Here I am, about to start 37 weeks!
The long (and the real):
Here I am, having the photos taken that I’ve promised I would for months. And only because my husband was wise enough to insist and kind enough to take them. I admire his bravery to be honest. I really am the most difficult, self critical woman on the planet when it comes to photos and I wouldn’t want to capture me. Knowing that, the events that took place around this seemingly small task should not have come as any surprise. Let me paint a picture.
Before this moment, I begrudgingly struggled up the stairs to try and find something to fit. I changed more than once and cursed more than twice. I watched the light falling outside while I tried to apply false eyelashes to eyes that were too far from the mirror.
I struggled back down the stairs to three children who wouldn’t change into photo appropriate attire and traipsed the endless bed of bindies to the the closest patch of light. All the while, snapping instructions to my poor beloved who somehow wasn’t born knowing how to a) operate a camera on manual b) capture sunflare or c) see inside my mind. Don’t get my legs, I said. You’re too far back. Get Ivy with my tummy. Not that low. I said no legs. What are you doing? What am I doing? Seriously.
Seven minutes later and wise, kind beloved looks confused and regretful. The boys are fading and Ivy appears crest fallen. I loudly and dramatically admit defeat and stomp (as best I can with a broken pelvis) back indoors, proclaiming I’m going to find another family on match.com who will actually make a real effort.
And then.. cue the wailing. The latex glue on my eyelashes are causing an allergic reaction and my feet are morphing into cushions. Everything, every. single. thing, hurt.
But worse than that? The LCD told me what I already knew. Sniffling and pathetic, I sat flicking through frame after frame of images that looked nothing like the ones in my head and wailed some more. I wasn’t being rational and I had no intention of trying to be.
Later that night, with less puffy eyes and feets, I looked again and still, I saw the same frames and flaws. I saw nothing that I’d wanted captured and everything that I didn’t. But also, as I saw the happy smiles of my children, I realized that the clothes I’d gotten cross over were barely noticeable. And that the photos themselves were technically fine. They may not have donned the perfect outfits or pressed the exact buttons I’d wanted but they all happily came to capture this moment. They came because it was important to me and even when I slid into tantrum mode and none of it was the least bit fun anymore, they didn’t walk away. And so, with new seeing, I’m sharing this with you.
The Really Real:
Here I am, starting 37 weeks tomorrow :) I look at this image and it makes my heart burst. I see my gorgeous Ivy and her pure excitement. I see the months of anticipation and gratitude and I see the years of hope and perseverance. I see my amazing belly that’s holding the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. I see a new door opening. I see a different February to the last five and I see that even from the very, very darkest of days that the sun can shine again. I see Ava, my sweet, sweet Ava, and all that has become because of her. Most of all, I see an image taken with so much love, by the one I love.
Thankyou my darling for helping me see as you saw.
ps A favorite song, for you, and to remind me.