It’s blurry! Let me take another one.
Oh that’s perfect! Oh wait. She moved.
Let me try one more time. Ok wait. One last one.
Lola! Lola look at mama. Please.
Rarely does this end in a crisp clear photograph. Instead it ends with me throwing in the towel by tucking my iPhone into my pocket and silently wishing my baby stood still long enough for me to photograph her. But that’s just at first glance.
Oftentimes in a moment of quiet I revisit the captured moments of the day or week. And as I scroll through my camera roll, unlike many of my photos, my reality becomes increasingly clear. It has kept me from deleting many photographs and resulted in a hard drive filled with numerous moments, some of them comprised of 10 or 15 photos only slightly different from one another.
The blurs are beautiful. The blurs are the pixie dust of childhood moments. The blur symbolizes the fact that life is moving and that we are fortunate enough to get to come along for the ride. They are reminder of how fun this chapter in your little one’s journey is — for us it’s filled with dancing toes and waving hands, games of chase and the throwing of balls and tantrums and quests to find missing binkies. It’s filled with the rocking of baby dolls and washing hands in a play kitchen. It’s filled with scattered cheerios, spilled milk, moments of frustration and moments of sheer bliss.
The “action shots” are a reminder that life is happening, not stagnant but in motion. Yes, we are swiftly traveling down the trajectory of life. And the blur and all it represents is beautiful.
Our babies are thriving. They are reaching milestones and taking in the world around them. There’s a truth that we mothers know, that time slows down for no mom. We want to freeze it and hold onto it. And yet, we can’t. What we can do is embrace it — time — and however, we manage to capture it whether blurry or crystal clear.
My baby’s blurs are my reminder to savor these moments because eventually, when the pixie dust settles she will be a baby no longer. Each magical moment seems to bring us closer to “kid” status. In moments of reflection, I tell myself that there’s no need for tears which result in a blurring effect all on their own. The concept of time is bittersweet but most certainly more sweet than it is bitter.