Minneapolis: we went, and I was tired.

I got to take in a new city last weekend. Our last travel wedding of 2012 was to Minneapolis. 

This was also our last pre-baby travel wedding. We really loved traveling for work in 2011. It's awesome to get to explore a new city while not losing money on flights and hotels and restaurants and such. Plus we had each other, so the experience was complete. This year, though, we've become more attached to and comfortable in our own home and each time we left to go travel, we were really happy to return home and sleep in our own bed and make our own food and work in our own office. There's no telling when I'll be traveling for work again, so this was the last hoorah for me for a while. I thought I would be sad to experience this for the last time...but instead I was just really tired.

Tired eyes when our plane landed in Minneap. We went straight to the hotel and thankfully my cranky, complainy body let me sleep for a solid few hours so I could start the trip off feeling strong. 

Our blessed clients put us up in the same hotel they picked out for their out-of-town family, which is rare and sweet and means so much. I have nothing but raving reviews for the Crowne Plaza Minneapolis West.  

So we set out, and as soon as I saw the Minnepolis skyline, I said: "Oh, it's so cute!". Then I realized how much Chicago is changing me. I guess Kilimanjaro looks cute and little to someone who lives at the base of Everest. Or something. Anyway, Minneapolis is lovely and easily navigated. It reminded me a lot of Kansas City, my darling town, so therefore I liked it. 

One of Tim's best friends, Tom, lives in Minneapolis with his wife, Val. They took us out to dinner and I learned that Minnesotans are very serious about their cheese and their beer. Good for them, I say. I like a small city that makes a fine product out of their own resources. They're also serious about their coffee, and oh how I wish Chicago were more serious about her coffee. 

We finished the evening at Spyhouse Coffee and I was loving my life. The only thing that would have made it better was if I could have drank as deeply as I wanted from the wealth of this place's La Marzocco espresso spouts...but since I wanted to both sleep and not have heartburn all night, I had to settle for a lame hot chocolate and sneak little sips of Tim's espresso. Pregnancy ruins everything.  

Saturday's wedding was awesome. Cool couple, canine ringbearer, tender families, long awaited dreams come true. Stuff like that. We worked hard and made new friends and went back to the hotel with that good tired feeling. Then Tim fell asleep and I didn't.

I couldn't. It's terrible, and also very typical of me right now, to be the most tired I've ever been but completely unable to sleep. It's the baby pushing up on my lungs and sore joints and racing mind that sabotages my rest. I spent most of the night staring enviously at Tim's peaceful slumber. Finally the morning came. 

We had a quick morning flight back to Chicago, and when the plane landed my exhaustion took over. I had made the trip, done the work, and when I was so close to being home in my own bed, I ran out of energy and strength to hold it together. I think it was the thought of navigating the airport crowds that did me in. Pregnancy cross-wired my tired feelings with my sad feelings, and the tears started flowing apart from my will to hold them back. "Sweetie...you know it's going to be ok..." 

I had to laugh. Of course it was. We were a mere 20 minutes from home. Poor Tim. I did get home and I did get good rest eventually (although it took a few nights). 

Anyways, it was a good trip. And it was good to feel the pull to stay put for a while. I don't want these last months of pregnancy to be full of emotional goodbyes to my former life. Adventure is just going to take on a new form, that's all. 

Tablife busynesses

September is busy for the Tabs, you guys. We have a record number of weddings on our roster, so we've been spending our every weekday waking hour mesmerized by computer screens and our weekends beholding lots of pretty weddings. We shot an especially sweet one last Saturday. 

Sometimes we'll zone out of the computer glare long enough to realize that it's been a few days since we stepped outside and we need some air. 

I'm learning, slowly, that to step outside my front door while living in Chicago is to step into a swirl of controversial political activity. Whether it's our governor being thrown in jail or our mayor making the whole city angry or our cops getting convicted for murder or our teachers going on strike or the gangs killing each other, or, or...it just never ends. I keep waiting for a peaceful week in this city and I haven't seen one yet. The rhythm and the wind don't stop. I'm trying to get used to this part.

And yet, for all her faults and wounds, Chicago still dazzles me. She is adored by her cantankerous people. She's too pretty to break up with. 

So. We have the constant motion of our work and the restless energy of our city to keep up with, which is more than enough to think about...and then there's me and my condition. Me and my baby. Already changing our lives in every way. 

