2 things- #momguilt and FOMO. . .
What is the DEAL? I have this anxiety that I should be doing more with James... It's his first Christmas! Doesn't he need a picture with Santa? What about one where we are decorating sugar cookies and there is frosting all over his face? But kids aren't supposed to eat sugar before they turn a year old and take part in the best SMASH cake ever, otherwise they will be addicted to sugar their entire lives, right? So, maybe we are supposed to play in the snow and drive around and look at the Christmas lights as we sip hot chocolate. But then again, why? I'm pretty sure James won't remember any of it and it all just gives me BUCKETS of anxiety...
And then there is a whole 'other enchilada- What if I forget?! What if he asks me one day those important questions about his childhood and my mind goes blank?! What if I don't remember the time he saw the tree for the first time and his eyes filled with joy as mine filled up with tears? What if I forget about the part where he got into something funny for the first time or crawled into the puppies' cages, or tried to steal their food, or played with the extension cords or whatever crazy-weren't-you-watching-your-kid moments.
Just trying to breathe and enjoy the moment is hard enough because I try and recall what I had for breakfast and I draw a blank. "You'll be able to remember the important things," I tell myself and then I try and think back on my wedding day or when James was born (SURELY THOSE ARE THE IMPORTANT MOMENTS) and I. Can't. Remember.
I remember they happened. I can barely recall the scenes that were snapped and captured with photos or videos. But I'm still remembering in third person. Was I even there? What was I thinking about in that moment? Lists. Lists of things to remember or things to finish or things I hate about that moment.
I try to remember my mom- things she said, the way she laughed. How she smelled- gone.
It's been a year and it's already gone. I'm terrified I'm going to wake up one of these days and not remember anything. Did I go to prom? No idea. What day was James born? What did I feel like? What was his favorite stuffed animal? Where did he like to hide?
There are so many things I want to remember, but it just won't stick. But if you'd like to know, I can still remember a story I wrote in second grade about Pookiegiggle and her friends playing Peloponesian Periball. (WTH?!) I can still remember that anaphase is when the cells pull away, and that song about Spanish prepositions. I can still sing almost every song from my 9th grade choir concert from honor choir, and I can remember the names of every one of my teachers. I still can recall several student numbers from previous classes I've taught.
I keep writing stuff down in journals because I know I won't remember later. Even the most real poignant moments of my life, because soon they will vanish. I hate that my memory is fading so quickly. I mean, things that happened this year, James was born. My first son was placed into my arms and I can scarcely remember what that felt like.
CUE the flashbacks...
I remember... being nervous about my wedding because there was so much to do, but my family came and straight up handled that. Getting ready and doing my own hair alone before the reception. Kara showed up a little later and helped me perfect a few things. I remember feeling like a million bucks as I put on the dress I had tried on so many times before. Asking people to record moments so I could remember them later on. Feeling angry because I felt like nobody cared. Showing up a little late for the luncheon and everything was eaten and then wanting to crawl in a hole and pout. I remember Tim telling me it didn't matter and that made it all better. Being in a room with lots of people who love me but I don't remember anyone specifically except for Tim. I waited for Tim before pictures and felt so connected to him even when we were in separate rooms. I didn't have any dessert at our reception and I felt really frustrated. It felt like dressing up and playing pretend. It doesn't feel real.
I remember... the phone call when my mom was in the hospital when she had an allergic reaction to the chemo. The texts on groupme when she first when in with issues. I didn't even know she was sick. The anguish I felt when she uttered "six months" and then a long pause afterwards. I remember trying to soak up the feeling of fall leaves when I called her on the phone almost 2 years later, one of the last times we spoke on the phone. Recording our moments in the redwood forest so I could remember them later. She got attacked by mosquitoes and kids started screaming. Writing song after song and poems and journal entries but never quite finding the words to say what I felt. Thanksgiving chats in CO and walks in the snow... Sneaking into her room to say goodbye one last time. Telling her I loved her and it not being enough. Praying she could be free and hoping I had the strength to be okay once she left. Not being okay. Not being okay. Not being okay.
