As a photographer I’m pretty in tune with capturing moments. It’s what I do, what I see when I’m with a family for a session and when I’m with MY family. I think part of the draw of photography is to never forget. I take SO many photos because I just don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget the way their newborn skin wrinkled, or the softness of the peach-fuzzy hair on their ears. I don’t want to forget the way they hold my hand, or each others’ hands. How their tiny little heads nuzzled perfectly on my chest below my chin. I don’t want to forget the silly moments of laughter between Daddy and kids. I think because I’ve been doing it for so long, I’ve become almost trained to see these moments. It’s become second nature now. So often we get caught up in the daily hustle, the lunches to pack, the clutter to tidy, the dinner to be made. But still, in quick moments through the day I find myself saying “This. Right here.”
A moment to breathe in. Soaking in the present. Committing it to memory and praying it doesn’t get lost in the chaos that continues on in the moments after, whether you like it or not.
A quiet wish to freeze time, to hold these tiny bodies close to you for just a little longer.
Yesterday I was nursing Silas and he fell asleep. We were sitting on the comfy chair in his room, his little body fits so perfectly in my arms. His head resting against my chest, his lips pursed. His hand that was reaching up to my face now laying still upon my hand. I stared at his sweet, soft face with the baby features I know will change so quickly. He gave a little sleepy and content sigh as he drifted off, safe in my arms. This. Right here.
The other night at dinner at the suggestion of one of the big kids, Daddy drew a face on his tummy to make his bellybutton talk. (Yeah, hilarious! I have many children.) The tears of laughter in Livvie’s eyes as she exclaimed “You’re SO FUNNY Daddy!” and the way Eli leaned his head back and laughed and begged him to do it again. This. Right here.
As I watch my big littles walk into their kindergarten classroom. Giving me a kiss and a hug, waving goodbye to me and heading with their friends into the strange new world without me. So independent, but still my babies. So proud and sad and excited all in the same moment. This. Right here.
And as quick as those moments come, the next moments intrude and demand their attention. There are things to be done. To-do lists and laundry to tackle. Life continues.
But this, right here, these snapshots are worth all the work.