I finally started keeping a health journal so I can keep track of the varied array of symptoms and side effects I have every day, because the changes are so close and quick that Tim and I both live in a constant state of confusion over what's happening and how to fix me. Nausea, headaches, exhaustion together with insomnia, extreme hunger, sore joints, heartburn, forgetfulness, swollen blood vessels, frayed emotions. It's all there each day and, praise God, it's all normal. Nothing about it is predictable, and nothing is out of the ordinary at the same time. It is hard, but it is beautiful and good at the same time. Even as I sit here quietly right now, my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it and feel the drum beating throughout my whole body. It has more work to do than normal. The baby bounces and turns and kicks my belly visibly out in dramatic motions that shake my shirt. I pass the mirror on my way into the shower and am shocked to see bright blue lines tracing highways under my skin, expertly navigating an extra 50% of my normal blood supply through me and to the baby. It's all incredible, and I have never been more thankful for my health or positively sure that my body is fearfully and wonderfully made, and a divine creator's power alone is effortlessly building another body deep inside mine and this new person already has a soul and life purpose for the outside world. 

I'm sure of that, and I'm sure of how bad my feet hurt.

Tim has been an incredible source of strength for me. I am not carrying this baby alone, ever. The man is a saint. He rubs my feet and washes endless dishes and when I'm restlessly trying to get comfortable next to him at 4am he reaches his hand over and says: "you've had a hard night, babe." I never have to fight for justification.

And for goodness sake, he goes and gets me things. Is it not the most annoying thing in the world when someone asks you to go get them something? A glass of water from the kitchen? The laundry from the dryer (which is down 4 flights of steps in the basement of our building)? Dinner from the takeout place? A very specific piece of clothing from the basket of clean laundry that he washed and I have yet to fold? Can you just get that for me, babe? He always says yes, letting me save my energy for the important things. He's amazing.

And whenever I have the energy, I try really hard to be amazing back to him. I was domestic in the kitchen and productive in the office today. It felt really good. Life is good. 

bumpdate: 24 weeks and showing

I got called out for the first time two weeks ago. I walked into the Trump tower to start shooting a bride getting ready for her wedding, and a very smiley bellhop had to give me access to the elevators. While we were waiting in awkward silence for the next available lift, he said "are you expecting eh bebi?" in a darling Eastern European accent. It was the first time a stranger has brought up my pregnancy and I was surprised. 

"Yes I am", I said.
"Oh (smile smile) congratulations".
"Thank you!"

And then I stepped into the elevator and when the doors closed, took a look at myself and realized that it really was obvious, even under my flowy black dress.

I really relished the 22 weeks I had of pregnancy anonymity before this. I had a secret and no one knew. Even when I had the awkward pudge that looked to be perhaps a pregnancy and perhaps not, it didn't bother me because I knew what was happening with my body. I could show up to a 12-hour wedding with not a hint of weakness and smile through exhaustion and nausea and hide my face behind my camera and get no questions about how I was feeling, which, in a professional setting, I always tend to believe actually means "are you sure you can handle this?".

It's not a very big deal, I'm just aware that I've jumped categories in the world from "lady" to "pregnant lady". I try not to feel judgement as I step outside of Starbucks with my hot drink and notice a few older women whose eyes are on my belly. "It's decaf, I promise!", I want to tell them, then wonder why I care.

In the last two weeks since the bellhop started it all, I've gotten lots of (positive) comments from those who know me about my changing shape. I think most people feel an obligation to voice the fact that they notice the change, lest it seem like they don't care. If I were to be completely honest, this part just makes me uncomfortable and squirmy. I feel exposed. BUT-- I know that people are kind and happy for us. Their hearts get warm at the thought of us having a baby and they're just trying to express that, however it happens to come out of their mouths. So when my instinct is to bristle at the slightest mention of my girth, I try to resist and instead thank them genuinely. The only comment I've really liked came from a woman who saw me for the first time in a while and said: "Oh Bethany! You look so healthy!". I really loved hearing that.

So far no one (outside of family) has reached out and touched my belly without invitation. I'm not sure what I'll do when that happens. I just don't like the thought of it at all.

61 years

I love this picture that Tim took of my grandparents this summer. Sitting together, waiting together. 

Doris and Bill Brown, married 61 years. 

on the job. together.

I never thought I'd be the type of person who could work with my spouse. When Tim first broached the idea of me joining him in his business, the idea was intimidating. I told him I wouldn't do it.

There were lots of factors playing into the situation. One of us had to move to be near the other, and we decided together that it would be in the eventual best interest of both of us for him to not give up or displace his business (we knew we were probably getting married). That meant I had to quit my job and move to Chicago. Coincidentally, all this happened during his biggest year yet in his wedding photography business, and he needed help. All signs pointed toward me working with him, but I was resistant.

