I have found my purpose, and here we go!

So- I took a peek.  I haven't blogged in two and a half years.  There is a good reason.  I've been busy being Mom.  Not a working mom, not a mom who wanted to work to feel as if I had something of 'my own'.  I just wanted to be a mom.  A present and intentional mom.  A mom who could experience each morning before school, after school, making snacks before the kids got home, homeroom mom, homemade birthday invitations kind of mom.  I wanted to be there the first time they whistled, or read the big words in their books alone.  Two and a half years ago, I was fortunate enough to be a stay at home mom, but, I was not present.  I was not intentional.  And I feel as if I missed some really special days.  Days of going to the park, flying kites, building forts in the living room, going to the zoo, taking more bike rides, swimming, camping, exploring, making messes.  I was a mess.  I was asleep most of the time.  If I was awake, I was crying, or angry, or even both.  You see, I lost twins.  I had two beautiful babies already, so I knew EXACTLY what it meant the day we were to give the monogrammed shirts exclaiming "I'm a big brother again!" and "I'm a big sister!" to my babies, who had been praying every single night for God to put a baby in Mommy's tummy.  It meant more laughter, more noise, and mess and chaos, more years without sleep, and more love than one can imagine.  So, at 12 weeks, holding hands, cold gel on my already growing belly, we saw the big screen.  The very big screen with the most beautiful babies.  Just no heartbeats.  Seriously, I don't remember much, other than being in complete denial.  Nope, they had to be just fine.  I'd been throwing up all day so certainly you can't have morning sickness all day long if you aren't pregnant.  I felt pregnant.  My stomach looked pregnant.  We had monogrammed T-shirts.  So, I went home.  "They" say there are three steps to grieving a miscarriage.  1. Shock/Denial   2. Anger/Guilt/Depression  and 3. Acceptance.
Well, the first was easy.  Of course I was in shock and denial.  I still felt pregnant.   It wasn't until a couple of weeks later when my fever was 103 and my body was just not going to labor and do its' thing naturally, that I went in for a dreaded D & C.  So, with that over, step 2 set in.  Anger is an understatement.  I was SO mad.  So mad at every pregnant woman I crossed paths with.  Angry at God for not allowing me to carry those babies that we made and love them and raise them.  Angry for not having a larger family.  Jealousy.  The kind that drives one mad.  So, staying at home and not dealing with anyone felt right.  I had told very few people I was pregnant to begin with.   Why?  Why did I not celebrate every single second of having the privilege of carrying these miracles inside me?  I had with my other two and they turned out PERFECT!  Was it my fault?  So, guilt set in.  And depression.  That kind of deep depression that leaves you numb and asleep.  That is not me.  I am not absent.  And I missed some time, a lot of time, away from the two most precious babies on earth ~ the ones I had and the ones who needed me ~ sleeping, crying, and being angry.
Add trophoblastic disease and a very rare and crazy potential for developing a pregnancy related cancer called choriocarcinoma, a weekly blood test to see if my HcG levels would EVER go down (it took a while!) and specialists telling me that I would have to wait at least a year before I'd even potentially be able to try again, all the while reminding me that my advanced maternal age was not in my favor.  Thank you for the reminder that I'm old.  It's always nice to kick someone while they are down.
Last month, I visited the old OB for the fun, annual visit.  In the office, they had these little replicas of babies - fetuses, they call them.  12 weeks, 16 weeks, 20 weeks, etc.  I tried so hard, but couldn't help but pick up the 12 week one.  It has been two and a half years, but that could have been mine.  Times two.  So perfect. So very perfect.  A big head, a body, ears, hands.  I held it and took a picture.  The only thing I could do.  It seemed wrong, but I needed that.  Time alone with just this plastic, replica baby.

I suppose that leaves #3.  Acceptance.  I can say with certainty that acceptance is not something I am sure I'll ever actually reach.  I'm not even really sure I want to be in that place.  I don't want to forget the joy and love I felt in those 12 weeks for these two lives I had so much hope for. I used to think everything happens for a reason.  I can't say I believe that anymore.  But, things do happen.  Painful things.  Situations and heartache that will never make sense.  How we react to those things ~ that is something I've learned to be in control of.  I want to be present. Intentional.  Loving.  Soaking up every single second with the children I do have.  Their achievements.  Their silliness.  Their innocence. Their unconditional love.  The unconditional love I have for them.  The joy they bring me.
Two weeks after I let my twins leave my body, I had a newborn shoot that I had scheduled for a while.  It was an absolute nightmare.  And after I got home, I put up my camera, went to sleep on the couch, and decided that photography could not bring me joy for a while.  I could not bring joy to the art, to the lives I was allowed to be part of, and I took a break.  A long one.  Two and a half years.  But, I've still photographed my children.  Their milestones.  Their silly faces, snuggling each other, playing ball, dance recitals, firsts.  We moved to a new state.  I've engaged.  We've played.  We've laughed.  And I've embraced being their Mommy!  NOTHING will ever be better than knowing I made a choice to be present, supportive, and intentional in their little lives.  They are my heroes.  They got me up when I thought I could not, and they never even had a clue.  I'm happy.  I'm content. I'm so proud of my family.
I'm READY!
We are moving again.  That is our life as a military family.  And that is ok. I love my husband.  I'm proud of him and what he does for our family.  He is such a great father, soldier, and provider.  Our next adventure leads us to Italy.  I can't wait to get there, get out my camera, and start shooting.  It's time.  It feels right.  I'm not stuffy.  I love candid, real moments, because if we aren't careful, those are the times we are going to miss!  Play, love, laugh.   I can't wait to give you that moment in time, to keep forever!  I know without a doubt, that is my purpose!  xoxo Windy Bonser