This photo (which is not mine) stood out while I was somewhat mindlessly clicking through Flikr, looking for some inspiration. It feels and looks like something I’m not sure I even want (though I think I do) but that becomes so much more complicated when you have a chronic illness. (Can I hear a what, what, Lindsay, Laurie and Kerri?)
This photo shows such love between mother and child, such innocence as of yet unspoiled. It is beautiful and tender and vulnerable and personal. It speaks of something I’ve not yet experienced and maybe never will, but for a few moments, I can peek into the world of motherhood and get a glimpse at just why it is that having children is something that is assumed; people don’t often ask if you’re having children, they ask when. (Or at least they do to me!)
One day, it would be nice to experience such an easy, everyday event: bathing with baby. I know, of course, that it wouldn’t necessarily be so easy for me and that it’s not even as easy as it looks in the picture. A photograph is just a moment frozen in the present tense. That mother—whatever else may befall her—will always glow with pride when looking at her child. The baby will always be making that ridiculously adorable face.
Whatever other musings it may bring up in me—when/if to have a child, how many, our own or adopted—looking at that picture makes me smile. And, after long, 11-hour day at work while sick with the flu or a head cold or something else that lingers and makes it impossible to breathe, I could use something that reminds me that sometimes it’s important to stop and enjoy the little things that make us smile: a vase filled with purple and yellow irises, Remy curled up on my chest, the Professor (who also just went out and bought my tissues; that’s true love!).