A Picture's Worth a Thousand Feelings

I love pictures.  I love looking through them after a day that was filled with fun.  I like to pour over old photos and how I can usually remember a crazy amount of detail about the moment.  I have my camera, or at the very least my phone at all time so I can capture what’s in front of me.  I love the stories photos tell, not necessarily through what you are seeing, because lord knows we rarely take pictures of the bad times, but the stories that are called to mind when you look at them.

I’m usually behind the camera.  I’m comfortable there.  But every once in a while I think it’s important to hand over the camera to a professional and be part of the memory.  Newborn photos, family pictures- those I have always been able to get on board with.  One trend that always made me uncomfortable though was maternity photo-shoots.  Not for me anyway.  I always felt overexposed just thinking about doing them.  Now, maybe this is because I’m not one of those people that loves being pregnant.  I tolerate it because the end game is well worth it, but I am by no means someone that “misses” it. 

Now when I was pregnant with Kennedy I took a profile shot of my belly every month but just for me, if only occasionally showing a family member.  I remember having a meltdown, just days before I had her, when my sister innocently posted one of the two of us- incredibly pregnant- on Facebook.  I was so swollen and felt deeply unattractive and so just about lost my mind.  She quickly took it down, if only to shut me up, and that was that. 

When I was pregnant with Jack, by the time I was starting to show, the bad news had already started mounting.  I was miserable.  I was always crying, makeup a mess, and in no mood to smile for anyone.  I can honestly say I have about four photos of me pregnant with him and then, just like that he was gone.  I hated myself for it.  I spent so much time wallowing and feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t stop to ever really appreciate any of the small moments. That’s not to say they weren’t there; there were many.  I was just oblivious to them at the time.

And so after weathering the last two years and then learning we were going to be having another baby, I vowed to myself that I would appreciate it this time.  That if I could be brave enough to carry another baby, and shoulder all of the emotion that comes with that each day, that I could suck it up and document it.  If for no other reason, I want to be able to explain to my son, that though it was with a broken and roughly patched together heart, that I was so incredibly thankful he was coming. 

So a few weeks back, I reached out to the wonderful photographer that took our family photos when it was just the three of us and that graciously edited all of our photos that were taken of Jack at CHOP at no cost, and asked her to be part of this too.  She right away said yes and I right away began to reconsider my decision.  I started coming up with a list of all of the things I wouldn’t do:  no bare belly, no Sean kissing said belly, the list just kept growing.  I did want to subtly pay homage to the fact that this is a “rainbow baby”; that we’d weathered a storm and something beautiful was waiting for us. 

I donned a dress, a flower crown of rainbow pastel colors, and brought my beautiful baby girl, handsome husband, and the little worn elephant that has come to symbolize my first baby boy and we set out to do something none of us were incredibly comfortable with: Kennedy is no smile-er , Sean couldn’t believe I wanted him to wear long sleeves, and I was about to touch my stomach in front of a camera.  I am so thankful we did.  The results were magic and I sobbed when I saw them.  They tell a story.  Maybe it’s only me that see’s it when I look at them but there’s a story there and it goes like this:

There was a family that was once so whole and so happy.  Then they lost someone; a boy that could never be replaced and that left a gaping hole in this family.  It near broke the mom; you can still see it in her smile-a smile that looks happy enough-but nothing like it ever used to.  The dad and the little girl, they fought so hard to make the mom happy again, and she thinks of that every time she touches them.  Years past and, somehow, they decided they would try to give the little girl a little hand to hold in the hand that didn’t clutch that little elephant still so tightly.  Despite how scared they were, they found themselves excited for who was to come.  And despite all of the tears and heartache, the family found themselves able to be happy once again.

I think she nailed it.  That’s exactly what I saw when I looked through each frame.

Fun Fact:  my great-grandmother made this maternity blouse for my great-aunt.  My mom and sister both wore it too. 

