I have a habit of trying to take mental pictures. I want so badly to remember something forever that I try to burn the image into my memory. I soak it all in (how the light is falling, the temperature, what people are wearing, the sounds, how I’m feeling) so that when I want to go back there, I can. Sadly, this practice almost always fails. My mind remembers what it wants to. The one time it actually worked was when we left our house to go to the hospital to have DQ (the first time-we got sent back home once). I made a point to stand in the doorway and turn around and remember what the house, and we, looked like before she arrived. I remember every single detail. Where the couch was, how I felt (terrified), the sun shining in through the kitchen window and falling onto the countertops, birds and traffic. It’s all there.
We recently took down the crib, when we moved TM to a bed. I didn’t think I would have a problem with this as the room they share is small, and removing the crib would provide more play space. As it turns out, I pretty much lost it when my husband took the crib to the garage. Not really because TM is no longer a baby, but because I could not for the life of me remember what the room looked like before the he was here. I stood in the middle of the room and cried and shook because my memory failed me. They are 5 and 3 and I was certain that I had missed it. Every moment of the past 5 years were gone because my memory chose instead to remember arguing with DQ or wishing TM would go on the toilet, or meals they refused to eat. My husband came back up and tried to console me by jogging my memory with the details he never forgets. I finally remembered and all was o.k. again.