Connor + Sarah + The Arrival of Jack Wilder. Kansas City Birth Photographer
His story was sung into life with gentle breaths from his father, welcoming him to the world with tunes of admiration and promise. His story was kissed into existence by his mother, breathing him in, memorizing and falling even more in love. And yet, his story had begun before this.
His story began when his daddy set eyes on the woman he loved from across the room, and with unparalleled confidence admired and pursued her from the beginning.
His story began when she said to her own father, "Dad, I've met someone just like you."
His story began where his momma yearned for him more deeply, more wholly for the weeks past what so many anticipated. Embracing their own journey every step of the way, his story was written by the parents who worked in agony for him for days. Dark would settle a blanket over her whispers and his tender solace and they were in each other's arms still as light rose one twinkle at a time, glimmers of the warm weight he would be on her breast, glimmers of the hope set before them. His story was written by the two who never looked back, turned the clock away as they knew he would enter on his own time, and their prize would be worth it.
His story is one of their village, his village, though he doesn't know it yet.
The ink strokes of letters in his story are the reassuring touches of gentleness from her sister, swelling with steady intentionality when the labor waves would rise like only a woman with fresh understanding of the suffering can offer. They are the peaceful presence of her mother at her side, unwavering in her patience and calm. They are the rallying of so many of those eager, ready, waiting, who would take her pain if they could, and still knowing deeper that this was her journey alone with the work only she could do, looking on her with full eyes.
Yes, the lines and curves and punctuations of the writing of his story, each nuance, are the choices along the way, not simple ones, nothing of his story would be, but ones his mother and father made in focused solidarity for him, always for him.
And when they look back on these photographs, bleary eyed from sleepless nights, or in a few years between the busyness of their son growing into his own, they'll see their own story interwoven with the beginning of his. She'll see the man who's been by her side, never for a moment leaving her, his confidence in her, her comfort in him. He'll see the beauty of her steady grace, her always by his side, his helper, his mate, his love. And their son, he'll see the strength that's always been theirs.
Because his story was birthed by their yoked unity, exploring life in fullness, hand-in-hand in pursuit of their starry dreams. Unfettered by fear, living in boldness and ambitions. Like theirs he'll learn, storms will come and plans may be unraveled, but two as a force of one can not be hindered. And now, as three they'll a new story together, and it's only just begun.
This is the story of the arrival of John Wilder. See the film here.
Find Allison Corrin Photography in Kansas City on Facebook here.
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