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It’s Saturday morning, and we have a full day of “home-based” activities on the horizon. We’re baking banana bread (with a hint of lime as I’ve found to be customary in many of my readings about Guatemalan recipes), we have crafts lined up (the kids are really into creations made with construction paper cut-outs of their hands right now), we plan on giving the dog a bath (insert groan here)—a full, nice day. Throw in clean up, most likely bath time, hopefully a nap, and meals, and our day is set. But the weather outside is not typical of August in Chicago; it’s cooler, very autumn-like, and it has me a quite a bit nostalgic.
Memories are amazing, sometimes funny, and often beautiful things. I can recall (to sense of almost feeling transported back in time) the first few months of Bear’s life—his coos and cries, those endless nights, the tears of joy I would cry when holding my sleeping baby in the glider late into the evening, moving slowly and sleepily into the early morning hours. As many other parents will maintain, moments such as those pop up when you least expect them—those tiny moments that “click”—ones you know you’ll remember your whole life.
Forgive me, I’m waxing just a bit poetic today.
I was organizing pictures on my favorite photo sharing site and came across this picture of Beauty from last January. It was her first real experience with physically being in the snow, and while she was lukewarm to it at first, Bear quickly encouraged her (as only a big brother can do) with his enthusiasm. I snapped this picture just as Beauty was realizing this foreign white substance on the ground held the promise of entertainment. The way the sun is shining on her face, the beginnings of the sweetest smile at the corners of her mouth—this picture just gets me every time.
Perhaps it is partially due to the fact that I know that living where we live, snow will become to her what it becomes to most of us in the Chicagoland area: expected, desired for the holidays, lovely as it lines the tree branches, and perhaps even a bit annoying at times. Certainly, all parents love to watch the wonder of any first experience for their child, but I can’t help but think of how different her “firsts” would be had she remained in Guatemala with her birth mother. It’s a bittersweet thought, but to have this opportunity to be here for each and every first, it is pricelessly precious; it is truly the greatest gift.
I may not have had the quiet moments in the still of the night, perched in the glider after a 1 AM feeding with Beauty, but I am not for want of photograph-like memories of my daughter’s life thus far, even having missed her first nine months. To know what I have and to anticipate all that is yet to come, I know this is one of the true joys of parenthood. While I will always feel torn between sorrow that Beauty couldn’t grow up with her birth mom and pure elation that she will grow up with me, I will also always be grateful for every beautiful memory, every photograph both physical and mental, and every beautiful passing day spent with both my children.
Photo Credit: 2009 Courtney O.