In the world of wedding photography, it's pretty common for couples to work together. But I wasn't in that world yet. It wasn't the idea of working with him that scared me, it was the idea of working for him. I loved boundaries and independence and earning my own wage and dropping it in my own bank account.  I also loved catching my own mistakes early and fixing them before anyone else saw my error. I knew I would have a lot to learn and I would be putting myself on really shaky ground by having my boyfriend be my boss and letting him teach me a new trade and give me a paycheck. It didn't sound safe. 

As we made plans for my move, I started applying for lots of jobs. Looking back, I was ultimately acting on distrust for Tim and pride in myself and fear of failure as a photographer. I wasn't getting any job offers, and Tim was patient and intent on proving himself to be trustworthy. He kept letting me know that he wanted me to be happy in whatever job I chose to do, but his offer stood open in case I wanted to work with him.

Then he asked me to marry him. There's a lot packed into that question. It's really a question of many questions, a whole book of questions, and one of them is: "will you trust me to take care of you?". Also; "will you allow me to provide for you?". And I said yes to him, so some strongholds that I needed to survive being single had to fall away. I agreed to work with him.

So, Tim works from home five days a week. This I knew. This meant that we would be together all the time. Forty plus hours per week of time together spent on work alone, not to mention free time and wedding planning time and dating-each-other time. We'd never even lived in the same city at that point. It was going to be a steep transition, and I was afraid of conflict. But we moved forward. I cried tears of loss as we drove away from Kansas City with my life packed in my car, and cheered for the joy of a new beginning when we saw the Chicago skyline. The next day, we started working together.

He handed over client communications to me first, and I mean really handed it over and let me do it all without looking over my shoulder. For a girl who majored in Interpersonal and Public Communications, and who was also planning her own wedding, I couldn't have asked for a more well-suited job than emailing with brides to put them at ease about our part of their wedding day. I loved the work, Tim had hated that part, and suddenly he had about 20 more hours per week to work on editing pictures. I could see the immediate difference I was making in improving his workflow and stress level, and I loved it.

And then he put his cameras in my hands. I didn't even know how to use them (I had plenty of experience being an amateur with my own DSLR, but none with his professional grade equipment) but the clients were only paying for Tim's services, so whatever I added to their wedding pictures was gravy and it was a low-pressure environment to learn. It was kind of like getting thrown in the deep end of the pool with a couple of arm floaties. On our way to our second wedding together, Tim told me that he would usually get that pitted feeling in his stomach right before every wedding, but with me by his side he wasn't nervous anymore. I started to realize that he wasn't measuring the support I brought to him from a purely monetary perspective like I was.

I shot twenty weddings with him that first season, all for free to the clients so I could learn all that I needed before we added my second-shooting services to his new contracts. I learned so much during that time and gained a whole new confidence in myself as a worker in a new field. I started calling myself a photographer. This didn't feel like dependence, that icky word I feared as a single person. It felt like partnership. 

We've been at this for over a year now, closing in on our second wedding season together, and we've gotten really good at being a team. I can tell when he's under pressure and I know how to help him. He can tell when I'm struggling with a new technical situation and he always has the answer. 

And we have so much fun. If I had any idea how much fun this job would be, I never would have resisted in the first place. This is a no alarm clock job. We get to attend dance parties every week, we see people at their very best and happiest (...usually). Even when it's hard, it's still fun. We work until we're so tired it's hard to make it up the stairs at night, but we like working hard and we like working a lot.

We gets lots of different reactions when we tell people we work together, and they always make us smile. We know we've got a unique dynamic going on here, but it's perfect for us and if we wanted to change it, we would. 

It takes humility and gentleness to make this work relationship work. All that we do on the job is on display to each other and that can be hard, because we can't hide our mistakes when we make them. I get grumpy when I get tired, and he gets grumpy when he gets hungry, and being tired and hungry is part of almost every wedding day, so we get stretched and have to work not to hurt each other's feelings, and then be quick to apologize when we do.

But as long we keep putting our client's and each other's needs ahead of our own, working together doesn't cost our relationship anything, it only adds to it. All the time we get to spend together--have to spend together--is a good thing. My fears of not being able to survive without copious amounts of alone time (classic introvert here) evaporated somewhere along the way of settling into our marriage and work arrangement. 

And some people still think I quit my old job and didn't pick up another "real one". And that's okay. I am a stay-at-home wife just as much as Tim is a stay-at-home husband. We're just usually doing the above all day long at our stay-at-home job.
Except when we're busy trespassing and such :)