Thursday, October 2, 2014

Moments

Today I started on the girls' scrapbook.

It was something I intended to do much sooner... almost the first thing I'd planned on, after we got back. But I got caught up making butterflies, and somehow that was what I needed to be doing the most.


Yesterday I went to Michael's and I finally bought the scrapbook. I bought pretty pink and blue and purple scrapbook papers. I bought butterfly stickers and embellishments. Today I went back and bought a paper-cutter. And then this afternoon I finally started– and I managed to work for a few hours, and complete two pages, without thinking too closely about what I was doing.

Because the reality is, I'm making the only scrapbook of my girls I will ever make, with the only photos of them I will ever have.

I have lovely and dear friends who have very lovely babies, and more lovely and dear friends who are expecting babies. Almost every time I get on Facebook I see pictures of adorable, giggling, crying, pouting, eminently kissable babies. They are beautiful pictures. I smile when I see them. But today, starting Livia and Lucy's scrapbook, makes those pictures on Facebook break my heart just a little. All the pink papers and butterfly stickers can't disguise the fact that in those beautiful black-and-white photos I'm putting in the scrapbook, my babies are dead. I will never get to post photos of them in matching outfits and hairbows on Facebook. I will never get to make scrapbooks of them sitting up for the first time, and then walking. There won't be photos of them playing dress-up or finger-painting or eating ice-cream cones with ice-cream dribbling down their fronts. In the only pictures I have, love will always be mingled with grief.

So please, dear friends– everyone blessed with those sweet cuddly babies– don't take it for granted, every time you reach for your camera. I know you already treasure those smiles and pouts and giggles, those new milestones. As you capture a moment that is, remember the hundreds of thousands of women who mourn for all those moments that never-will-be.


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