Shifting gears a for a quick minute: my Grammy came upstate for a weeklong visit.  She has gotten old, her Parkinson’s is taking more away from her than seems fair, and it breaks my heart sometimes.  But beneath all of that I still see the woman that I have loved so deeply for the last almost thirty-two years.  She still makes me laugh at the things she says, and makes these facial expressions that give you a glimpse at the kind of spitfire she is beneath her more proper exterior.  And the way Kennedy loves her; my God it gives me all the feels.  I watched my little girl take such care of this woman she loves just the way I do, helping her move from place to place, and holding her hand, and declaring that “Only me and Grammy are sitting in the special seats at the movie theater!” in the car and then “quietly” telling my mom that they are special seats for old people “but don’t tell Grammy she is old, that’s disrespectful.”  If we could keep her here with us forever we would and it makes me miss being home and close to her.  And I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that’s terrified that time is running out and she will be our next big heartbreak.  But for now, we drink up our time with her, knowing she’ll be back soon to meet our new little man that is coming very soon.

Pictures.  To me, they are worth more than a thousand words.  Sometimes there are no words.  They are worth a thousand feelings.  I have no doubt that when I am old and gray, I will continue to pour over these pictures I’ve taken, and upload, and dutifully back up on my hard drive each night and remember the moments that were captured.  And when I’m gone, hopefully they will tell a story for the ones I love. 

Bottling Summer

There is something about a summer vacation that is so magical you want to bottle up all of the feelings and sprinkle them as needed throughout the rest of the year.  There is a sense of relaxation of getting away from life for a bit and living solely for the week or two ahead of you.  The Doyles had that kind of week this past seven days on Martha’s Vineyard.  My best friend Jen and I had gone for a weekend three years ago for her bachelorette party.  I can remember taking an early morning walk and saying how great it would be to come back the next year together with our families.  By then I knew Sean and I were planning on our second baby, and I said I’d go with a little baby and Jen knew her and her new husband wanted to start a family and could possibly be expecting, but she said she’d go if she was pregnant.  It all sounded so perfect-we’d make a yearly thing out of it we’d said.  Well a lot of life happened and we hadn’t made it back there until last week and it looked a bit different than we’d planned on.  Jen and her husband Andrew were there with their first baby, Oliver, about to turn one, and Sean and I there with just Kennedy and expecting our third baby.  Things did not turn out as we’d thought but the result was still something I think we’d both pictured that morning. 

Sean and I had another vacation at the end of August booked- a beach house near Myrtle Beach with a bunch of my family and all of our kids.  We were trying to get pregnant for a while and we had said we’d just time it so it wouldn’t effect the trip- either we’d go with a new baby or we’d be expecting one in a few months.  Again, things did not turn out as we’d planned (you’d think I’d have learned by now).  A big, huge, gorgeous house, right on the beach.  Sean has been the one organizing it, making the plans, etc.  Then suddenly I’m pregnant and guess who can’t go?  Sean and Kennedy will still go down and spend a few days enjoying the place with everyone but this mama was benched and put on the no fly list.  So, I, being such a good sport, whined one night and said, “I need a vacation before this baby comes! We have to go somewhere I can go too!”  I talked to Jen, we made the plans, did our research and we booked a house back in February; scheduled our car on the ferry to cart all of the things that go with the children.  Then we waited.  As the year dragged on, and the stress of a baby after a loss piled on, I really couldn’t have waited to go much longer. 

We packed and planned, buying plenty of rainy day activities to keep Kennedy’s restless nature at bay should the weather not cooperate.  We had several jaunts down to Long Island the weekends prior for family parties, engagements and graduations, and so the suitcases had become a permanent fixture in our bedrooms.  After a quick strawberry pick and jam-fest with my mom, sister and nephews, we finally had arrived at our departure day.  Being that it was the weekend before the Fourth of July we were anticipating some pretty gruesome traffic, but the travel gods showed us some favor that day and we made it there in plenty of time.  We packed in Jen’s family’s belongings and made our way onto the ferry and, almost instantly, the stress melted away.  Well most of it anyway. 

The house was sweet.  Nothing fancy, but exactly what two families with kids needed for a week.  Well, aside from the fact that there was a lot of “natural light” in the bedrooms, which encouraged some very early wakeups from the kids every morning.  After that the days were filled with walks, beach trips (which even though requires a lot of effort on the parts of moms and dads are well worth it for the big smiles that were had), and a lot of delicious food. 

