FTSF – The Memory That Haunts Me
The memory that haunts me is the one I do not have.
My memories don’t haunt me. I do not live my life with regrets. OK, maybe if pressed for something I would change, I’ll admit that I probably should have stuck with the piano lessons and taken better care of my teeth.
I don’t have dreams left unfulfilled and I don’t dwell on things I wish I had said or done. Life unfolds. It is full of choices and moments, each of them leading to the places and people that we are today. By and large, my memories are beautiful ones.
But there is one memory that goads me because, for me, it doesn’t quite exist.
I do not remember much of my daughter’s birth day at all.
It’s not for lack of trying and it’s not like I wasn’t paying attention – hardly an experience one fails to notice, regardless of how it goes down. The problem is, that our birth experience did not go as planned and there is much about that day, those events, the hours, days, and weeks that followed that I simply do not hold in conscious memory.
I’m not here to tell you a gruesomely detailed birth story. Let’s go with the short version. I was marked – sort of hilariously to me now – as a high-risk pregnancy due to my “advanced maternal age,” and its offshoots. Please. Despite my high-risk status and that glaring orange sticker on my file, the pregnancy went well enough. I couldn’t stand the sight or smell of toothpaste or leftover meat. I ate filet mignon and Kraft Easy Mac pretty much exclusively for about three months. All of the things the doctors worried about were completely under control. In fact, I came out on the other side healthier and in better shape than when we started.
My labor was induced for plausible reasons but against my personal better judgment. Let’s just call it a hunch. Zilla’s birth process did not go as planned. A number of factors came together in one perfect storm of circumstance that led to an emergency C-section after a very long and fruitless period of active labor. This much I remember, but that is about the point at which my memory fades. From this point forward, I remember only tiny snippets of detail. I was vaguely aware that something was going wrong, but then…it’s gone.
What memory I do have of the next few hours and beyond are largely from being told afterward what happened. We stayed in the hospital nearly a week and during that time I remember a takeout meal or two brought to me, a movie on the TV in the middle of the night, and one moment where I held Zilla and realized she was there and she was ours and she was perfect. As bizarre as it sounds, the rest I’ve had to piece together from other people’s experiences.
I’ve spent plenty of time since then talking to family, friends, doctors, and my husband about the whole experience. What happened? Why can’t I remember it myself? Selective memory? A post-traumatic stress reaction? I don’t know. I’ll likely never know any more than what I’ve gleaned from those who were there and who cared for us.
For a very long time, it haunted me for various reasons. In some ways, it still does today. It’s strange and sort of terrifying to have missing memories, even if they have been sort of penciled in for me. It is frustrating that I am unable to retrieve them for myself, no matter how I try. I have prayed, “Please God let me remember…I need to know this for myself.” But maybe I don’t.
Perhaps the reason it goads me is that I feel like I should remember more, remember better – especially something of such great import in our lives. I have beat myself up about and come up with a hundred ways it’s my own fault I can’t remember. But it’s not. And in those moments I have to remember to be compassionate and gentle with myself, to allow the whole thing to settle back into proper perspective, and to focus on what I do know for certain:
We are here. We are alive. We are making beautiful memories together. And these memories can haunt me all they like. These I will always remember.
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I get this and I think a lot of moms will. You are not alone in labor amnesia. I joke it’s the only way most of us would have more children 🙂
Thanks for saying that, Kerri. I really feel like “OK, so this happens to other people, too.” You could be onto something with that theory, too.:D
It’s sad that you’re unable to remember that day–but memory is a tricky, elusive thing. For me, it’s the first 3 months or so of our daughter’s life that I have trouble remembering. I think it’s part exhaustion (she refused to breastfeed, so I had to pump every 2 hours around the clock) and part depression. But she’s nearly 21 now, and the memories we’ve made since that time are worth so much more to me than those early months.
I definitely think exhaustion has a lot to do with it in our case, too. My body really struggled to heal after the C-section, etc.
Ah, breastfeeding – the great horrid debate. Yeah, we had issues with that, too, for several reasons. Just mentally and emotionally the whole thing was rough, never mind the physical complications.
I totally agree with you that the memories we continue to make are valuable and important. Twenty-one! I can’t even think about that in my head…having enough trouble with six!
I remember bits and pieces of my labor with our oldest. Our daughter I wasn’t there — I was supposed to be but her birthmother did not contact the agency and had decided to parent only to result with us getting the child five weeks later. And I was their in the OR for our youngest son’s birth by C-section. I probably remember his most of all. Maybe because we had tried for so many years to have children.
I think the whole thing is fascinating – what people remember, what they don’t, and why. I definitely think that circumstances can make us keenly aware of certain things.
Memory is a tricky, tricky thing. One of my best pals cannot remember anything before the age of 8. Her parents were unhappy in their marriage and so perhaps it is a blessing but she doesn’t see it that way. She wants to remember, to be able to tell her four kids about her life as a young child. The lack of memory goads her as well.
Makes you wonder why we remember certain things (or don’t). The brain is a fascinating thing. I understand the frustration your friend feels. I would love to tell Zilla every single thing I felt about that day, but I can’t. But we have a good version of the tale that she knows and she likes her story. She knows that the certain not great things happened, but getting to take her home was awesome.
Yes! Your final sentences say it all. I do not mean to belittle your experience by saying this, but how I’m thinking of it is that it’s sort of like a wedding day, in that it’s just a day-ish and its the relationship for years afterwards that is worth treasuring and remembering, not the actual day it all began.
