Bobby's Balloons

 "HELD ON TIGHTLY AS YOU HELD ONTO ME

AND I BUILT A HOME FOR YOU, FOR ME,   

UNTIL IT DISAPPEARED FROM ME FROM YOU."

the cinematic orchestra

If you've been around the past few you months, you know the intersecting stories of Bobby, Ryan and TinyBaby.  Three best friends pregnant at the same time with three buddies.  Two gone before their time.  Janet's Bobby was due on August 20 (which happens to be my birthday -- weirdly enough my Ryan passed away on the day Bobby was delivered.  Dates are eerie sometimes.)  On his would-be birthday, we gathered together to send balloons to heaven.  Watching them wag away made me want to jump on top and take a ride.  Go a little higher.  Be a little nearer.  We sniffled as two parents with an extra spot on their laps soberly celebrated their son.  Caleb played violin and the light, bright with glory, appeared over the hill.


































Working through grief isn't something to get over, like a bridge.  It's a thing to get through, like a river.  You're in it forever, but this ain't no lazy-pool with an inner tube (those days are gone).  The swim is a fight, especially when your toes can't reach the bottom and it's so cold and you're already beat up.  Grief can make your heart feel like a juicy orange, peeled of it's flesh, torn at it's soft spots, left in the desert sun to crackle and dry up.  You can become crispy and weak, like burned food -- smoking in a demonstrative attempt to breathe.

But Keep Going sneaks up on you, and gives you some flippers.  It can't pull you out -- not yet, someday -- but it can help.  The golden cobblestone of heaven can be paved above your head, your very own eyeballs can witness a rose-colored world (without glasses) and the majesty can almost seem as cozy as a soft old blanket on the couch.  Hope has a way of finding us, and reminding "You are not forgotten.  Look, I'm writing it across the whole sky tonight.  I love you."





It was as if we were getting a message from my Mama Bear that the blue and orange balloons had made it safe and sound, just as we will someday too.


I love you Janet, Seth, Audrey, Edith and Bobby Boy.  Each and every one.

Mamas + Cubs | Portraits

inspired by huffington post's recent publishing of ken heyman's photographs of mothers.  an idea like this had been in my brain-idea-bin for a while, and this finally gave me the motivation to follow through with it.

Dear mama and mama-figures (whoever you may be),

Thank you for your hips...

... your cheeks,

... your forearms and the crook above your elbow.

Thank you for your time,

... (your night-time

... and your day-time) -- for a lifetime.

Thank you for monster socks,

for lots of yummy yogurt because it's my favorite and makes me nice and chubby,

... and for your patience.

Thank you for loving me even more now than you did then...


Thank you for calm,

and for your exhausted,

for your proud,

and for all that you've memorized; for all only you know.

Thank you for confidence,

thank you for fluffy towels,

and thank you for being so brave.

Thank you for sharing your house with me,

...your humor with me,

...your body with me.

Thank you for helping me learn life basics,

keeping me safe,

and also clean (the best you can).


You are comfort.
You are the last of the day.

You are where I say good-bye.

You are a queen without a crown.

You are reinforcement, "You can do it!," and proof that: your joy is my joy.

You make me feel like I am the apple of your eye.

You are "I will never let you go"...

... and a shoulder to rest on.

All the "up-up!"s, "hold you?"s, "one more story?"...

... and attention to little and long ideas don't go forgotten.  Maybe unnoticed, but never forgotten.

You are beauty. (And a total weirdo)

You are strong.  (And you cry the best sadness.)

You are hope.  (Even when I'm not with you.)
Thank you for every wrinkle, ache, heartburn, cramp, nap, car ride, prenatal vitamin, hug, lunch, tear, vote of confidence, high-five, eye-contact, long night, laugh, iPhone picture, cheer from the stand, Christmas gift, stretch mark, sip of water after bedtime, coupon-cut, back rub, conversation and moment.

With as much heart as you've given me,
Your cub.


--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- to book your own i'm kristen family session,  especially in the maryland/virginia/dc, new york/boston, or oklahoma to dallas areas E-MAIL ME HERE (i'll also be traveling around southern california + the lake tahoe/nevada areas in coming months.)

Rowdy on The Rio Carousel | Personal

“We walked always in beauty, it seemed to me. 

We walked and looked about, or stood and looked. 

Sometimes, less often, we would sit down. 

The place spoke for us and was a kind of speech. 

We spoke to each other in the things we saw.”

 wendell berry | jayber crow

He saw it, for the very first time, on its inaugural day.  Last year we walked the local man-made "lake," passing the shops and restaurants of the outdoor mall.  Our baby was due in days, we walked and walked.  The year before we brought our spreadsheets and wedding folders to review over steak fajitas, and when we were done we walked and walked.  And the year before?  The night after our first kiss we had sandwiches at Corner Bakery, saw The Help at the theater, and walked and walked.  Nearly sixty years ago, my grandparents walked and walked a new park in their area -- a park named Disneyland.  "The story of my life..."  Rowdy's face, not just jaw but his while face, dropped when he saw the carousel for the first time.  He marched it's direction at a swarthy speed (only distracted by a balloon tower.)  He's a focused fellow and doesn't give away smiles freely, but one of his surest signs of happiness is when he's still.  He clasped the metal pole, sat upright, "oooooo"-ed.  Cogsworth and Lumiere and Mrs. Potts welcomed him as their guest through the speakers.  He waved good-bye when the ride was done.  He danced to the violins, eagerly introduced himself to new friends, he scaled the play-park, but also sat still on the steps.   If we could have one night to walk around heaven together, it must be something like last Saturday night.



























