. Two of those wanting mommas lost their miracles. It’s not fair. It hurts. And I italicize their name – cus I know that I wanted my lost ones recognized. And I pray again. For renewed strength and hope. And then again for more hope. Because I lost mine. So I pray again for even more hope.

Speaking of hope – I asked a woman I admire to share her journey with me. With you. With us. To encourage. To give hope. Here is her story.

I hope that my story will be a source of encouragement and support for those many couples who are praying for children with their prayers not yet answered.

I was 21 when I was diagnosed with Endometriosis.  It was very painful and debilitating.  After many unsuccessful treatments I ended up having an emergency hysterectomy when I was 23.  I had never been pregnant, so I knew I was never going to be able to give birth to my own children.  This was something that I needed to grieve and accept.  I needed to accept that I was never going to experience the joy of hearing, “You are pregnant”.  I was never going to be able to tell my husband that he was going to be a daddy.  I was never going to experience the “pregnancy glow” that I saw so many woman have. I was never going to experience a child growing inside of me, feeling a little flutter and then later a huge kick. I am sure some of you reading this can relate on many levels to what I am saying.

There was a part of me that felt that I was being punished by God for some reason.  Part of me felt that maybe God felt that I was not going to be a good mommy.  I was not sure.  All I knew was that I had a huge void in my life and nothing was going to fill it except a baby.

When I met my husband, I had the scary task of telling him that I was unable to have children.  I was terrified that he would reject me.  I felt like I was “damaged goods”.  When I finally worked up the courage to tell him, he looked me in the eyes and said, “So, we will adopt”.  The relief I felt was indescribable.

About a year after we were married we began our adoption process.  We had no idea what we were doing.  We began looking online for foreign adoptions, but knew there was no way we could afford them.  We also felt there we so many children in the US that needed good homes.  We prayed that God would lead us to the children He wanted us to parent.
We filled out applications and looked at different lawyers and agencies.  We were so disheartened that it felt that kids were being sold.  We got tired of the price tags on children’s heads.  When we did get interviews from one particular agency we felt like we were  being treated like deviants because we could not have biological children.  The questions we were asked were invasive and judgmental.  At least from our perspective of two adults who really wanted children.

After 2 years of searching, crying, praying and being told by people that we should, “Go into foster care and be happy with what we have if we are so hard up to be parents”.  Yes, we were told that.  We went through depression phases, anger phases, resignation phases, everything.

On April 7, 1998, we received a phone call from a woman from Catholic Charities.  She asked us if we are still looking to adopt a child.  We said, “YES! Of course!” She then, almost apologetically, said, ” Well, this baby is black”.  I replied, “So? I don’t care about color”.  She told us that many black couples had refused her because she was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and addicted to crack.

We wanted her.  We had 3 very long days to get ready and wait. We had a 4 hour drive ahead of us before we could meet our daughter and bring her home.  The night before we left, I checked the nursery over. We had bought everything. Everything except crib sheets!  How could we forget those?  We ran out to Wal*Mart and bought crib sheets, washed them and put them on the crib.  We couldn’t sleep. We left at 3 AM.

We got there at 7 in the morning and decided to walk on the Lake Michigan shore.  BIG MISTAKE.  I had an asthma attack and didn’t have my inhaler.  My husband wanted to take me to the ER, but I wouldn’t let him. Instead we drove to a store for some Primatine Mist. Thank the Good Lord, it worked!  There was NO WAY I was going to miss out on meeting my daughter.  Then we realized we did not have the car seat attached properly.  Laughing at ourselves, 2 highly educated people couldn’t figure this out! We worked on it for quite a while in a McDonalds parking lot.
Finally. 11 AM.  Time to meet our daughter.  We drove to the agency.  Excited.  Nervous.  Eager.  Happy.  Euphoric.  We met her.  All 3 pounds 15 ounces of her.  She was perfect.  Sweet.  Crying like crazy.  It was surreal.

I remember 3 days later, holding her in my hands wondering who this was.  In that exact moment I fell in love with her and finally knew what love really was.  Even though it wasn’t long before we were in and out of doctor’s offices, hospitals and specialists for the next 15 years.  We knew without a doubt that she was meant to be ours.

By July of that same year, we decided we wanted a sister for our little girl!  Since it took 2 years of “labor pains” for our first daughter, we wanted to get started right away with the process.  A friend of mine worked with an adoption agency and called us asking if we were interested in a 15 month old girl, born with similar circumstances as our first.  We said, “YES!”  We began the process of getting ready for her. She had been in foster care all of her life except 3 days and they wanted to place her ASAP.

