1000 words

I have been going through our baby pictures of A a lot lately. I have mentioned it several times in the last few weeks I know. I have been struck by those pictures though and the memories of the moments that they captured. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words and in some ways that is right but it also doesn't tell the rest of the story.

For me looking back on the pictures evoke powerful memories and with them extreme emotion. I see the first time I held my baby and I am overwhelmed with the feeling of love... oddly enough more so than I was when the picture was taken. I see the smiles that we tried to capture the first few months and I soften to the point of boneless. I see her first meal or when she first pulled herself up in the crib and I beam with pride. All of these associations are pleasurable because of the memories that I have of the moments and the times. I see the smiles,the laughs, the interaction with her Da and I am transported to the times when I took the pictures ( that would be why I am in so few of them : )

I was looking at those photos with A on my lap and I was telling her about the people in them ( you can't start too soon with that type of thing in my opinion.) That is your Aunt Skyla holding you, there is your Grandma Barb and Aunt Chelsea with you on the couch, there is Nana holding you on the first day you were on this earth... that type of conversation.... and one of those little memories popped up of a beautiful little girl who was covered head to toe in eczema. My heart broke as I looked at that photo and thought back to the battles that we had in the beginning with eczema and how it felt like we were losing. I was almost in tears when I thought of how desperate D and I were to fix that problem so that we could touch our little girl again. Thankfully we have it under control for the most part... though we still have a skirmish every now and then. Something that occurred to me as I was looking at those pictures is that in some ways they only tell half of the story.

When I look at a photo of my daughter smiling I finish the smile in my head. When I see that wide-eyed look that we have so many pictures of I see the laugh that she just had. I see all of that. The picture doesn't share that though. It is a captured moment. One second of time... that has a beginning and an end that are not shared. I look at the photos of my little one covered in eczema and that is nearly the focal point of the photo. D didn't like me to take photos of her back then. He didn't want to have the photos that showed her looking miserable. But she wasn't always miserable. The photos don't show that she was still one of the smiliest little girls in the world. She was amazing for a girl in so much pain. I took the photos anyways because I wanted to have something to look back on that would bring the memories to mind, but they are tough to look at because I know that she was in pain.

One of the things I worry about is A looking at those photos when she gets older. Self confidence is something that is hard to come by and it can be diminished so easily. One misplaced comment from some one respected and it can be shaken to the core. I am awed by how beautiful my little girl is. It floors me constantly... but will she look at the photos that I have of her early months and only see the flaws. I hope not. I hope that she, like myself, can look past the eczema to the remarkable smile and the twinkling eyes. I hope that she will understand that I took the photos because the smiles on her face despite the discomfort she was dealing with impressed me. I hope that I can help her to learn a confidence that will shine from her, and will not be easily shaken.

I will continue to take the photos as often as I can... chronicling what I see as the transformation of a remarkable child into a remarkable adult. How can she be anything but?