Inspired and empowered by this article from Good Housekeeping
I cannot remember a time where I didn’t shy away from the camera. When I was young I did not jump into a shot. I would lay low and even offer to take the photo. My mother used to take a lot of pictures while my brother and I were doing something like opening presents, carving pumpkins, school performances but it is rare to see me posing in one. My brother has always been the ham of the family. Eager to jump into any shot – before it was called photo bombing. Eventually my parents caught on when they paid for the roll of film to be developed and there were a dozen pictures that were blurry from my brother running into the frame or the never ending bunny ears added as often as possible.
When I went away to college I had a nice collection of pictures of my friends and family. I doubt I was in any of the pictures. Years went on and digital cameras and better camera phones came about and things started to get weird (to me). Going over to friends’ homes I was bombarded with tons of pictures with the “friend” in every single shot. We were adults now so photographs were displayed in single or collage frames. It stuck out as strange… a family picture – sure you can be in it and frame it. A collage of frames all from a nice winery with yourself in the middle of endless combinations of girlfriends in every darn shot… I feel is obnoxious (especially the obviously drunk ones, double especially if it isn’t their bridal shower, bachelorette party, birthday party). Don’t get me wrong I do think selfies have a time and place. But when did having a picture displayed of your close friends mean your own mug needs to be in the center?
I digress.
Now to be fair. I know I am in the wrong avoiding the camera. I have been trying to make a conscious effort for the sake of my daughter, M, to be in pictures. To initiate the picture – throw my phone to Trey and ask for our picture to be taken together. I do not look forward to a time when M will be looking for pictures from when she was younger for a school project and not be able to find me in hardly any of them. Vanity aside I want my daughter to see I was there. I was with her at the zoos, museums, parks, beaches/pools (shudder) not just Trey. Also, it is my choice for my daughter that does not mean I am comfortable posting a beach picture on the internet – ever. 🙂
There is only one way that my brother and Trey are alike and that is they are both camera hogs. I remember when M was born a photography business that worked alongside the hospital was scheduled to come and take newborn photographs the day after M was born. Trey spent the night before at our house to be with the dogs so I gave him a list of things I would need for the shoot the next day. Basics that didn’t seem important for the birth of my daughter. A black or white shirt, my makeup bag (I only brought moisturizer with me), hair straightener, and a nicer pair of sweats. Trey brought NOTHING but remembered to gussy himself up. I was hormonal and devastated and refused to be part of the newborn session. I declared it would just be about M and Trey and I would not be part of it – Period. Well, the session started and M was and still is a carbon copy of Trey. She was also teeny tiny, barely over 5 pounds. The photographer asked Trey to hold M and told me that Trey would not be in the pictures, just his hands to show perspective on how sweet and tiny our Valentine baby was. Then I guess some sort of creative process took over because when I got the proofs 3 hours later I was livid. Trey was in a ton of pictures. Adorable daddy/daughter ones. Photographs where Trey could not fake how in love he was with our daughter. I was livid and jealous.
A couple of days later we were all home when I got on Facebook. All of these tags notified me that my daughter had been announced to the internet (I have all sorts of feels about that as well). As I clicked on the pictures one at a time I saw that there were snapshots with Trey and M… my mother in law with M… and other family members posted pictures as well.
I instantly panicked and yelled for Trey. When he got to me I turned my iPad around and started pointing out the pictures. He wasn’t surprised by them, he had been on social media, he hadn’t just given birth a few days before. Then I asked the question I already knew the answer to, “Are there any pictures of me and M from when she was born?” I swear Trey’s eyes almost fell out of his head. He tried to blow me off saying he was “sure” there was. I asked to see his phone and I scrolled through the pictures. Nope. Uncontrollable sobbing started (from me). With all of our loses and how hard it was to bring M into this world… It appeared as though Trey adopted a newborn clone of himself and invited everyone he knew to visit. Trey scrambled out of the room and I heard him making calls a lot of them. No one had anything with me in it. It was like I wasn’t there. Which is ironic because M’s birth story is a story in itself and I was very much there and not there at the same time*. Trey made one last call, to my birth father and asked about pictures. He had a few and sent them right away. I am forever thankful that my father thought about me that day. Trey was mostly out of the doghouse because I was exhausted. I understand the world does not revolve around me. But I am still surprised looking back at pictures from those days that no one thought about taking a picture of our new family together. Or mother and daughter.
* Someday I may write M’s birth story. It is an amazing story on its own. A fascinating mix of nature, high risk doctors and nurses, husband panic, abandonment, lies, and sleeping pills given to me less than an hour before Miss M arrived. I feel like I need to explain why I specifically called out my mother in law and birth father during Trey’s trial by hormonal wife. No one knew it at the time…I was functioning on some level with the sleeping pills in my system actively birthing my child even though I do not have one memory. People generally scoff and don’t really believe me. The proof is in the story. Trey panicked (general soon to be dad panic), went into the waiting room and INVITED my MOTHER IN LAW and my birth FATHER into the delivery room. Seriously inappropriate. Seriously embarrassing. Seriously there was no way I was actually aware. Seriously the last people I would chose to be there.
Undeniably Imperfect 