I remember... the anticipation. The pains at 4 am- oh this is what labor feels like! Waves on and off and excitement. Feeling those kicks all the time like an ocean in my belly. Realizing James was sick about 12 hours after giving birth. Feeling outside of everything. Hot dog leg during labor. Wanting juice so bad and finally being able to take a few sips. Not knowing how to breathe or what to do. Feeling that warm baby on my chest. I guess he was there for an hour, but it felt like 3 minutes. Seeing him hooked up to tubes and monitors and hearing those phantom noises long after we left the hospital. The moment they handed him to me and he wasn't attached to anything anymore- he finally felt like he belonged with me. James had the sweetest little features and darling little nose. He didn't look like either one of us, more of a good blend. He had feet that looked like gorilla hands and the prettiest bright eyes. There was an endless sea of information about antibiotics and whatnot that I didn't understand until Nurse Mike. Bless him. I remember crying on the way home during that foggy, cold, rainy day drive. I felt like I was meant to be his mother, everything came pretty naturally, and at the same time I was so worried to mess it up. How would I cope? A longing for my mom... Oh how I wish and wish she could've been there. I read the letter I requested for her to write to me in the hospital that first night I finally got to go visit James in the NICU and I was angry. It left me wanting and floating. It didn't feel like anything I expected. I felt robbed. And then I was in this new group, this club I didn't want to be in- the NICU mom club. Constantly running up and down the elevator, pumping like crazy, and trying to be there and be okay myself at the same time.
I guess I remember more than I thought I did. But as I reflect back, I mostly remember being angry, frustrated, or disappointed. How depressing. How horribly devastating.
The good news is that ever since James was born, I have so many joyful memories.. James giggling in his sleep. James making that cheesy squinty Blinky face. James in the tub swimming like a little fish. James being grossed out by green beans and James getting excited to see friends at daycare.
There are good moments and there are bad moments. I tend to remember the most painful ones most clearly. I feel as though there is a giant weight being kept in the bottom of my heart squeezing my chest until I can't breathe. It lies waiting in the corner of the darkest parts of my mind until it can crush every source of light and wreck havoc on every kind word and gentle hand in my life. It's been so long since I've felt such heavy depression and I don't like it. I'd rather have a blank space, than a darkened one filled with despair and wrenching.
Ho hum. Someday, I'll learn how to creep forward in a less dramatic way. I hate it when time stops long enough to be aware of it-- it causes so much heartache in my life.
What is the DEAL? I have this anxiety that I should be doing more with James... It's his first Christmas! Doesn't he need a picture with Santa? What about one where we are decorating sugar cookies and there is frosting all over his face? But kids aren't supposed to eat sugar before they turn a year old and take part in the best SMASH cake ever, otherwise they will be addicted to sugar their entire lives, right? So, maybe we are supposed to play in the snow and drive around and look at the Christmas lights as we sip hot chocolate. But then again, why? I'm pretty sure James won't remember any of it and it all just gives me BUCKETS of anxiety...
And then there is a whole 'other enchilada- What if I forget?! What if he asks me one day those important questions about his childhood and my mind goes blank?! What if I don't remember the time he saw the tree for the first time and his eyes filled with joy as mine filled up with tears? What if I forget about the part where he got into something funny for the first time or crawled into the puppies' cages, or tried to steal their food, or played with the extension cords or whatever crazy-weren't-you-watching-your-kid moments.
Just trying to breathe and enjoy the moment is hard enough because I try and recall what I had for breakfast and I draw a blank. "You'll be able to remember the important things," I tell myself and then I try and think back on my wedding day or when James was born (SURELY THOSE ARE THE IMPORTANT MOMENTS) and I. Can't. Remember.
I remember they happened. I can barely recall the scenes that were snapped and captured with photos or videos. But I'm still remembering in third person. Was I even there? What was I thinking about in that moment? Lists. Lists of things to remember or things to finish or things I hate about that moment.
I try to remember my mom- things she said, the way she laughed. How she smelled- gone.
It's been a year and it's already gone. I'm terrified I'm going to wake up one of these days and not remember anything. Did I go to prom? No idea. What day was James born? What did I feel like? What was his favorite stuffed animal? Where did he like to hide?
There are so many things I want to remember, but it just won't stick. But if you'd like to know, I can still remember a story I wrote in second grade about Pookiegiggle and her friends playing Peloponesian Periball. (WTH?!) I can still remember that anaphase is when the cells pull away, and that song about Spanish prepositions. I can still sing almost every song from my 9th grade choir concert from honor choir, and I can remember the names of every one of my teachers. I still can recall several student numbers from previous classes I've taught.
