Memo to Self
I want to remember everything. I do my best to remember everything. To place certain moments and images and sounds in a certain corner of my brain where I can keep them safe forever. I package them up, tied neatly in a bundle, and deliver them safely to that one little corner. And I give my brain instructions, "keep these memories safe for me, brain. This one, this memory right here is important to me. I need this one, please keep it safe."
But see, my brain, it doesn't listen. Or rather, it probably does listen, but simply thinks to itself, "pfftt. suuuuurree. That memory, I'll keep that memory safe for you. Yeah. Right. Like I have nothing better to do." So I leave my memory in that safe corner, and my brain promises that it will keep it forever. Until I turn my back, probably to capture another memory. And do you know what my brain does? It takes that special little bundle, and it MOVES it right over with the rest of my memories. So all the memories I have, the good and bad and peacefully mediocre, end up all mixed in together so that I can never tell which ones I get to keep and which ones I won't even know I had.
I do my best to keep records of the really special events. The milestones and moments that really mean something. I take pictures and I write words, just in case that corner of my brain won't keep the memories I really need. But the problem is, the magnitude of the event doesn't necessarily match the magnitude of how badly I want to keep the memory. The biggest memories I want to keep aren't really big enough to warrant pulling the camera out or making sure to write down.
I want to remember how it feels to come in the door at the end of a long day at work and see Trip's face light up in a smile as he points at me and laughs. I want to remember how he laughed so hard last night when I sneezed that he gave himself the hiccoughs. (Okay, so really it might have been my repeated fake sneezes after the one real sneeze that made him laugh so hard. But when an action you do makes a baby giggle at all, the only thing you want to do is keep that laughter going. So you fake sneeze for 5 minutes straight, and thank goodness that no one else is around to see you.)
I want to remember my favorite things about being pregnant. Like how I can actually justify wearing leggings as pants, or how when I feel this baby moving inside, I can actually see it moving outside. Waves and ripples cross my tummy with every kick and every turn. Which is both a little freaky, but also really cool. Plus, it's the only way the baby has of letting me know he or she is doing okay in there. Just kickin' it (literally). I want to remember how I look, how big I got as each new week passes. But I have a problem with posing for pictures. I just feel silly. I see other peoples staged self-portraits and think, "oh, how cute!" Look at the outfit she chose to wear, and how the blue shirt stands out against the orange background really well! And look how big her tummy is here, and how big it is just a couple weeks later! And then I try to take photos myself....and just feel silly.
I don't see the photo as a whole, I just see how ridiculous it is that I'm standing behind the front door because that's the best light I could find in the house. And how down by my feet is the rock and someone snuck into Toff's backpack on a hiking trip eight years ago - but he won't let me get rid of it. Because it's obviously a really sweet memento of the practical joke one of his friends played on him. Eight years ago.
But I suppose, who am I to judge? Maybe that's just his way of placing special memories in the safe corner he has in his own brain. And maybe these photos, no matter how I feel about them now, are all I need to take one memory out of the pile of all memories, and keep it safe.
xox
Cara
ps - Thanks, Mom, for keeping me well dressed with all the awesome maternity clothes you send me from the States! And thanks Old Navy, for writing "Hello Pretty Mama" on the tag where the size would normally go. Because pregnant women just don't really need to be reminded what size clothes it is that we fit into now. xox
But see, my brain, it doesn't listen. Or rather, it probably does listen, but simply thinks to itself, "pfftt. suuuuurree. That memory, I'll keep that memory safe for you. Yeah. Right. Like I have nothing better to do." So I leave my memory in that safe corner, and my brain promises that it will keep it forever. Until I turn my back, probably to capture another memory. And do you know what my brain does? It takes that special little bundle, and it MOVES it right over with the rest of my memories. So all the memories I have, the good and bad and peacefully mediocre, end up all mixed in together so that I can never tell which ones I get to keep and which ones I won't even know I had.
I do my best to keep records of the really special events. The milestones and moments that really mean something. I take pictures and I write words, just in case that corner of my brain won't keep the memories I really need. But the problem is, the magnitude of the event doesn't necessarily match the magnitude of how badly I want to keep the memory. The biggest memories I want to keep aren't really big enough to warrant pulling the camera out or making sure to write down.
I want to remember how it feels to come in the door at the end of a long day at work and see Trip's face light up in a smile as he points at me and laughs. I want to remember how he laughed so hard last night when I sneezed that he gave himself the hiccoughs. (Okay, so really it might have been my repeated fake sneezes after the one real sneeze that made him laugh so hard. But when an action you do makes a baby giggle at all, the only thing you want to do is keep that laughter going. So you fake sneeze for 5 minutes straight, and thank goodness that no one else is around to see you.)
I want to remember my favorite things about being pregnant. Like how I can actually justify wearing leggings as pants, or how when I feel this baby moving inside, I can actually see it moving outside. Waves and ripples cross my tummy with every kick and every turn. Which is both a little freaky, but also really cool. Plus, it's the only way the baby has of letting me know he or she is doing okay in there. Just kickin' it (literally). I want to remember how I look, how big I got as each new week passes. But I have a problem with posing for pictures. I just feel silly. I see other peoples staged self-portraits and think, "oh, how cute!" Look at the outfit she chose to wear, and how the blue shirt stands out against the orange background really well! And look how big her tummy is here, and how big it is just a couple weeks later! And then I try to take photos myself....and just feel silly.
 |
| 26 weeks! |
 |
| 14 weeks to go! |
I don't see the photo as a whole, I just see how ridiculous it is that I'm standing behind the front door because that's the best light I could find in the house. And how down by my feet is the rock and someone snuck into Toff's backpack on a hiking trip eight years ago - but he won't let me get rid of it. Because it's obviously a really sweet memento of the practical joke one of his friends played on him. Eight years ago.
But I suppose, who am I to judge? Maybe that's just his way of placing special memories in the safe corner he has in his own brain. And maybe these photos, no matter how I feel about them now, are all I need to take one memory out of the pile of all memories, and keep it safe.
xox
Cara
ps - Thanks, Mom, for keeping me well dressed with all the awesome maternity clothes you send me from the States! And thanks Old Navy, for writing "Hello Pretty Mama" on the tag where the size would normally go. Because pregnant women just don't really need to be reminded what size clothes it is that we fit into now. xox
Awww, so glad you're blogging again! Love your writing style/material or maybe it's the material/style...hmmm. I am also glad you've found Toff's rock, there was a bit of a worry when I was there or where it had adventured too! Memories are important, and I believe that you are surrounded by enough family & friends that will prompt you...."remember when you did, said, and then, happened...." <3 <3 <3 you...but keep writing/picture'ing/blogging your memories! XOXOXO
ReplyDeletePS. You were a beautiful expectant Mom....for all three gorgeous people you brought into this world!
ReplyDelete