When our first son was born 15 years ago, my husband Chris and I headed to the hospital with a small bag containing an outfit for the baby to wear home, a medium bag with all the things the Lamaze teachers told us to bring, and a large bag filled with camera equipment. We returned home with a well-dressed, adorable baby, unused pain management tools (a tennis ball and suckers didn’t hold a candle to an epidural), and very few pictures – almost no video.

We’d agreed to not record the actual birth, but I think we both assumed the extra film rolls, blank VHS tapes, and batteries were necessary. We counted on the well-stocked hospital gift shop to be a resource for even more camera supplies in case we burned through ours.

Last weekend I traveled to Phoenix, Arizona, to watch that baby boy who we brought home from the hospital 15 years ago row with his crew team in a regatta. (They kicked tail, by the way.) My brother and his wife live in the Phoenix area so I was also able to meet their first baby – my nephew. It was a wonderful weekend.

Pictures? Video? I returned to Utah with only a few snapshots, and no video.

As my son and his teammates raced by, I cheered, and then I remembered to take some pictures. I fumbled with my camera, then I fiddled with my iPhone, and within seconds they were rowing out of site.

Later that day, my brother and his wife were studying their infant son, as all new parents do. I enjoyed watching them. At one point my brother leaned over and kissed the baby’s head. I said, “Oh. Do it again so I can get a picture, Joe. That was sweet.” So he did.

Back to 15 years ago. I asked my husband why he didn’t film various events the day our son was born. “Where’s the footage of the nurses cleaning the baby? Of them handing him to me? When my parents walked in the room to meet him?” My husband paused and said, “I put the camera down because I decided it was more important to experience the moment, not document it.”

We have plenty of photos and video of our children – our lives – and I love looking at the images, hearing small voices or the voices of those who have passed away, remembering, and sharing with others. We intend to keep camera batteries charged and will stand at the ready for a photo opportunity. But there are times that I need to remind myself to enjoy the moment fully before I use the auto-focus feature on my camera.

Chrisy Ross is the author of To Mormons, with Love: A Little Something from the New Girl in Utah. She lives in Alpine with her husband and three sons, and blogs at ChrisyRoss.com.