I keep writing stuff down in journals because I know I won't remember later. Even the most real poignant moments of my life, because soon they will vanish. I hate that my memory is fading so quickly. I mean, things that happened this year, James was born. My first son was placed into my arms and I can scarcely remember what that felt like.
CUE the flashbacks...
I remember... being nervous about my wedding because there was so much to do, but my family came and straight up handled that. Getting ready and doing my own hair alone before the reception. Kara showed up a little later and helped me perfect a few things. I remember feeling like a million bucks as I put on the dress I had tried on so many times before. Asking people to record moments so I could remember them later on. Feeling angry because I felt like nobody cared. Showing up a little late for the luncheon and everything was eaten and then wanting to crawl in a hole and pout. I remember Tim telling me it didn't matter and that made it all better. Being in a room with lots of people who love me but I don't remember anyone specifically except for Tim. I waited for Tim before pictures and felt so connected to him even when we were in separate rooms. I didn't have any dessert at our reception and I felt really frustrated. It felt like dressing up and playing pretend. It doesn't feel real.
I remember... the phone call when my mom was in the hospital when she had an allergic reaction to the chemo. The texts on groupme when she first when in with issues. I didn't even know she was sick. The anguish I felt when she uttered "six months" and then a long pause afterwards. I remember trying to soak up the feeling of fall leaves when I called her on the phone almost 2 years later, one of the last times we spoke on the phone. Recording our moments in the redwood forest so I could remember them later. She got attacked by mosquitoes and kids started screaming. Writing song after song and poems and journal entries but never quite finding the words to say what I felt. Thanksgiving chats in CO and walks in the snow... Sneaking into her room to say goodbye one last time. Telling her I loved her and it not being enough. Praying she could be free and hoping I had the strength to be okay once she left. Not being okay. Not being okay. Not being okay.
I remember... the anticipation. The pains at 4 am- oh this is what labor feels like! Waves on and off and excitement. Feeling those kicks all the time like an ocean in my belly. Realizing James was sick about 12 hours after giving birth. Feeling outside of everything. Hot dog leg during labor. Wanting juice so bad and finally being able to take a few sips. Not knowing how to breathe or what to do. Feeling that warm baby on my chest. I guess he was there for an hour, but it felt like 3 minutes. Seeing him hooked up to tubes and monitors and hearing those phantom noises long after we left the hospital. The moment they handed him to me and he wasn't attached to anything anymore- he finally felt like he belonged with me. James had the sweetest little features and darling little nose. He didn't look like either one of us, more of a good blend. He had feet that looked like gorilla hands and the prettiest bright eyes. There was an endless sea of information about antibiotics and whatnot that I didn't understand until Nurse Mike. Bless him. I remember crying on the way home during that foggy, cold, rainy day drive. I felt like I was meant to be his mother, everything came pretty naturally, and at the same time I was so worried to mess it up. How would I cope? A longing for my mom... Oh how I wish and wish she could've been there. I read the letter I requested for her to write to me in the hospital that first night I finally got to go visit James in the NICU and I was angry. It left me wanting and floating. It didn't feel like anything I expected. I felt robbed. And then I was in this new group, this club I didn't want to be in- the NICU mom club. Constantly running up and down the elevator, pumping like crazy, and trying to be there and be okay myself at the same time.
I guess I remember more than I thought I did. But as I reflect back, I mostly remember being angry, frustrated, or disappointed. How depressing. How horribly devastating.
The good news is that ever since James was born, I have so many joyful memories.. James giggling in his sleep. James making that cheesy squinty Blinky face. James in the tub swimming like a little fish. James being grossed out by green beans and James getting excited to see friends at daycare.
There are good moments and there are bad moments. I tend to remember the most painful ones most clearly. I feel as though there is a giant weight being kept in the bottom of my heart squeezing my chest until I can't breathe. It lies waiting in the corner of the darkest parts of my mind until it can crush every source of light and wreck havoc on every kind word and gentle hand in my life. It's been so long since I've felt such heavy depression and I don't like it. I'd rather have a blank space, than a darkened one filled with despair and wrenching.
Ho hum. Someday, I'll learn how to creep forward in a less dramatic way. I hate it when time stops long enough to be aware of it-- it causes so much heartache in my life.
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