My parents had loaded every single thing they owned in a moving van with the intention of leaving in the morning.

It was stolen. STOLLEN. Everything, every stick of furniture, every bit of clothing, every dish, every single thing.

The insurance money paid their student loans and they moved on. Of course, they have new furniture now.

What couldn’t be replaced were the baby pictures. My brother and I grew up without baby pictures or baby books or any memorabilia about our baby years.

When I was about 11 or 12, an aunt finally gave my mother a little photo album she had kept from when I was a baby. I was the first grandchild on my father’s side and everyone was excited. It was the only real evidence of what I might have looked like as a baby. I had black hair. I didn’t turn blond until later.

Just like Ainsley did when she was born. That seemed important when Ainsley was born – that we looked similar.

I always felt bad that no one had made a photo album of my brother. In fact, due to the transient military lifestyle my parents lived, few of our relatives even had memories or photos of him as an infant. I always thought not even knowing what he looked like as a baby effected his sense of self somehow.

Last year when his new wife was pregnant I started calling and emailing relatives to send any baby photo of him they could find. I knew when his daughter was born it would mean something to him if she had a similar feature or look as he did.

This entire entry is a clue. I’m giving away a special gift to one reader that comments. It’s part of our Blogtoberfest Giveaway.

I’m not really allowed to tell you what I’m giving away, but you’re gonna love it. If you leave a comment telling me what baby pictures mean to you, you could be the winner.

Post from: Blisstree

Baby Pics & Self