We went through the interview process.  We met her.  We were in love with her!  She was delightful!  Precious!  They were interviewing another couple, but felt that we were the ones they wanted to her to be placed with so it was just a formality.  Nothing to worry about.  We would get a phone call by the end of next week.  Next week came and went.  We didn’t get a phone call.  I called the Social Worker to find out what was going on.  She said that she couldn’t bring herself to call us because they decided to place the girl with the other couple.  The husband played for the Colts and the wife was a professional.  They could raise her to be a “productive member of society”.  I sobbed.  I was angry.  I told her that wasn’t my definition of success.  My husband and I cried and grieved.  We felt in our heart of hearts that this wasn’t right.

Two weeks later I can home from school to find my husband in the nursery moving things around.  I asked him what he was doing.  He replied that we was getting ready to bring our daughter’s sister home.  I thought he had lost it.  He told me to check the answering machine.  The Social Worker had called.  The couple had given the baby back.  They found out that she was pregnant and they did not want to raise their child with a “crack baby” for fear that the adopted baby would hurt their real baby.  So, once again we began to process of bringing our second daughter home.  We began with many visits.  This felt right.  By November of that same year, we brought our second daughter home to live with us!

About a year later we began the adoption process again.  We wanted more children, a house full.  Over the next couple of years we had many “adoption miscarriages”.  That is the only way I can think of to describe them.  So painful!  Then we found a birth mother who was 6 months pregnant.  We updated out autobiography and met with the adoption agency.  The birth mother chose us to be the family she wanted to raise her son.  We named him.  We fell in love with him.  We told our daughters about their baby brother.  We were supposed to pick him up at the hospital the weekend he was born.  We had a diaper bag packed and ready to go.  The weekend came and went.  We called the Social Worker.  The birth mother changed her mind and took the baby home with her.  I fell apart.  I told my husband, “No more”.  I cannot go through the emotional ups and downs of this.  We grieved “our son” for a while.  To this day we bring him up from time to time.

We then moved back “home”.  After a few years we decided to once again pursue adoption.  I felt that I wasn’t finished having children.  So we went through the loops, took the necessary classes and looked on the SWAN website for sibling groups.  We wanted to focus on siblings since they were harder to place.  There was no success.  A lot more pain.

We realized that we were going to be a family of 4 and we were okay with that.  We felt totally blessed with our daughters.  Yet, there was still a nagging feeling inside of me.  I wanted 1 more baby.  Allan did not feel the same way.  So it was put on the back burner.

Two years ago, my husband and I brought up adoption again.  This time we were both ready to think about it.  But we decided that if we were going to do this then God had to lead us because I did not have it in me to face further rejection.

In June of 2011 we were at a car dealership literally signing papers for a used van when my sister called asking if we wanted to adopt a baby.  She told me the situation.  The birth mother was 14 and looking for someone to adopt her baby.  She was due in one month.  We said, “YES!”  Right away we got a lawyer and called the agency we used when we took the classes years before.  They both thought this was never going to happen since we had only spoken with the grandmother of the baby, not the mother.  I assured them it was happening.  We got ready for the baby.

On July 9, 2011, we welcomed our 3rd daughter into our family.  I was able to be in the delivery room and cut the umbilical cord!  Our family is complete.  For now.  We will never turn away a child if one is presented to us.

So, God answered my prayers.  I am a mom.  I love my daughters SO much!  They are my answers to prayer.  My gifts.  My miracles.  I learned a lot these past 15 years.  So many people tell me how blessed the girls are to have us as parents.  No.  I who am blessed to be their mom.  Through these 3 amazing girls, I have learned my strengths, weaknesses, abilities, fears and how to truly trust and lean on God.  They have made me a better person.

There was a lot of heartache for my husband and I.  It was not an easy process for us.  But I would do it over again in a heartbeat.

I leave you with this.  There was a time when our first daughter was really sick.  I was angry at God.  Why would He bring us a child only to take her from us?  As I was going up the stairs to check on her, it was as if I heard Him say, “You dedicated her to Me.  She is Mine.  I am allowing you to raise her on earth.”  It was at that moment I truly dedicated any and all of our children to God.  They are not mine.  They are His.  And their lives are in His hands.  Always.

Eve-Marie – thank you SO much for sharing your story with me. With us. If you are waiting on God for an answer. For a baby – I am praying for you. For hope.

“If my heart is overwhelmed
and I cannot hear Your voice
I’ll hold on to what is true though I cannot see
If the storms of life they come
and the road ahead gets steep
I will lift these hands in faith I will believe”

Brian Johnson – Love Came Down

Google the lyrics – the rest of the song. Listen. And then listen again.

God –

Right now I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I cannot hear Your voice. While I cannot hear Your voice – I feel Your love. Which is strange for me. I sit here with tears streaming down my face and yet I know that You are holding me. It’s strange because while I’ve always KNOWN that to be true – I can count on one hand the times I have been overwhelmed with Your peace and love. And while right now I am sad – I feel Your peace. It’s strange to even type that.

