Snapshot
Throughout my life I have collected in my mind an album of sorts--a photo album of the snapshots taken by my heart. There was my 17th birthday when my grandfather serenaded me with his "barbershop quartet" in front of my friends and family. I was so touched, it was a very special moment for me. And a few years later there was the moment I saw by beloved Aaron walk through the doors entering a Friday night dance on the Utah State University campus. My breath caught when I saw him standing in the doorway, and in that moment, I knew I would marry him.
Years after that I began collecting snapshot moments at the births of my four children. Four births, four snapshots, each individual and infinitely different from the one before.
The birth of Brighton is forever sealed in my mind, captured in the moment the doctor lifted him from my body and placed him on my belly. For the first time I gazed upon my own child. I remember being startled at how long he was, though he was only 19 inches long. I was a mother and he was my child and that moment was so big and overwhelming and powerful.
Paige was the prettiest newborn baby I had ever seen. Moments after a extremely easy delivery, I watched as the nurse wrapped her tightly in a white blanket with blue and pink stripes and placed her in a bassinet next to my hospital bed. She was all pink and purple and tiny and new and the prettiest little angel I had ever seen.
An unexpected pregnancy brought us Aiden. Though I had been a mother for nearly four years, I was terrified. We didn't know if we were having a boy or girl, so my mind couldn't form a picture of what our family would be like with a third child. All of the worries in the world melted away though when the doctor lifted a tiny boy from my body and passed him gently to a nurse waiting with warm, clean towels in her hands. As if in slow motion, I watched as my son was passed from on set of hands to the next. Just as he was held over me, his left hand reached out toward me. Instinctively, I reached for it placing my thumb square in his tiny palm. His fingers wrapped around mine. His hand was so warm and calming. It took only an instant to form our special bond.
And then there was Keelie. I knew Keelie was a girl, and I knew her name was Keelie, and I also knew she was my last. My moment with Keelie still brings me to tears. When she was seven hours old I lifted her from her bassinet. She was tightly wrapped in a white receiving blanket, a tiny little bundle. I held her close to me and nestled her at my side as I reclined in the hospital bed. Her head full of thick, black hair rested at my shoulder and put my cheek against her head. I knew she was special though it would take nearly two years for the doctors to see it too. "You love her don't you." Aaron commented as he watched us, his wife and daughter, from his seat on the pull out sofa in the hospital room. I didn't answer, I didn't have to. Of course I loved her, I love all of my children.
There is nothing extraordinary about these moments. Women all over the world and throughout time have had similar experiences. But for me and I hope for my children, these moments are magic.
Years after that I began collecting snapshot moments at the births of my four children. Four births, four snapshots, each individual and infinitely different from the one before.
The birth of Brighton is forever sealed in my mind, captured in the moment the doctor lifted him from my body and placed him on my belly. For the first time I gazed upon my own child. I remember being startled at how long he was, though he was only 19 inches long. I was a mother and he was my child and that moment was so big and overwhelming and powerful.
Paige was the prettiest newborn baby I had ever seen. Moments after a extremely easy delivery, I watched as the nurse wrapped her tightly in a white blanket with blue and pink stripes and placed her in a bassinet next to my hospital bed. She was all pink and purple and tiny and new and the prettiest little angel I had ever seen.
An unexpected pregnancy brought us Aiden. Though I had been a mother for nearly four years, I was terrified. We didn't know if we were having a boy or girl, so my mind couldn't form a picture of what our family would be like with a third child. All of the worries in the world melted away though when the doctor lifted a tiny boy from my body and passed him gently to a nurse waiting with warm, clean towels in her hands. As if in slow motion, I watched as my son was passed from on set of hands to the next. Just as he was held over me, his left hand reached out toward me. Instinctively, I reached for it placing my thumb square in his tiny palm. His fingers wrapped around mine. His hand was so warm and calming. It took only an instant to form our special bond.
And then there was Keelie. I knew Keelie was a girl, and I knew her name was Keelie, and I also knew she was my last. My moment with Keelie still brings me to tears. When she was seven hours old I lifted her from her bassinet. She was tightly wrapped in a white receiving blanket, a tiny little bundle. I held her close to me and nestled her at my side as I reclined in the hospital bed. Her head full of thick, black hair rested at my shoulder and put my cheek against her head. I knew she was special though it would take nearly two years for the doctors to see it too. "You love her don't you." Aaron commented as he watched us, his wife and daughter, from his seat on the pull out sofa in the hospital room. I didn't answer, I didn't have to. Of course I loved her, I love all of my children.
There is nothing extraordinary about these moments. Women all over the world and throughout time have had similar experiences. But for me and I hope for my children, these moments are magic.
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