I wish I could capture Evan's face in the morning. As the soft gray-blue light begins to ooze around the shade, I look towards the middle of the bed and there he is, head on the corner of my pillow, body tucked neatly into mine. His eyes are closed and his little pink lips are puckered up. He is usually arching his neck, as though looking at something over his head, and I'm not sure how he sleeps like this. Today he was wearing his white, fuzzy pjs with the green frogs on them. They used to Erin's and then they were Megan's before they were stored away for the next one. Of course, she never wore them, so they sat in a box and waited--waited for this amazing little person to wear them as he snuggles close to my heart.
As the quiet of the morning unfolds into the chaos of the day, I take a few minutes to just look at this angelic face, so peaceful in the morning light. I watch his chest rise and fall with each amazing little breath. I have to hold myself back--the urge to pull him closer, perhaps even tuck him up inside of me, is great. (Of course, doing that would wake him up and I am realistic about not wanting to have a grouchy baby on my hands all morning.) But still, the feeling that surrounds him is so much more than love--he is a miracle, in the true sense of the word. He is the child that never would have been, but yet is because of Sophie. That tragic event that changed our lives forever led to this, this incredible little person who fits so perfectly into our family. How is that possible?? 10 months I have lived with him in my arms, 10 months I have watched this miracle unfold and still, I can't always believe he is real.
Anyone with any suggestions on how to take a picture in that gray-blue morning light without a flash, let me know. I want to capture him just as he is, and I'm not sure how to do that. How do you photograph an angel on Earth?