Thursday, January 27, 2011

Momma Ink

I haven't been on lately.  With court issues and single parenthood, I've fallen into a rut.  We go to court for more custody issues on the 8th, so after that I will hopefully be posting again regularly.  In the meantime, I have this:

Monday, January 3, 2011

Moments Not Forgotten: A Memory And A Snapshot

There are so many moments that I try so hard to hold on to, but as time fades away, the memories become more faint.

This is one of my favorite pictures.  It was taken on my cell phone, which has a way of distorting things (like Jellybean's head) so that they don't appear to be the correct size in proportion to the rest of the picture.  (In fact, when I texted this picture out to friends and family they all commented on how big she was--but she was actually a fairly small baby.)  The resolution is crappy.  But this shot remains a favorite.  It was taken when I first brought Jellybean home from the hospital. 

Right before this picture was taken, my mom attempted to hold her for just a minute so that I could get something to eat.  Jellybean cried her little newborn eyes out until my mom handed her back to me.  The moment she was back in my arms, the crying stopped.  That was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  She wanted me.  For once, I was the one with the magic touch.  My baby.  Breathtaking.

As I write this, I realize how easily I have forgotten that feeling.  Sometimes when she is whining for me and I can't so much as go to the bathroom by myself, I get frustrated.  Just a minute alone, please!  I have taken that feeling for granted--being the momma.  Being the one who can always make it better.  How could I so easily lose sight of just how lucky I am?

I seem to find myself fighting for space now, not realizing how much it will totally suck when I get that space that I've been craving.  One of these days she is going to be thirteen and will be too old to be held.  She will turn sixteen and spending time with me won't be her favorite thing in the whole world.  She will turn twenty and then twenty-five and she will marry some guy and I won't even be her go-to person anymore.  And all I will have is the memory and this snapshot.