moments

A couple nights ago, after we put L down for bed, I sat down on the couch with little LE asleep in my arms. The sun was setting, and through our back window the last few glimmers of daylight were coming through right onto her face. The light was a beautiful, soft glow and it honestly created this perfect moment in time. It was a moment when I didn't think about anything else except this precious little baby and all the possibilities that lay before her.

I asked Ry to bring the camera to me, and I tried valiantly to capture that moment. I thought that if I could catch it on the camera, then this picture would include all of my hopes and dreams and wishes for her. Perhaps this "perfect picture" would somehow be able to tell of all the love I feel for her, how my heart is hers forever, how there is nothing I would want more than to see her live a happy and full life. This picture would show how I want to be there every step of the way for her, help her when she falls, teach her how to be strong, show her how to laugh and be happy. Somehow within that frame I could teach her the life lessons I have learned, and the testimony that I have gained over the years that has shaped who I am. Maybe this picture could even help her understand that while being a mom is hard, it is by far the best decision I ever made in my life and I have felt pure joy because of it.  Not the surface-level pleasure you get when life is easy; but the deep, eternal joy you feel when the challenges make you grow and progress in a way you never thought possible.  Pure joy that results from putting every single bit of energy and life into one purpose, and knowing that by doing so you are doing the best you can. If I could find just the right angle, then this picture could possibly tell her what real love is, and how that love is never ending.

I snapped dozens of pictures that evening, and yet not a single one turned out. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I've never been good with words. That might be why I love to take pictures. But the emotions and feelings I had that night staring at this perfect, beautiful baby were so intricate and profound that there is no way for words or pictures to adequately portray them.

Accepting the fact that these emotions were too strong to confine to a camera lens, I put the camera down and simply held her. My memory will have to suffice for this time, as it did for a similar experience I had with L when he was a newborn. It seems the newness and purity we feel from them as infants rubs off and sparks these eternal thoughts and longings. And it's not something that can be explained through one picture, or one conversation. It's something that needs to be taught over their entire lifetime; pictures and words just catch segments along the way. I love those smaller moments, but it's nice every once in a while to catch a panoramic view of it all.