I’m visiting my family in the UK and was looking through some old photo albums stored in my bedroom. I came across a sepia toned photograph of my mum smiling as she happily held me – a three day old baby – in her arms.
I must have seen this picture a handful of times in the past but today was different. For the first time, I noticed how young she looks. And seeing the happiness in her face as she looked down at her baby – me – filled me with warmth. I carefully pulled back the plastic covering, peeled the photo off the sticky page and took it downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, I grinned, hugged my mum and showed her the picture. I’ve always known I was born on a Saturday morning by caesarean section but I got to hear a little more today as mum nestled into the nook of my arm and recalled her first birthing experience. Continue reading Piecing Together Our Past