Our second or third day there we found ourselves at the beach one morning and after getting all set up another family came and set up near by.  I didn’t pay much attention until the kids came down by the water where I was parked in a chair watching Kennedy splash around and play.  I wasn’t really focused on anything in particular until something came into focus.  The little girl, probably around seven or eight that Kennedy was playing along side and then eventually with had Down syndrome.  She wasn’t very verbal, which was clear after Kennedy asked her what her name was and replied, “Huh??” every time she attempted to say, “Rebecca.”  I called Kennedy over and tried to simply explain in a way that wouldn’t illicit too many questions from my overly curious little girl that ‘she doesn’t have all of her words yet, so just have fun and play with her’.  And that’s what they did; they chased each other around, and shared Kennedy’s goggles, and splashed- not needing to say anything.  It was clear, they were speaking the same language to each other: Kid.  I sat there, unable to take my eyes off what was in front of me; a rare glimpse at what life could have looked like if Jack could have stayed with us.  I cried behind my sunglasses with a big smile on my face-all of the emotions coursing through my heart at once.  And when her mother came over to apologize in the event we were bothered, I said, “Oh no, she’s great, let her play!”

Oh and my husband decided to do a flip off the bridge there (because all the kids were doing it).  I wish he could have heard how impressed they were by him.  It didn't matter though-he was pretty impressed by himself.

The next day was an emotional one for me.  I was officially thirty weeks.  I had officially past the mark of where my pregnancy with Jack ended.  I delivered him at twenty-nine weeks and five days.  I had all the feels going on, but relief was again at the forefront.  My mind tried to again, for the umpteenth time, to remind my heart, “It’s different this time.  Everything is different.”  I gave myself the permission I needed to feel everything I was feeling and continue on with a gorgeous day in a little fishing village called Menemsha.  I snapped lots of pictures of Kennedy and Sean climbing around on the rocks as I reminded her to be careful at least fifty times and laughing to myself as I heard her say to Sean, thinking I was out of earshot, “Why is Mommy always worrying so much?”  As I listened to Sean give her what he thought, mistakenly, she would accept as an answer, I fell a little more in love with him.  I don’t know if it was the perfect background, or the way he talks to our little lady, or that seagull print shirt he was rocking, but I found myself thanking God that we made it through the other side of the storm together.

Jen and Andrew watched Kennedy for us later that night so we could grab a nice, quiet dinner in Edgartown together.  It was all perfect; from the views, to the fancied-up version of pigs-in-a-blanket that neither of us could resist, to the mocktail “Fassionola” the waitress brought over.

The rest of the week carried on with more beach and delicious lobster rolls than I could have asked for.  Kennedy gushed over baby Oliver all day, every day, so eager to help with everything except the dirty diapers; but who could blame her-he’s near-impossible to resist snuggling. 

Kennedy and Sean rode the oldest carousel in the United States in Oak Bluffs two separate days, grabbing the brass ring twice!  She thought she’d struck gold- but her genuine smiles were the real prize for me.

On the Fourth of July, we packed up a picnic dinner and made our way back to Edgartown in time to catch an adorable parade from the cutest little park and see the fireworks show down at the Harbor.  Kennedy loved everything about it and said more than ten times, no exaggeration, “I love it here, lets never leave!”

Of course, on our last full day, we went to the most perfect beach that ever was.  When we got there and asked the parking attendant which side we should go to with the kids he said, “Well, the pond is kid heaven so…”  he wasn’t kidding.  With the ocean on one side of us, separated only by some small dunes, was the gorgeous freshwater pond, clear, and shallow, and full of little fish Kennedy tried to catch with a bucket for the whole 3 hours we were there.  Next time, that’s the go–to spot for sure.

Like all good things, it had to come to and end, and as we packed, Kennedy voiced what the rest of us were feeling, “Can’t we just stay here forever?”  But we packed it up and made our way home, agreeing that this should become an annual trip.

And now to finish off the summer at home, waiting for another little boy that will undoubtedly change our lives.  Monday, we will pick up Kennedy’s first pair of glasses, which we learned she needs last week, and hopefully find out what school she will start in come September. 

If I could bottle all this up, folks, I would.