All Alone in the Moonlight

I wish I would have written down the stories of my births.  I wish I would have recorded the dates of their "firsts", but I never thought I would actually forget.  It is funny how memories change and fade away.  Sometimes I feel like they are just within my grasp and if my brain could just reach a little bit more, I could capture that memory again.  It is kind of like when your child let's go of a balloon and it floats up to the ceiling.  You can see, you know it is there, but you reach up and realize you can just touch the balloons ribbon with your fingertips.  You stand on tip toe and you will your finger to stretch just a little bit more.  You touch the ribbon, you can move the ribbon, but it is just out of reach, you cannot grasp it and yank it down.  That is how I feel about my memories of my children's births and milestones.  I just can't get my brain-fingers around them and yank them out so I can enjoy them and play with them and share them with others.

Women, in general, love to share their birth stories.  They are akin to men's 'war stories'.  I can remember sharing the story of my first born's arrival with friends and strangers.  I know I would share the tiny details, the actual numbers of my blood pressure readings, my nurses names, what room I was in, the medication I was on.  Now, my clearest memory is of eating a hospital cheeseburger after giving birth and how great I thought it tasted.  I wasn't able to eat for quite some time due to the severe pre-eclampsia I had.

The same was true with my second babies birth.  I remembered it all and I could retell it a thousand times over, but the memories have floated too high above me to reach.  I do remember that my bed was on the right side of the room and I was amazingly happy and that the nurses would bring extra jell-o cups for my daughter Mia.

The birth of my two peanut butter cups was just over 4-months-ago and I already don't remember the details.  This one has seemed hazy from the get-go.  I wish I would have spent the time in my hospital bed writing everything down.  I know that isn't a very realistic thought since I was so tired and stressed and sick.  I spent most of my time sleeping and then crying and then crying some more, but I wish I would have written something down.  The days, the times I spent in the NICU with them, the milestones they reached, when they were taken off of their IV's, when they first drank from a bottle, when they first nursed, when they were taken out of their little plastic homes.

I love my little peanuts and I wish I could put all the memories together in a quilt and wrap myself in them, to curl up and spend time with them.  I will have to make do with the real life arms and real life legs, warm little bodies and rosy-hued cheeks, all curled up with me instead.  :)