Isn’t he the most beautiful baby boy?
Well, except for my own---of course (they do read this blog over my shoulder!).
It was an overcast winter day, but we still found some light near the window. That pale blue outfit, Daniel’s perfect skin, and the palpable love in the room all made me so eager to get home and edit this gallery.
Everyone has her own definition of what’s a cliché or cheesy. Even though I know those beautiful images of newborns hanging from branches are made by safe composite shots, I still find myself wanting to reach into the image and rescue them to safety. I’m not a fan of tutus or babies in buckets---though if that’s what parents want, these are their memories after all. But there are several shots that can never grow old for me---the small newborn in the strong hands of a father, two parents sheepishly looking at each other over the head of their new child, and this one—the adult finger caught in the grip of a newborn.
In a few weeks, that hand will have changed, in a few decades it will likely be larger than his mother’s hand. I can’t name the power it has over me---the power of images sometimes eclipses the power of words.