Mar 25, 2018

The photo album/holding life in my hands 2

30 years ago I had just been let out of the hospital where I was nesting a baby for three months. That’s because my second pregnancy was close to a way too early end in the 25th week of the pregnancy. To try to keep the baby in my uterus as long as possible I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed other than going to the bathroom, and I was kept in the hospital as the doctors didn’t trust me on that if I would be at home. So for eleven weeks I was pretty much locked in as the snow fell outside my window day after day, week after week, month after month.

It was difficult. Still, it had a happy ending.

At 36 weeks a pregnancy is considered complete, and that’s when I was allowed  returning back home to Trouble 1 and his dad. And March 29 a healthy baby boy was born, Trouble 2.

When Trouble 1 turned 30 I made photo albums from out his first five years. Old school albums, taping pictures in beautiful files, adding stories in words. Finally, I would say. I always was a diligent photographer and up until my own 30 I put together albums for myself. When the kids arrived though… well, not so much.

I know I’m not the only one keeping photos in shoe boxes. As I am a well organized person the practical aspect of the whole thing wasn't a problem though. All the pictures are archived in years and events. Christmases, vacations, birthdays. It’s just picking them, one after the other. 

No, the real work was of course the emotional part. Digging deep down in memories and emotions. Sentiments and nostalgia. It was exhausting. And a truly effective self therapy.

Which has been proven these last few weeks as it was time putting together Trouble 2’s firsts years in photo albums. The emotional part of the work hasn’t been as difficult this time around. Moments for taking deep breaths of course and breaks returning to the reality of today, surface after diving deep. But for the most part I have been enjoying the process. Finding myself smiling, in pictures and words creating Trouble 2’s story at the start of his life.

It was snowing as I woke up this morning. My sister and her family came early to help set the table, decorate with glossy balloons and shining streamers, and of course shovel the snow. And as the guest of honor and all the family arrived, the sun did too!

We were sixteen people in my sunny yellow (and now pinkish) kitchen celebrating Trouble 2 today. Sixteen people who all love him very much. Brother, girlfriend, sister-in-law, brother in law, cousins, aunt and uncle, grandmother, in-law-parents, cousins kids. And mother.  

He opened the presents. The photo albums were much appreciated. I feel like I did a good thing. That’s a nice feeling.

In a few days my baby boy is turning 30. A young man now a grown up. Kind, caring and handsome. I am so grateful Trouble 2 is my son. And that I get to be his mother.

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