It doesn’t belittle at all, Katy, and I think that’s a great comparison. Truth is that I don’t remember some of the finer details of that day, either. It was a day. And I was sick as could be with walking pneumonia. I’m lucky I was upright! In the end, it won’t matter – it doesn’t really matter. The moments since then do. Thanks for coming over!
Lisa, I think I can relate to this journey…honestly bad at remembering exact things, but will be there thick n thin throughout the journey…like some kind of amnesia. Maybe we have too many things on our plate…
xoxo
I certainly had a lot on my plate that day, Ruchira! That’s for sure. 🙂
This is awesome, Lisa. I remember only pieces as well. I remember waiting, and being annoyed by it. My husband leaving the room when I got mad at him for laughing when I farted and when I peed on the nurse’s arm while pushing. But so much of it is just surreal. I truly believe that you do not need to remember and that you should forgive yourself for not. It was probably a lot due to whatever they gave you to do the c-section so quickly. You are here. Zilla. Memories. Love. That’s what matters. I do love this post though. Your honest and words and heart. So much heart. Thanks for linking it to Finish the Sentence!!
Thanks, Kristi. What I’m finding out by putting this out there is that I am not alone in this! Honestly, I really thought I was unique in this. Maybe because I don’t really talk about it with people much. Surreal is a good word. No idea what they gave me, but whatever it was wore off before they had Zilla out because it took so very long to get her. At that point, they put me under general.
The Hub and I were talking about this post and the comments this afternoon. I truly just said to him a couple of hours ago that I definitely have made it my fault somehow and that I felt like it was something I had done wrong. I know in the logical part of my brain that it isn’t true and I do need to forgive myself for it. You’re so right and look at our great minds thinking alike! 😉 Thanks for your words – they mean a lot. Always.
Fascinating what memory does. Maybe it’s good you don’t? I don’t know. But here’s the thing: SHE won’t remember any of that either. She’ll remember all the moments you are her for her NOW.
It is. And I agree that it may be good that I don’t. Maybe things are missing for a reason. You’re very right about the fact that she won’t remember it – of course not. And I truly don’t think she’ll grow up and say “wow, my Mom can’t remember anything about my birth.” Hardly. It is the now that’s important. And truly, it bothers me mostly because I just can’t retrieve it myself – feels like a brain fail, you know? That’s frustrating.
So your lack of clear memories isn’t surprising, given the trauma of going through an emergency C-section. I’ve never had one while my kids were being born, but other friends of mine have, and it can be frightening. All of the extra anesthesia that you get, plus the worry over your baby. No wonder that details were fuzzy. I agree with the other commenters that it isn’t your fault in any way and that you’ll build lots of other memories with your child!
Yes, really not surprising. It was quite a day.
For me it’s not the births, but other small things about my children’s early childhoods that I can’t remember and feel like I should. I suppose we can only hold so much in our heads, even if our hearts want to hold it all.
You’re exactly right, Dana. Well said!
My sticker was red, and it had AMA in GINORMOUS letters on it….
I could have written this post! Except for the labor part. I didn’t have labor. We refer to Emma’s birthday as the day she almost killed mommy, which makes her furious. I need to find the post I wrote about it and send it to you.
Glad you and Zilla were both fine. I’m like you; I don’t spend a lot of time on shoulda, coulda, wouldas. I do sometimes wish I had gone ahead and gone to nursing school, but oh, well.
Yes, I would love to read that one, because I don’t actually think I’ve seen that one. We could absolutely call Zilla’s birthday the same thing, but I suspect she’s a bit young to appreciate the humorous sentiment. Do send it – and the hamster one, please? The Hub wants to know why you have hamsters in your freezer.
I sometimes wish I would have stuck it out in high school science and taken physics. But pffft. Whatever.
This is just lovely. I read it when you posted it and kept thinking that I didn’t no how to comment and do it justice so I kept coming back. I bet ive read it four times by now. I have such hospital amnesia from really big admissions that I can identify with this on some level. I think its like any overwhelming moment you can only hold so much of it.
Lovely? Wow. Really? Thank you. You know I think that’s it…we can only take in so much of something so overwhelming. Some things, I think, are just beyond the grasp of our human minds. We just aren’t capable of holding that much.
You do have a memory of her birthday, but perhaps it isn’t the idealized version where you remember her birth clearly. However, you remember the day. But I know what you mean. There are some experiences I’ve had that have been blocked from my memory completely and it bugs me. My sister can’t remember much of anything before she’s 12 and we have no idea why. But, I know it bothers her.
Wow, before 12? That’s a lot. Who knows why the mind does what it does. So strange!
This is very well said and it hits rather close to home with me. My wife is also marked as a high risk pregnancy due to her age. It’s kind of weird actually because so far her pregnancy has been perfect – no complications or problems at all. Oh boy, I hope i just didn’t jinx it.
Anyway, I like your idea of forgotten memories. There are so many things from my past – all our pasts for that matter – that we just sort of forget. How many cool things have I done or things I want to remember are now forgotten? I guess I should be thankful for my good memory – it holds onto a past that I should hold dear.
There’s no jinxing, Steve. I think my issues had nothing to do with my age and everything to do with other people involved in the birth. I truly do. I keep you and your wife and your new baby in my prayers. Keep on doing what you’re doing!