Tracy Anne Photography

I haven’t been on Pinterest in weeks.

I have no ‘woulda’ pins this week. None.

To be honest, I haven’t even thought of this blog in days.

In the past two weeks several aspects of life have just been down right ridiculously crazy. What would have been a promising adventure fell flat. But a sequence of events that left our friends staring at death in the face of their 19-month-old son, provided perspective.

Our little friend Gabe was admitted to the hospital with an asthma attack. Not surprising. It was the fourth time he’d been admitted from a dozen or so trips to the ER. However, ending up in the Pediatric ICU the next morning was certainly not something they expected. The breathing treatments just weren’t working.

And there they sat. For days. Waiting and praying for progress. Little Gabe would climb a few steps only to slide back, past where he started. He continued to get worse until I got a text on a Tuesday afternoon.

“My baby is dying.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Our good friends were told Gabe’s only chance of survival was a heart/lung by pass. An emergency surgery that would have to be done at the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics. A text a few minutes later said they were life-flighting him to Iowa City.

The next text: “Gabe likes it better in Iowa City.” The medical staff there had managed to stabilize him without the emergency surgery. The immediate danger was gone. But this little boy we’ve grown to love like a nephew is far from being out of the proverbial woods.

A ventilator breathes for him and gives him oxygen. Drugs have him sedated to rest his mind and paralyzed to rest his body. Right now it’s what his little body requires. The doctors have said he’s a head scratcher. They can’t figure out what’s wrong, making it hard to establish a course of action.

The plan is to wean him off the ventilator, oxygen, and meds. It’s a delicate balance of reducing the help he’s getting while maintaining his vitals. And it’s proving difficult. They reduce something and his vitals drop. So they try something else. He makes progress slowly only regress and lose ground.

It’s hard. Gabe is just a few weeks younger than our Owen. And since we spend so much time with their family, the two are best buddies. It hurts. To see him. To watch his parents go through this. To feel helpless. To wait.

So I pray. And if you’re so inclined, I’d ask you to do the same.

“When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.” Psalm 18-19

A fund has been established for Gabe’s family. Donations are accepted online. 

As I walked in the rain, pushing my son’s stroller, I realized things are only going to get harder. Don’t get me wrong, I knew this. But it was a very high level, almost abstract thought. For it to become a reality staring me in the face was startling.

My son was a good baby. He merely fussed when most babies would wail. He started sleeping through the night around 3 months. And yet it was still hard. Adjusting to the new responsibility, the sleep deprevation, and battling with competing roles of mother, wife, employee, housekeeper, photographer… was tough.

And then I find myself here. This strange place where my one and a half year old bullied me into taking him for a walk in the rain.

O looves being outside. L-O-V-E-S it. He’s outside at daycare every day the weather cooperates. When we get home he willingly comes inside for a minute. But if we linger too long he starts to get crabby. If say, it’s raining and we don’t go out at all, crabby turns into wailing and tears.

And I caved.

Two minutes into our walk I started doubting myself. I should have stuck to my guns. I should have said no. I’m the mom. I’m supposed to call the shots. Instead I let my toddler make the decision. My feet were walking, but my mind was running. There was no stopping now. I’d have to take him for a walk every night – rain or shine. I’d have to take him outside after supper.

Before I knew it I was caving to everything in my mind. One moment. One decision, had me doubting myself as a mom. Going for a walk in the rain led to Owen eating candy whenever he wanted. He was jumping on the bed and playing in the street. He was sticking his fingers in the fan. He was playing with our cell phones and the stove.

The rain started coming down harder. I called Ryan to come and get us. As I waited under a business awning I realized we’d have the same battle when we got home. Owen would still insist on going outside. He didn’t even wait until we got home. He bucked being put in his car seat despite being cold and wet.

On the five minute drive home, I realized I may give in once in awhile. But I will always have an opportunity to redeem myself. It’s a delicate balance of providing structure, discipline, earning respect, being flexible, and having fun. You make a decision and learn. Make a decision and learn. Rinse and repeat.

The key is not making the right decision the first time.
It’s in the learning.

*I’m fairly certain those who don’t have kids will think I’m being dramatic. I assure you I’m not. And if some day you have kids there will come a time when you ponder the impact on your child’s future based something seemingly menial. When that day comes call me. I’ll refer you to this post.

Our son was born a year and a half ago (19 months to be specific). I’ve taken thousands of photos in that time. Thousands. Not an exaggeration. If I’m being honest, some of them look the same. A sleeping infant is a sleeping infant, just in different jammies. But I take pictures anyway. It’s the only thing I have to make time stand still. That cliche would get an eye roll from an old journalism professor, but it’s true. So go on with your eye rolling if you must.

I can count on one hand the number of photos I have of Owen and me. It’s not that I don’t like getting my photo taken. I know some photographers who have a real phobia of it. But more often than not I’m the one who wants pictures, so I’m the one taking them. It’s just a fact of life.

We have two photos of the three of us together. Two. The first was obviously taken in the hospital after Owen was born. The only other family photo we have was taken at Christmas two years ago.

That’s it.

Recently, I glanced at the photos on the wall in our living room. Our wedding. Six years ago. Umm, probably time to update them.

So, I shot an email off to my friend Barbie Bishop of Brixby Photography. Barbie and I met while working at my last job. Not to mention our mutual passion for photography. We started within a couples weeks of each other, and we got laid off at the same time. That pretty much cemented our friendship. Fortunately our new positions have us working in the same part of town. So we find excuses to meet for lunch almost every week.

Barbie’s been working really hard the past couple of years. The girl is talented with a camera and a computer. Not to mention she’s fantastic with kids. She has a three year old daughter of her own, so she totally gets it. Owen’s in that really hard ‘stranger’ stage. Secretly I was afraid it would take him longer to warm up to her than it would to take a few pictures.

We met up at the Urbandale Public Library last Friday. Seconds after meeting her, Owen was trying to entice Barbie into chasing him. Insert sigh of relief. I tried to do what I want my families to do. Play. Interact. Pretend there isn’t a camera a lens in your face. So we played for a half an hour, and that was that. Piece of cake.

That night, Barbie posted a sneak peek.

I loved every single one of them. Check out the full gallery on Brixby Photography’s Facebook page, and “like” her page while you’re there!

Barbie, from the very depths of my heart, I thank you for making sure I’m included in the history of my little family. It means so much to me. As I’m sure you can understand.