Tuesday, April 23, 2013
I record memories
I had a brief moment of panic yesterday (okay, I had several) after I got an email reminding me not of how many weeks I had progressed in my pregnancy but of how many I had left. The number stared back at me through my screen and I instantly felt my blood pressure drop. Could that be right? 14 weeks until number two comes? 14 weeks until we welcome another person into our family? 14 weeks until Lucia is no longer an only child? Panic. Panic, excitement and amazement but mostly panic.
My first baby is going to be three in a couple of months and when I hold her at night as we cuddle before bedtime I am reminded of how tiny she was and how soon I'll be holding another newborn. Every night as I sing her a lullaby and she makes her way to my shoulder for a long hug I think about how her legs are so long that they now hang half way down my body. When did she get so tall?
I'm so looking forward to making new memories as a family of four but part of me wishes I could just freeze today. Freeze this moment and hold on to it for as long as I can. I've worked hard, both as a parent and as a photographer, at recording memories in photos. I'll be telling my mom or dad a story about something amazing that Lucia did -- like the time she busted out singing a rendition of Cinderella's "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" in the middle of Citarella in East Hampton and I literally cried in front of many random strangers -- and one of the first things they want to know is whether I took a video. Sometimes yes, sometimes no (even I don't want to experience every part of my life behind my lens or my iPhone screen). "Yes, I recorded it with my heart," I'll tell them. Because that's what I did. But 90% of the time the camera is there to do what I know my mind won't always be able to do...record memories.
I won't forget this day when my big girl came to cuddle in my bed in the morning and I asked her if she had sweet dreams and she proceeded to make up (or remember, I'll never know) a wild story about us going to the park in princess dresses and jumping on the slides and swinging from the monkey bars making crazy animal sounds. She was so earnest and sweet in her rendition that I could imagine myself really there with her. I grabbed my camera off my desk and jumped back into bed with her so we could snuggle and we seemed to reverse the role of the night before where I'm the one who got a story instead of having to tell it. She was moving around and talking fast and really excited about what she was saying. These blurred, of the moment photos look like snapshots from my own dreams and I'm glad I have them. Now to fantasize about the day when I have two tiny humans in bed with me telling me stories - but let's not rush it. 14 weeks.
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