You know my heart. You know my wants. You know my needs. You know every single thing about me. And then some. You know that I’ve been through my fair share of storms – that the road ahead has only been steep – and getting steeper. You know that when I get remotely comfortable and the road starts to plateau – that I get lazy in needing You. I start to rely on myself. And that isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I need to rely on You. Every moment. Not just in the valleys. Not just when I’m climbing and panting and out of breath. Which seems to be much more often than not. Because that’s when I think I need You – ONLY when I think I need you. And that sucks.

I can’t see anything in front of me. Which makes it hard to NOT live in the past. We can’t see what’s coming – so we mull on what’s been. It’s all we have to really see. But I have to hold on to what is true – ESPECIALLY because I cannot see it. I have to lift my hands. My life. In faith. And believe. Believe. Why is that so hard? Believe that You work all things out for my good.

All things. Everything. That’s every single second and moment. The beautiful and the tragic. This is a really hard concept for me to get through my head. Every tear. Every hurt. Every pain. Every word. Every hug. Every struggle. Every kiss. Every breath. You work it out for my good. It’s crazy is what it is. Crazy beautiful.

Tonight I sit here – just having put Fitzy to bed – in absolute wonderment. I’ve stopped crying. The 5th person in about 2 weeks just told me they were pregnant. Again. That word flips a switch for me.

I have a confession – although You being who You are – already know it.

I’m happier for people that are expecting when they’ve had trouble conceiving. Seriously. I’m awful. Horrible. Or maybe I should say that the pain is a little less of a stab in my heart. But I’m still awful.

Because it’s MY heart that everyone should be taking into consideration when they announce their pregnancy. Don’t people understand how hurtful it is to see their happiness all over my FACEBOOK feed. Don’t they know they should be more sensitive.

And yet – in each and every instance – all 5 of them – they seriously DID take my feelings into consideration. They let me know ahead of time that they were expecting. Gave me a heads up – cus they know how hard it is for me.

Constantly. Seriously. Overwhelmed.

We’ve been praying. Asking You to show us peace. And a specific answer. What should we do. Should we see a fertility specialist? After our 3rd miscarriage – my doctor highly recommended seeing a specialist before trying to get pregnant again. Should we permanently call it quits? Should we prevent for a year and then re-evaluate? Should we just be and hope for the best?

It’s all so overwhelming. I’ve asked a few people to pray for us. That we would hear Your voice clearly. That our fears and emotions wouldn’t shove their way in. That we hear what You want – and not what we want.

The thought of not having another baby makes me a little panicky. The thought of having another baby makes Jared a little panicky. The thought of having yet another miscarriage makes us both very panicky.

I prayed for a child. We prayed. I cried and begged. I became obsessed. And I refuse to be that person again – I didn’t enjoy her – and I’ll bet not many other people did either. You answered my prayer with a yes. I have a beautiful baby boy. I prayed for one. A baby. He is sleeping in his crib at this very moment. He is miraculous.

When we got pregnant with Fitzy – and we realized that he was indeed meant for our arms – not just our hearts – I knew that he might be our only. I never thought I would have trouble getting pregnant – but we did. We have trouble getting pregnant and staying pregnant. I savored every moment – knowing full well that it could very well be our only chance. I’ve already accepted this in my heart – well about 90% accepted it. There’s still a little part of me holding onto hope – as hard as that is for me.

So we’ve prayed. And asked people we love and trust to pray. Jared and I both felt strongly that we needed to relax for a year. At least. Last year was really REALLY hard on us. We lost two babies and almost our relationship. And almost our own sanity. It’s been hard. It’s been hard to hope. And the people we’ve asked to pray for us echoed the same – most of them.

I want to be happy. I want to enjoy this little family that You’ve given me. I want to focus on You. On my marriage. On this miracle that you’ve given us. The other day we were at lunch and someone said – how old will Fitzy be? I said – two. She said – well then – it’s about time you got started on another huh? I said – it’s not in our hands. When in reality I wanted to SCREAM – WE’VE TRIED. AND WE’VE LOST. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THIS IS FOR US? What I wouldn’t give to just be able to think about getting pregnant and having it happen (and stay) – but alas. That was not Your plan for us.

God – we pray that this year we will be comforted. This year we will feel peace. This year – You will make it clear if there is another baby in store for us. You will calm our hearts and our minds. You will replace our fears with faith. You will help us hold on to what is true – though we cannot see.

Amen.

In 6th grade – we were asked to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up. Teacher is written under my name in the yearbook. By senior year – it probably changed to Architect/Interior Designer – I wouldn’t know exactly without looking. I imagined myself rich and beautiful. Toting around 4 ridiculously cute babies. Two girls and two boys – in that order. Bailey Russell was my girl name. Christopher William was my boy name. I’d have to come up with two others – but maybe my tall dark and ridiculously handsome husband could help.

But looking back – I didn’t really envision my life in the future very much.

