Sakura Bloom has started running their next series of Sling Diaries, where baby wearing families share photos, stories and reflections on life. Many of my friends (real life friends and internet friends alike) entered and many were chose to participate. Initially, I considered entering myself. I love the idea of being given a topic to write and reflect on, allowing me to slow down and focus on what it means to me and my family etc. I love the idea of taking adorable photos of my family and the close bond that baby wearing can create. But the longer I considered it, I decided against it. I still love the idea, and maybe I will consider participating in the next round. But in the end I feared that instead of being a beautiful bonding experience for our family, it might become another thing on a list of things I had to do and it might just frazzle me and in turn actually cause my family undo stress. Because, the truth is, I have enough on my plate right now. I’m a first time mom who works full time and sometimes tries to also manage a side business. And I want to spend any “off” time with Oliver and give him my full and undivided attention.
All that being said. When Sakura Bloom asked for entries they asked that participants write a short few paragraphs on the topic of curiosity. I wrote that entry and never did anything with it. I thought I might share it here and when the mood strikes me, I might share more of these thoughts or writings. Doing the sort of thing that I hoped that the Sling Diaries would allow me to do without the stress of time constraints or “having to do it”.
Here are my thoughts on curiosity:
As you grew and fluttered inside me, I wondered about you. What would you look like? Who would you be? Would you take on our traits or be a man of your own?
Once you arrived, I wondered whether your hair would stay dark and wavy like your mamas or whether it would slowly turn from black to blonde, the way your father’s sister’s did. What color would your eyes be when they finally settled from their soft gray? Would you forever remain this serious? Or had you simply not discovered your sense of humor yet?
Sometimes while nursing, I stare down into your clear blue eyes and just drink you in. All of your unknowns. And reflect on all of the tiny things I have already discovered, the little things that only your mother could know. Curiously staring into one another’s eyes in waiting. Waiting for the rest of our story to unfold and envelope us both.