A Picture's Worth a Thousand Feelings

I love pictures.  I love looking through them after a day that was filled with fun.  I like to pour over old photos and how I can usually remember a crazy amount of detail about the moment.  I have my camera, or at the very least my phone at all time so I can capture what’s in front of me.  I love the stories photos tell, not necessarily through what you are seeing, because lord knows we rarely take pictures of the bad times, but the stories that are called to mind when you look at them.

I’m usually behind the camera.  I’m comfortable there.  But every once in a while I think it’s important to hand over the camera to a professional and be part of the memory.  Newborn photos, family pictures- those I have always been able to get on board with.  One trend that always made me uncomfortable though was maternity photo-shoots.  Not for me anyway.  I always felt overexposed just thinking about doing them.  Now, maybe this is because I’m not one of those people that loves being pregnant.  I tolerate it because the end game is well worth it, but I am by no means someone that “misses” it. 

Now when I was pregnant with Kennedy I took a profile shot of my belly every month but just for me, if only occasionally showing a family member.  I remember having a meltdown, just days before I had her, when my sister innocently posted one of the two of us- incredibly pregnant- on Facebook.  I was so swollen and felt deeply unattractive and so just about lost my mind.  She quickly took it down, if only to shut me up, and that was that. 

When I was pregnant with Jack, by the time I was starting to show, the bad news had already started mounting.  I was miserable.  I was always crying, makeup a mess, and in no mood to smile for anyone.  I can honestly say I have about four photos of me pregnant with him and then, just like that he was gone.  I hated myself for it.  I spent so much time wallowing and feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t stop to ever really appreciate any of the small moments. That’s not to say they weren’t there; there were many.  I was just oblivious to them at the time.

And so after weathering the last two years and then learning we were going to be having another baby, I vowed to myself that I would appreciate it this time.  That if I could be brave enough to carry another baby, and shoulder all of the emotion that comes with that each day, that I could suck it up and document it.  If for no other reason, I want to be able to explain to my son, that though it was with a broken and roughly patched together heart, that I was so incredibly thankful he was coming. 

So a few weeks back, I reached out to the wonderful photographer that took our family photos when it was just the three of us and that graciously edited all of our photos that were taken of Jack at CHOP at no cost, and asked her to be part of this too.  She right away said yes and I right away began to reconsider my decision.  I started coming up with a list of all of the things I wouldn’t do:  no bare belly, no Sean kissing said belly, the list just kept growing.  I did want to subtly pay homage to the fact that this is a “rainbow baby”; that we’d weathered a storm and something beautiful was waiting for us. 

I donned a dress, a flower crown of rainbow pastel colors, and brought my beautiful baby girl, handsome husband, and the little worn elephant that has come to symbolize my first baby boy and we set out to do something none of us were incredibly comfortable with: Kennedy is no smile-er , Sean couldn’t believe I wanted him to wear long sleeves, and I was about to touch my stomach in front of a camera.  I am so thankful we did.  The results were magic and I sobbed when I saw them.  They tell a story.  Maybe it’s only me that see’s it when I look at them but there’s a story there and it goes like this:

There was a family that was once so whole and so happy.  Then they lost someone; a boy that could never be replaced and that left a gaping hole in this family.  It near broke the mom; you can still see it in her smile-a smile that looks happy enough-but nothing like it ever used to.  The dad and the little girl, they fought so hard to make the mom happy again, and she thinks of that every time she touches them.  Years past and, somehow, they decided they would try to give the little girl a little hand to hold in the hand that didn’t clutch that little elephant still so tightly.  Despite how scared they were, they found themselves excited for who was to come.  And despite all of the tears and heartache, the family found themselves able to be happy once again.

I think she nailed it.  That’s exactly what I saw when I looked through each frame.

Fun Fact:  my great-grandmother made this maternity blouse for my great-aunt.  My mom and sister both wore it too. 

Shifting gears a for a quick minute: my Grammy came upstate for a weeklong visit.  She has gotten old, her Parkinson’s is taking more away from her than seems fair, and it breaks my heart sometimes.  But beneath all of that I still see the woman that I have loved so deeply for the last almost thirty-two years.  She still makes me laugh at the things she says, and makes these facial expressions that give you a glimpse at the kind of spitfire she is beneath her more proper exterior.  And the way Kennedy loves her; my God it gives me all the feels.  I watched my little girl take such care of this woman she loves just the way I do, helping her move from place to place, and holding her hand, and declaring that “Only me and Grammy are sitting in the special seats at the movie theater!” in the car and then “quietly” telling my mom that they are special seats for old people “but don’t tell Grammy she is old, that’s disrespectful.”  If we could keep her here with us forever we would and it makes me miss being home and close to her.  And I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that’s terrified that time is running out and she will be our next big heartbreak.  But for now, we drink up our time with her, knowing she’ll be back soon to meet our new little man that is coming very soon.

Pictures.  To me, they are worth more than a thousand words.  Sometimes there are no words.  They are worth a thousand feelings.  I have no doubt that when I am old and gray, I will continue to pour over these pictures I’ve taken, and upload, and dutifully back up on my hard drive each night and remember the moments that were captured.  And when I’m gone, hopefully they will tell a story for the ones I love.