making family | boise photographer

where do i start with this family?

maybe the end.

as we were wrapping up our FANTASTIC session together, i started talking to this family’s mom about their “story.” specifically, the story about how they came to adopt their beautiful one year old twin babies. i watched kim’s face light up as she told me how the twins came earlier than expected, and they were only given a short weekend’s notice that they needed to make the drive to norther idaho to pick up their new little babies. there we were at the depot. while kim’s husband’s luke likely fought the urge to honk from the car, kim elaborated on the details. i tried to hide my tears.

oh what, you think i’m always a big baby? well, i’ll have you know, that i’m actually impressingly cold hearted. but there is something magic and compelling about adoption stories that acts like a hot blowdryer on my ice cube heart.

furthermore, when i asked kim if i could share a little bit of the twins’ story on the blog, she responded by sending me the story of their oldest daughter, sara. both stories are inspiring, but i’m opting to share sara’s in depth, as her mom has told it so well… look for it in itallics after the pictures. =)

thanks kim and luke for making this session such a pleasure. you put me right at ease, which really is supposed to be my job. hope you love these pictures as much as i do.

you know when people say, “you’ve got soul.” ? well, this is what they mean.

when diana says to squish our heads together, it makes us laugh.

we may be twins, and we may both have amazing eyes. yet, they are not IDENTICAL blue eyes.

silly in the sun.

more of it.

hahahahahaha…..

but then he got me back by looking so “james bond.”

of course, then kim gave him some serious competition.

then they decided they both wanted to be in focus.

the sugar has kicked in.

stick around for this beautiful girl’s story below (as told by her mother)…

In February 2006, we adopted our daughter, Sarah Alene. Sarah is 5 years old now and the joy of our life. Sarah came to be ours forever in the most unique of ways. I met Sarah when she was approximately 7 weeks old in a Pediatric Intensive Care Unit in California. I was assigned to her as a nurse on the day that changed our lives.

After conversations with her case manager and social worker, I offered to bring home Sarah from the hospital. News that my husband was very surprised to hear when I called him on my first break. “Honey that’s not funny that you are bringing home a baby,” I think was his first reaction to the news. News that he was able to comprehend after I told him about Sarah’s little life and the reason that I wanted to bring her home. Her social history was grim at best and her medical prognosis even worse. When her adoptive parents heard that she was diagnosed with DiGeorge Syndrome, they opted to halt all adoption proceedings, which left Sarah with no one to care for her except for the medical professionals in the hospital.

The original intent of discharge was hospice care and we applied for our foster license with this knowledge. The weekend before she was to be discharged, Sarah became gravely ill with cardiogenic shock. The next few days were grimmer than before. She was in need of an emergent heart surgery. One that would undoubtedly in all clinicians minds be the last step for Sarah. Her cardiac surgeon warned us time and time again that her chances were slim and that we should be prepared for the worst. Our little girl, as we thought of her by then, would never be able to enjoy the wonders of life outside of the hospital.

She wouldn’t know the luxury of sink baths, puppy kisses, ride in a swing or most importantly, love that would be hers for as long as she was “ours.” She would only know pain and tears. She would only know of days and nights on her back. She would only know the short hours that we spent with her in the hospital.

Sarah proved to all that she was stronger than ever expected. She seemed to have a glow about her when she came back from surgery that fateful day. She advanced through the postoperative course faster than anyone thought possible. Some say that she did so because her heart was stronger and functioned better. We are convinced though that she knew she was loved and would be for years to come.

Everyday we see that spirit. She is full of love and joy. She experiences the world in the smallest amounts but lives larger than life with all of her experiences. She finds joy in watching her puppy run through the house, belly laughs at the Count on Sesame Street and never tires taking papers out of Grandpa’s shirt pockets.