Friday, January 2, 2015


I have this app on my phone that automatically goes back in time and presents me each morning with the "time hop" of the day.  The site is promoted as, "See your photos and updates from this exact day in history. Timehop helps you celebrate the best moments of the past with your friends!"

For the most part, I love my timehop. I fire up my Delorean and go for a "ride" each day. I have a ton of pictures on my phone and since the app works with those pictures, each day I am treated to photos of people and parties - some of which are now distant memories.

The app also works with your Facebook posts. It will pull old posts and present them to you like a little gift. It's cool to see what I posted ages and ages ago.

Or at least it was.  Around this time 4 years ago, I began to post "baby updates".  You know what they are, right?  Week 4: Your baby is the size of an acorn or Week 20: Your baby is the size of a rutabaga.   Well, I posted those updates EVERY SINGLE WEEK.  And now I get to relive them all EVERY SINGLE WEEK.

It's hard to see the naivete and the excitement that I so clearly felt when I made those posts. It's hard to not want to jump back in time and shake that mom-to-be and tell her to stop making her life so public.  

The thing is though, as hard as it is to read those posts, I am kind of glad that they exist. I am glad my journey was so public. I am glad I still write and share and possibly over share.  I am proud of the awareness I have brought to stillbirth and now to adoption. I am proud of the wife and mother that I have become, even in the face of such pain and sometimes despair.

To be honest, I am not sure I would change a thing. To have daily reminders now of the person I was back then is like a window into my own soul. I look through that window and see all sorts of things.  First and foremost, I see Allie.  

Tomorrow I will have a new Timehop waiting for me.  I almost can't wait to see what awaits.

Happy 2015.  To making memories in the future that will one day soon, become the past...

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