Ps. If you're in the Montgomery County area, go ride the new Washingtonian Rio Carousel!

Family Room Sessions for Mama Bear

"Action saves lives, awareness does not."

Erin Santos in the Huffington Post

The last couple of weeks, in particular, mom has spent a lot of time in our family room.  A typical day for her would be sleeping in the morning for as long as she can (it still riddles me how a body can be tired and yet not able to sleep.  Sleep is a gift.)  She'll come down to the couch and rest there until it's time for a soccer game.  She watches from the car and honks when her baby scores or does something impressive.  We take her home for dinner and more rest.  Most of the day I get to be with her and it's precious.  We sometimes run little errands together.  We watch the kitchen come closer and closer to completion.  We go through the late morning talk show line up -- Rachael Ray and Access Hollywood, The View and The Chew, and Ellen.  She naps to worship music on iTunes radio.  We let Rowdy do tricks for us and we respond adoringly.  And we talk.  We've talked about ten years ago when her cancer first popped up.  It's actually hard to think about.  She found a lump and went to get it checked right away.  She was told "it was nothing."  If I could go back in time... goodness.  Though her own mother had died from breast cancer, and was first diagnosed with it in her forties, and cancer is in her family history, this particular doctor's office announced "It was nothing" and that was that.  One year, and one baby later, my mom went back.  It was still there and she wanted another opinion.

Lo and behold it was a cancerous lump and, shocker!, it had spread into her lymph nodes during the year.  It's hard to think about how different our lives would be if one person had done their job thoroughly.  If it hadn't been able to spread and hideaway inside her.  (Trust us, we know. We know her days are numbered and we know God is in control of her life and our lives.  We know nothing happens apart from Him -- whatever that means exactly.  And most of all we know that He is the One who makes all things good.  Even errors on the job ten years ago.  Still sucks.) 

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  This post was supposed to kick off the month, not end it. But here I am, in October, with a request and a plan.  "Awareness" is an iffy word and idea.  Action, like Ms. Santos says, "saves lives."  Take the knowledge and do something with it.  Check yourself, and get mammograms, and if you feel something follow up on it.  If you are told "It's nothing." but you have a gut feeling it is something, get a second opinion right away.  Search it out until you are satisfied. Get it removed anyway, just in case.  Pay attention.  

Prevention, prevention, prevention.  Act on prevention.  Know what prevention means, and take the time to be sure.  Mixing all these things together (Breast Cancer Awareness Month, family room time, emphasis on prevention) I'm running a Family Room Photo Session for you and your lovies and bunnies.  

Here are the details: 

WHEN | november ninth + sixteenth
WHAT | a photoshoot in your family room of your family being a family.
HOW MUCH | $500 for an hour session and 40 edited digital files.
WHY | 50% of the session fee will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation,
(these lovely people are focused on prevention and early detection.)

I have four slots available -- the morning of November ninth, and the afternoon of November ninth, the morning of November sixteenth, and the afternoon of November sixteenth.  If you are interested in a session please e-mail me at kristen leigh photography at gmail dot com with the slot you'd like to fill.

Like I mentioned about, 50% of these family sessions will be donated in my mother's honor and name.  And, of course, anyone is welcome and encouraged to donate whatever you can.  If someone's "ten years from now" can be a less cancerous one because of our mama's story, I'd be a blessed daughter.

Perhaps the best "action" that can be taken is to love your family "so long as it is today."

From our family room couch,

Kristen + Mama B

Mama's Birthday | Personal

i had the best day with you,
today.
taylor swift - best day

We had a lovely time with the family for mama's birthday.  While Caleb and I were dating we visited the farm-to-table restaurant Grandale Farm.  We couldn't shut up about the views and the chicken-avocado-cilantro soup.  For years now my mom has wanted to visit and eat there too -- a 55th Birthday Lunch is the perfect excuse!  The last week or so has been especially hard for her.  She's almost finished with her ten days of brain radiation, but goodness, it's been exhausting and intense.  We were all hoping she'd have a bit of a break, but it really hasn't been :-/  (If you'd like to follow the blog I'm doing Mama Bear Updates on, go here.)  It was actually especially sweet to be together for her birthday in the middle of all the yuck.  The food was perfect (if you ever go, get the pig mac-and-cheese) and we went to an antique store that is closing down after 40 years (everything is 40% off!) to find mom some pretty blue + white dishes and treats for her new kitchen.  We laughed and really had fun and got along.  Doesn't get better than that :) (We missed you, Timmy!)

"Do not despise the day of small things." Zechariah 4:10