Recording All I Can

I am pretty obsessed with taking pictures and video of Annabelle (if we are friends on Facebook I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you this). I've had this phone since March and I have 522 pictures on it. Let me tell ya, they aren't of me and I'm not exaggerating.

See? 518 of 522. One of my coworkers/customers/friends walked by the other day, and seeing I was on the phone, just said a quick "How is the most photographed baby in the world doing?" He might not have been exaggerating. Anyway, I frantically try to record/document every minute of her life because I think every second is so cute and perfect.

The point of this post? Other than getting to shamelessly show off one of the cutest Annabelle pics in her Bellarina swimsuit as we call it? I wanted to share with you that I've been journaling for Annabelle since the day she came home (well technically, I was journaling for her before that too because I used to write to her when I was pregnant). I love looking back now at those first few days. Back then, in my sleep deprived state, I mostly wrote about her schedule and what I thought she liked and disliked. It was my way of getting to know her and reminding myself of things from day to day. For instance, looking back now, I remember that I couldn't figure her out in the evenings. All she wanted to do was be held or nurse. So that's what we did. I wrote about that at the time, thinking that my baby was never going to be able to make it through an evening without me or David holding her. Now I just smile thinking of those (long when you're in the middle of it) nights.

I also re-read the page I wrote 5 weeks ago when she slept through the night for the first time. You might think that page was written in triumph. It wasn't. I miss her so much during the night that I still wake up once or twice, stare at her and pray for a few minutes, and then go back to sleep. She probably knew she was going to have to drop that night feeding on her own or I would still be getting up with her when she was twelve years old to try to snuggle her, kiss her head, and sing "This Little Light of Mine."

I can only imagine what wonderful memories I will re-read 5 weeks from now or 5 months from now that at the time I thought I would never forget, but wouldn't have remembered if I didn't write them down. I am so happy I started writing to her - even just a paragraph every couple of nights - and I plan to keep it up forever.