A couple of weeks ago I thought I lost my iPhoto library. I had spent an hour looking at online tutorials, following the step-by-step process of trying to transfer all of the photos from my MacBook Air onto a large external hard drive. I had purchased it the day that my brand new Air nearly crashed from trying to upload too many files… So basically in order to ensure something like this never happened in the first place. My pictures are the one thing I never, ever want to lose. Ever.
When the library revealed zero files transferred even after I double and triple checked before deleting on the computer, a pit in my stomach formed. These were only supposed to be my “backup photos”, the ones that were taken on the side when my big camera wasn’t involved. And yet they were so much more than that. I had almost lost all of those moments that happened in the meantime. The ones that happen in an instant, when the only camera I have the time or hands for is the one in my pocket, on my cell phone.
The raw moments. The ones I took of myself, knowing that they wouldn’t get taken otherwise. The ones for only me to remember in the future; Unkempt hair, without makeup, clutter in the background, life in the foreground.
The candid moments, when the best photo in the stack are the ones blurry with movement, with the actual life happening on the other side of the lens.
Her first bath. Her first doctor visit. Her first trip out of the house so that I could meet with the lactation nurse. How the camera doesn’t show that I was a nervous, emotional and physical wreck.
The days that slipped into evenings that turned into nights that lasted an eternity. This little babe and me, bound to each other in a way that we’d never be again.
The glimpses of the challenges with Beau and his slow adjustment to Evangeline’s arrival.
His heartbreak, my devastation. Our paralleled elation.
All of these unpolished moments, perfect in their honesty and yet leaving just enough of the story for my memory to fill in the rest.
For so long I’ve regarded my cell phone camera as a backup to my mind, to keep the moments stored until I’m ready to process them once again. It’s somewhat of a relief to rely on devices to fill in when I think my memory might fail me, but I’m mostly pleased to have some captures of these fleeting minutes.
In the end, I was able to recover the iPhoto library. I’m not sure how, but it’s there and I cried when I saw all of those messy, beautiful moments.