When I got to Philadelphia University – homesickness struck. Really bad. I wanted to quit. I packed up three times and called my parents and begged them to come get me. They didn’t. They told me I had to stay. I asked if I could transfer to Mansfield in the spring. Sure – but you are staying for the semester. I stuck it out. By the time the semester ended – I was happier and could have stayed. But I didn’t.

I transferred to Mansfield – cut my hair off a la Felicity – and started anew. That first spring semester was hard. I went home every weekend. I kept to myself and my studies. I lived in the library and in my room. I lived in a suite – but I can’t even tell you the names of the  girls I shared it with. I NEVER talked to them. My roommate moved out mid-semester and then it was just me. Of course there were boys (there are always boys) that I was interested in – and I daydreamed about what would actually happen if they asked me to go out with them. What being a couple would mean – most likely happiness and love and babies and happy ever after. Obviously.

Life didn’t play out like I planned. I was in college but I didn’t love it. I had no idea what I wanted to be. Other than married and pregnant. I picked Accounting because I had NO time left to choose a major unless I wanted to be a professional college student. I had NO intention of being an accountant. Just a mom. I could always find a job as a secretary.

But the boys I loved didn’t love me – or at least – were not IN love with me.

Then I met Jared. He chased me. Pursued me. But he wasn’t tall. He wasn’t dark. While Jared is my love and I find him attractive – he wasn’t the picture of handsome I was imagining myself marrying. He loved me. He loved me before I loved him. He knew right away that I would be the one – and I took a little more convincing. It sounds awful – and I don’t mean it to be. But he just wasn’t what I pictured my life to look like. I didn’t want to be taller than my husband – I didn’t wear heels often – but what if I wanted to. I’m already pretty pale – our babies would be really really white. And aren’t all the pictures of happiness of men with Val Kilmer’s (young Val Kilmer) jaw line? Shallow? Heck. Yes. So. Very. Much. But I’m serious – it scared me a little. Would we travel? Jared was an only child who didn’t really crave babies in his life – and I wanted 4. Lots of me talk in that paragraph. LOTS.

sidenote – the first month we were married – my mom called and asked how things were. I told her that I was terrified of marrying an only child. I had no idea how to deal with his selfishness. She said – and? I said – mom. I’m the most selfish person I’ve ever known. Ew.

I didn’t expect Jared to propose when he did. I was a horrible – rotten – spoiled little child the night he proposed. In reality he should have taken the ring and threw into the dark cold bushes and left me in that field. Alone. But he didn’t. He loved me. He asked me to share his life with him. He trusted me with his heart. A few weeks before he proposed – I called my mom and said – Jared and I have been dating almost a year – I don’t have a reason to break up with him – other than he doesn’t LOOK like what I thought I would marry. Seriously Danielle. Get over yourself. Anyway – my mom chuckled. She said – look at all these guys you’ve pined after – have any of them loved you? Have any of them treated you the way you deserve – which really wasn’t much by the way I was acting. If you give up on what you have with Jared – you might be missing out on your whole life.

Thanks mom.

She was right. So right. I loved this man – as short and pale and really truly handsome as he was. I was terrified of that. Or maybe I was terrified that he really did love me. That he wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t using me. He was after my heart. And I was a jerk.

Thankfully – he didn’t leave me. Thankfully – I got over myself – AM getting over myself.

I look back on who I am now – who I’ve become. And I’m happy. Like I wrote in my THANK YOU AUNT LORI blog – I still have LOTS to improve on – I am very thankful for where I am. I have a successful business that I built. I have a beautiful baby. We live in a house that I am learning to love – very VERY slowly. We have amazing parents. And Jared still keeps me in check. He pushes me to be better. To dream better. To expect better. To act better. He has encouraged my walk with God.

When I was making a list of all the things my husband needed to be – a Christian was in the top 3. But that is where it ended. I didn’t need him to talk to God. To trust God. Just have asked Jesus into his heart. And live it out every once in a while. I’m ashamedly serious.

Instead – I got a man who loves Jesus. A man who strives to live in that love. A man who prays with me and for me. A man who questions and answers. A man who strives to be better with me.

We are not rich – in the terms that you would think. But we are rich in forgiveness. In family. In friends. In love. In blessings. In God’s favor.

While I don’t know where I thought I would be at this moment in my life – I’m POSITIVE that where I am is much better than anywhere I could have ever dreamed.

I met Mary on FACEBOOK. She asked me to put her name on my ever-growing list of “wanting to be mommas” – they wanted another sweet one!

I was SO excited when she told me they were expecting! They live in NJ but she really wanted a session with me. Luckily – my sister lives not far from them!

LOOK AT HER!

Baby *H* – you are a sweet girl! I can’t wait to see you again soon!

Mary – I am SO glad we met! Thanks for opening up your home to us!