By Natasha Nikkel
During my childhood, I had a cherished ritual of pulling photo albums from the bottom shelf of our living room’s coffee table. Among them, one book stood out to me the most—a pastel-covered gem adorned with a small drawing of a baby in a carriage. It was my very own “baby book,” containing photos of the day I was born, names of the visitors who stopped by, and their speculations about whose eyes or lips I inherited. As a child, I would sit, flipping through the pages slowly, captivated by the hospital bracelet delicately attached to one page or the tiny envelope safeguarding a lock of my bright blonde hair, which I would gently touch before placing it back inside. This book was the story of me.
Fast forward a few decades to the day when I became a parent myself. I welcomed a boy and a girl on the same day, at the same time. At the ages of 10 and 13, they were biological siblings whom my husband and I adopted from foster care. However, unlike my own baby book, they arrived with no photographs, no homecoming outfits, and no box filled with trinkets of days past. I grieved that there were so many holes from the past, things I didn’t know, stories I could not recount about their first steps or favorite toys.
Scientifically, we understand that most adults can’t recall anything prior to the age of three, and even childhood memories as a whole tend to be sporadic. In other words, every one of us, no matter if our childhood was happy, sad, or something in between, are at the mercy of the people around us to narrate our early life story. These stories shape us and become the bedrock for our self-identity. Those fortunate enough to possess physical objects from their early years often treasure them, storing them away in boxes, hoping to pass them onto the next generation. Recently, I was filled with joy to witness my first grandchild coming home from the hospital swathed in the same blanket my husband was wrapped in on the day his mother brought him home.
The objects themselves hold little significance, but the stories behind them are immensely powerful. They represent our lives, our love, our triumphs, and the obstacles we’ve overcome. They anchor us to a people and provide a place of belonging that spans generations. They are tangible proof that we were present, that we mattered. They assure us that someone saw us and cared. These stories provide solace for our deepest longings and answer our most profound questions—Am I loved? Do I belong?
I invite you to reflect on your role as your child’s historian. What do you hope your child will remember most about their childhood? About you? About themselves? Consider crafting a keepsake letter addressed to your child, noting their age, their current interests, what about them brings you delight in this season, how you felt on the day they were born, and your hopes and dreams for their future. This can be done even if they are a teenager. (In fact, it can be all the more powerful because they are a teenager.)
Ultimately, we are all children—children who are deeply and unconditionally cherished by God. And so, I offer this blessing for your family: May you and your child be blessed with a wealth of loving memories, and may you both truly know in the depths of your hearts just how beloved you are.
About Natasha Nikkel: Currently serving as the COO of Youthfront, Natasha wholeheartedly embraces the quest for the sacred amid life’s challenges. With a background in social psychology and a wealth of unique personal experiences, Natasha possesses a deep understanding of trauma and the transformative power of human connection. As a licensed foster parent, she and her husband adopted two children from the foster care system, ages 10 and 13 at the time. Beyond her role as a foster/adoptive parent, Natasha has served as a committed board member for multiple non-profit organizations in Kansas City. Guiding and mentoring start-up nonprofits holds a special place in her heart as she witnesses their journey from initial ideas-for-good to the tangible reality of becoming fully-fledged, formal organizations. She is especially passionate about organizations that work with youth from hard places.
Natasha serves on the Youthfront Christian parenting and caregiving resource team.
