A couple nights ago, Meg started crying at 11 p.m. so I went in and rocked her. As we rocked I thought about how sad I’d be if I never had another toddler to rock back to sleep. Its such a wonderful, perfect feeling. I don’t want it to end! And to never have another little tiny baby to hold and breastfeed and change itty-bitty diap….wait, I don’t remember any of that. Like, at all. I sat there trying to remember breastfeeding. I only stopped FOUR months ago, you’d think I could remember. But I honestly couldn’t. I knew how its done (more so than I did before I’d ever done it) but I couldn’t remember actually doing it. (Pumping, I unfortunately remember – but that was like torturing myself three times a day, so I guess it takes longer to forget. Plus, I only stopped pumping three months ago).
I think my main problem was that I’d been so sick and was still kind of out of it. I have a hard time remembering last week, so I guess it wasn’t surprising I didn’t remember last year. Now that its been a couple days, I’m finally starting to feel better and work has kicked my brain back into gear. I remember more now, but Meg’s entire life is rather hazy in my memory. Way fuzzier than the previous several years. I guess that’s what sleep deprivation does to you.
I know many people say the only reason people have multiple children is because they forget the pain of childbirth and the newborn phase (i.e. no sleep). I knew I’d eventually forget the pain, but I didn’t think I’d forget everything. (Actually, I can remember the pain better than anything else. How crappy is that?) At this point, my knowledge of childbirth and caring for a newborn seems theoretical. Like, of course I know what happens (who doesn’t?), but I’ve never been through it myself. It’s a very weird feeling. Maybe I’d better go watch the video Thomas made of Meg’s first year. I’ll see if anything rings a bell.