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Saturday, February 9, 2013

Sweet as Pie

I know that this blog is only nominally a joint venture. I, Jesse, fit into the blogging world best as an occasional side picture or humorous anecdote. I try to know my place in an increasingly female dominated medium (sorry James, but Val has been out-doing you for a long time).

But sometimes a man needs to be heard. Or read.

I feel the need to put down in this blog that I have the world's best woman. That's right. Kathleen is a broad for the ages.




We got married in a haze. 
Dating forever (I was emotionally scatter-brained). 
Then not dating for months (5-8 months, depending on which of us is telling the story). 
Then engaged.
And three months later, married.
This was our first place, and we were so clueless.

This is my new bride helping out the Troll in Norway. Or Epcot.

 And this is Kathleen in our beautiful Rexburg with our stupid dog, Jud. 
We had amazing summers here. This is also around the time that we discovered our infertility. These were some of the greatest and hardest years.
We played in the Rockies. 
 And Kathleen got stuck on the jungle gym.
 And we did theater together. This is her playing the lead in Oklahoma!
She hated that dress.
We both learned how to deal with a medical condition that is common, but often goes unspoken. We were heartbroken. We got angry. And we both tried to learn how to replace something we never were given in the first place. 
 We graduated from college.
We went to Hawai'i.

After graduating, we moved from Rexburg to Oregon, and then from Oregon to Washington. We were in our third year of infertility,and the people around us began to wonder why we weren't starting a family. 

People gave advice. Lots of it. We were told to stop trying and it would happen. We smiled and nodded, and then in a pile with Jud and Molly on our bed, with what might be the closest thing we would have to kids, we cried and loved each other more than we thought possible. 

We held close and tried to figure out our future. I couldn't decide whether to be a doctor--something that made great financial sense, but my heart was only in 80%--or a teacher--something that made no financial sense, but something that I knew I was meant to do. Whatever the choices were, I was blessed with something to distract me from things for which I no longer had the strength to hope.

And all this time, Kathleen did what she could to find the place where she could be who she was meant to be. We watched a mom die, grateful to the end for the children she was blessed to find. I remember her hugging Kathleen and telling her that one of the things she regretted was that she never got to meet our kids. She told us to tell them that their Grandmother loved them, long before they were born. 


Kathleen and I never seemed to find a place to plant, so we went on to the next step. Infertility surgery. We were done with the anger, but the sadness became like a cold that we couldn't shake. With the surgery came hope, and it was great to hope again. And when it didn't work, we didn't dwell. We wiped our noses and got Master's degrees. In England. Cause that's what normal people do (when they are seeking distraction).

 So we went to England.
 and Italy,
 and Ireland,
and Scotland,
and France,
and Slovenia.

And we learned to love other people's kids.

 





We came home with best friends. And Kathleen amazed me more than ever. 

We decided that it was worth an all or nothing. So we went through In vitro. Kathleen, by necessity, bore the brunt of the procedures and pain. 

She was brave and beautiful.
I was mostly me.

And again, it didn't work.

On Christmas, when she surprised me with adoption papers, I knew that if I had a thousand years with just her, I would be the luckiest man on earth. And the oldest probably.

And then we tried one more time, knowing that it would be the last time. And Kathleen started getting four shots a day, in the muscle, delivered by me. And she rocked. She had the procedure, and we waited.

On my 29th birthday, she surprised me by throwing me out of a hot-air balloon.


And that night we found out we were pregnant.


(I am going to pay for this one.)

Kathleen was awesome through it all.

And when the little guy came six weeks early, she never missed a step.

 She is the bravest person I know. She was more than amazing. She was a mother. 
I waited for six years to see this face. 


And I can't wait to teach our son that his mother is what the good Lord intended a woman to be: loving, caring, beautiful and daring, brave and true.

Like I said, a broad for the ages.

 I don't even mind sharing her.

Especially with this guy!

12 comments:

  1. Thanks for making me cry dang it! You make such a beautiful family, I'm so grateful to know you guys! This has got to be the best post ever :-)

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  2. Stop making me cry.

    I love you guys so so so so much. And I'm so grateful little Danny made his way into your lives. I can't wait to meet him.

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  3. Jessepants you made me cry!!!! You both are so wonderful and have continued to be such an example to me of love and partnership! I hope you both know how wonderful you are and how blessed wee Danny is to have such amazing parents! I love all three of you and can't wait to see what adventures you will have next!

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  4. What a great post! So glad you all are parents!

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  5. Sweet indeed. Jesse, I knew you both before and after you met Kathleen. To describe you before, I might use the word incorrigible. Or maaaaaaaaaybe insufferable-lite. I remember meeting your for lunch during a visit to Rexburg. You sat down and I was like, what gives? Why is he so much more grounded? Sensible, funnier, real? And then I looked next to you at the girl you had just introduced me to. And I figured that she had made the difference.

    Congratulations to both of you on the life you have built.

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  6. Jesse, that was beautiful. I love you both.

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  7. That was beautiful. You two are amazing and I love you dearly even though it's been a few years. Daniel couldn't have asked for more deserving or incredible parents.

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  8. That was beautifully written. So touching and tender. I see that the best lesson that your dad taught you was the way that he loved Barb. You are a good pupil.

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  9. You are such an amazing vivid beautiful writer. I loved reading your story about your love

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  10. Still all true. She truly is one in a million

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  11. Darn it Jesse, I came to wish you a Happy Birthday and wondered into this! Landmines of Love. I will be eternally grateful that you guys had all of these experiences together.
    We may be missing the sunshiniest guest at the table, but we love you, and Danny, Gracie, James and Teddy, and Ruben. Family to the core. Even silly Watson.

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Hiya, thanks for checking in--we love hearing from you.