I captured my children’s lives through the lens during all the so-called “important” milestones—those staged events that felt monumental at the time. We instinctively document weddings, showers, births, birthdays, school performances, and graduations, convinced these are the moments we will cherish forever.
Recently, I stumbled upon a video of a school performance my son participated in over a decade ago. There he was, his adorable seven-year-old self, singing his heart out, periodically checking to see if I was watching. His joy radiated, and the little gestures I remember so well tugged at my heartstrings. But in an instant, I realized I had captured the wrong things. I had thought this concert was a big deal, one I’d yearn to revisit, only to discover that the most precious moments were completely unscripted and unexpected.
I took countless photos of our kids sleeping, whether they were sprawled on the couch, nestled in their car seats, or tucked in their cribs. Yet, I never once brought my camera into our bed. If I could make a deal with the universe, I would relive those mornings when all three of our children would clamber into our bed. We would drift in and out of sleep, waking to see little arms and legs in their pajamas draped across us—a moment that now lives only in my memories, and I crave it back.
My brother’s in-laws have a backyard that slopes down from their porch. One hot August day, they transformed the hill into a makeshift water slide. My young sons and their cousins thrilled as they slid down the slippery plastic, turning the lawn into a muddy paradise. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them happier. I want to be back at that bathtub, scrubbing the mud from their hair as they excitedly recounted that it was the best day ever.
Every year, I dutifully photographed my children on their first day of school, capturing their eager smiles alongside new haircuts, backpacks, and outfits. However, what I truly long for is a memory from a few weeks into one school year. My eldest, who typically loved school, climbed into my lap one morning and confessed he didn’t think he could go anymore and just wanted to stay home. In that moment, as he sobbed in my arms, I would trade every shiny first day photo for those precious seconds when my embrace was the safest place for him.
Prom pictures? I must have taken at least a hundred. Watching my son transform from a scruffy teenager into a handsome young man in a tuxedo was a sight to behold. The more elaborate the occasion, the more I clicked away. Yet, I yearn to relive the night he returned home late one evening, telling me about how he had gathered his friends to serenade his date into accepting his prom invite. Our relationship took a significant step forward that night, and I want to hold on to that moment forever.
I have often missed the mark by capturing the grand events while overlooking the quiet, intimate moments that truly matter. But parenthood is a journey without an end. Just the other night, my husband played soccer with our two teenage sons in the backyard. They laughed and joked under the fading summer light, and finally, after two decades of motherhood, I had the sense to put my camera down, breathe in the summer scents, and let my heart swell with joy at watching them together. It was a reminder that sometimes, the best moments are the ones we just experience, not document.
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In summary, while I have captured many “important” moments, I now recognize that the true treasures of parenthood lie in the unexpected, everyday experiences that shape our lives.