Tell Me About When I Was a Baby..

I woke the other morning to the sound of fruit being chopped and my 4 year old daughter's voice. She was asking my husband about when she was a baby. Rather than tell her, he decided to show her. He plugged the camcorder into the computer, brought out her birth video, and let the memory unfold in front of her.

Blurry eyed and exhausted, I pushed back the covers, and followed the pull toward Memory Lane.

I watched myself as a drugged, helpless, almost lifeless, being, go through the drama of delivering twins. I watched the fear play across the face of my husband, I watched medical professionals, move with frenetic efficiency around me, and our babies. I watched almost transfixed, traumatized.

I was surprised to feel such diverse and conflicting emotions simultaneously, as my eyes were glued to the screen. I seemed to be having an odd out of body experience, as though I were watching someone else, a different family, one that looked an awful lot like mine. More than anything, I felt a momentary panic, an almost desperate need to seperate myself from the scene, from that stage, yet perversely drawn to it at the same time.

I had an overwhelming desire to not go back. I didn't want to remember, the pain, the anxiety, the uncertainty, the sleeplessness. It struck me then, that time is merciful and that the memory softens what was reality. Moving on, is almost always better. I want to remember that.

I want to remember, when I'm having those fleeting feelings of my life slipping away that it isn't slipping a way, it's just entering a new chapter.

I also want to remember that each stage has it's sweetness and hardship, and that to live fully I need to embrace and learn from both. I want to parent with grace, for myself and for my children, so that, when I stroll down memory lane, either in my mind or on screen, I can feel a sense that I embraced the moments while I was in them, a sense that I was present, and that the next stage demands that I be present as well.

Regardless of how old my children are, how they got here, or what their birth experience was like.... I'm a mother, and that is a gift, a gift I plan to cherish.