I have a TON of pictures! I love taking them. I love having them. But that is where the love stops.
All of those pictures I have taken over the years sit in my computer. They are not in an album. They are not in a scrapbook. They just sit, all lonely, with no one to view them but my husband and I, in our computer.
I like the idea of scrap booking but to actually do it . . . the thought alone overwhelms me. Just thinking about doing it, causes me to get all anxious.
I will do it though, one of these days, I will get around to putting all of our pictures in a pretty little book. Where I can sit curled up in a ball on the couch, with child in lap and flip through the pages, looking at the years that have already been lived.
I have always been a lover of history. I have always been a lover of books. I have also always been a lover of a pen and a blank page before me.
I love to write. Somehow, I can communicate better through writing than through speaking.
I don't have a photo album for my daughter to look through.
I do, however, have some things for my daughter. Right now, she is too young to appreciate them, but it is my hope, that one day, she will.
The Pregnancy Journal. I wanted a way to document every detail of that time with her.
I filled in all the spaces it allows for such pregnancy things like morning sickness, cravings and that dreaded weight gain.
I also filled in a lot more. I wrote her little notes. I told her how excited I was. I described doctors visits, maternity clothes shopping and my baby shower with her.
I wrote it all down because that is something I have always done and because I want her to be able to look through it when she is older and know how much she was loved before I ever got the chance to hold her in my arms. I want her to know that I loved her before first sight.
And, right before she arrived, I bought a Baby Book. Again, I filled in every detail of her, every milestone she reached and much more. I am still writing away in that book. A way of documenting the history of her. A place to describe who she was at two months . . . at two years.journal that is mine and hers is something sacred. I won't share what is written in this because it is hers and that is for her to decide. I write because I love her. I write because I want to always remember her at every stage. I write because life moves fast and I need to keep up but I also need a way to preserve the moments too.
I don't know when I will give these three things to her. So, for now, I will keep them safe for her and continue to jot down the ways I love her. I would like to give these to her when Motherhood awaits her because that is when she will fully be able to appreciate the ways of a Mom. But one never knows, I may hand the journal that is mine but ultimately hers when she is a teenager, driving me crazy and doubting if I really love her. Maybe I'll give it to her then, and she'll know, be reassured that I'm not out to ruin her life and that I do, always, love her.