Little Memories

Sweet baby Alvi. After a good couple hours of screaming, she laid there with her chubby little baby hands next to her face with her fingers intertwined and her sweet little knuckle dimples so peacefully. Her little eyes fluttered open halfway, she pooched out her bum, and let out the tiniest little toot I've ever heard, and then chuckled before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

As a mom, I make it my job to soak up every single detail before it’s too late. Every dimple, giggle, their curls, the faces they make, they’re sweet little baby feet, the way they embrace and thrive over snuggles. Every. Little. Detail. Because someday they’ll be grown, but I want to look at them and remember these moments. The ones where nothing in the world mattered more than where I was and what I’m doing, before they spread their wings and need me less.


That’s the thing though, about survival brain. I forget things in a matter of weeks. What kind of mom can’t remember things as simple as the time her child was born, or how they looked at her like the sun shone from her eyes, the hours spent playing with toys without a care in the world, how much they’ve grown and changed since birth? Well, this mom, and that is so so hard. So many precious memories that fade and turn to nothing. I pray that as we fix myself, they return. My heart breaks looking at them and remembering fleeting images and nothing more. I know things we did, I look at pictures, videos, people tell stories, and none of it compares to what it must feel like to truly remember.

I’m grateful for deciding now, before it becomes too late some day. I still have a fighting chance to remember these days, and I’m going to do everything in my power to heal my wounds and live in the moment with my babies. They deserve that just as much as I do.


Today, Miss Alvi got her toes painted for the very first time in her almost 17 months of life, and the amount of pictures I’ve taken is ridiculous. Luci was hardly a month old when I did hers, but it was so much easier for me to be involved and obsessive when she was born. Life was easier, simpler, and I didn’t struggle then the way I do now.


This is monumental and I want to remember. She’s such a sweet little bean and her chubby little baby hands and feet are by far my favorite thing. If I could eat them, I probably would. Obviously I didn’t paint her fingers so she couldn’t chew the paint off, but her hands are still the daintiest little things, and I pray for the ability to slow down and heal much sooner than later, but I know that healing takes time and work. Someday, very soon, I will get there, and it will be such a joyous day.



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