A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer...

Someday I will write about something that doesn’t make me cry. I want to look back and remember yellow leaves in Cayden’s hair, Piper raking too many sticks in the leaf pile, and Judah’s forced school picture smile. I want to remember when I put up the tripod and set the timer and everyone smiled on the first click. I want to remember when we took pictures with the little pink shoes before we knew they might never be worn by baby sister. I want to remember there is still good. I want my children to see it’s ok to smile and laugh even when we know something devastating is going to happen. Seven. I’ve had seven pregnancies. My first pregnancy miscarried in March 2010 and this baby inside of me is due March 2021. One week ago, I grabbed my camera and tripod, leaving the house with the promise that I would bring back video of baby sister for the kids to see. In a darkened radiology room, I fumbled to extend the legs of my tripod and figure out the best screen to record. Ultrasoun

In the spring of 2000, everyone was wiping their brows after the Y2K scare, the last new Peanuts cartoon was published, and the first season of Survivor kicked off on CBS. Bryan and I were finishing up our freshman year at Sprague High School and our church youth group was preparing to go on a mission trip to Mexico that summer. While Bryan and I were far from being a couple at the time, we both decided to go on this trip. We went mainly because our friends were going and it sounded exciting to travel outside of the country without our parents. A trip that started as a “fun thing to do,” ended up shaping us in much bigger ways.  For the first time, I experienced poverty.  I was astounded at the houses made of plastic and plywood, bursting with smiling children. It was a wonder to me how they could be so happy yet have so little.  Bryan worked to clean up a church which was an old storefront where they set up old folding chairs to worship God together.  I learned how to strai