This post came just a couple of days after I heard a very similar sentiment from my wise beyond her years baby sister, who kept snapping pictures of me with Cora while we walked to the park and as I pushed her on the swing. When I expressed discomfort at the idea of having to look at myself in my ripped pink tank top and old faded yoga pants, messy hair and glasses, carrying a few extra pounds that have stayed around since I’ve become a mother and that always seem to look so obvious in photos, she snapped those pictures anyway. She told me that one day I will want to look back and see myself included.
I have thousands of pictures of Cora, but few of them actually contain me. If Cora could someday remember this time in her life, I know I would feature front and center in her memories, since I am central to her world. It seems vain and unnecessary to purposefully omit me just because I am self-conscious.
Today while scrolling through my computer, I found a picture a friend took over a year ago. I never shared the photo, but looking at it now, I see how much I love it.
The look on my face shows how happy I am. I was in my overly happy post-heart-surgery phase. And Cora is so beautiful with her round little joyful baby face. But it’s us together that I love. Not a perfect photo, and certainly not a perfect backdrop, but it’s beautiful nonetheless.
I don’t think I’m quite ready to share the pink tank top pictures. Maybe that’s something I’ll work on. But in the meantime I will keep them in my folder and will resist my impulse to hit delete.