I received a letter from myself today via http://www.futureme.org/. It was only a short email, I remember at the time wondering if it was a joke and doing the email more as a test.
I asked myself if D was still in the picture, if my mum was still alive, had my toddler finished toilet training, did my boys still hug and kiss me every day and did teen still tell me that he loved me. I asked myself whether I was playing roller derby, did I get in to uni, am I treating myself well.
It was interesting to read. I will write another one, a longer one, asking similaar questions I suppose, but going into more detail about what life is like right now.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
memories
I have been off visiting my best friend and her family this week just gone. She is the proud mum of two boys aged 6 and 2, and a brand new baby girl. I spent the week being her nanny, and chauffeur, and cleaner when required. The nanny bit was pretty tiring, as her 2 yr old is a bundle of mischief and had to be watched like a hawk. I had my younger two there as well and so 5 kids made for an energetic week.
I had lots of cuddles with the new baby too, and have subsequently found that it has brought up some stuff for me.
While I don't feel clucky, the wanting has returned. I would cradle her little head in my hand and marvel at how perfect she is, marvel at the miracle of life. I found myself recalling the feeling of being pregnant, that fullness, the ripeness of the body, the nudge from a foot, or hand, or head. I found myself wanting to experience it again. I also recall the exhaustion from lack of sleep, but how that was overwhelmed by the joy of a new baby.
It also had me thinking about my first baby. The ten hour drive home gave me plenty of time for mulling over old memories, and trying to recall much that I had forgotten. I get so frustrated at my poor memory, as it means I lose the opportunity to relive experiences.
Anyway, my thoughts were on the baby I had lost when he was 6 weeks old. He died of meningitis, at a time when it was very rare. I was only 15 at the time, and my partner must have been barely 18. We went to the Dr thinking he had chicken pox, instead, the Dr told us to get straight to the hospital as she did not know what he had but it definitely was not chicken pox. And so began living hell, the next 24hrs are hrs I would never want to relive. Such a great loss for such young people to bear.
That baby would have been turning 18 this year, and so I can not help but wonder what might have been.
Sometimes I feel as if I have lived multiple lifetimes in this one life. Sometimes I look back on it all and marvel that I am here now, moderately sane, and mostly happy. Do I thank my mother for my resilience? Did it come from having a supportive early childhood, or one where I was expected to look after myself to some extent? I think, knowing my mother, that the latter is more likely.
I had lots of cuddles with the new baby too, and have subsequently found that it has brought up some stuff for me.
While I don't feel clucky, the wanting has returned. I would cradle her little head in my hand and marvel at how perfect she is, marvel at the miracle of life. I found myself recalling the feeling of being pregnant, that fullness, the ripeness of the body, the nudge from a foot, or hand, or head. I found myself wanting to experience it again. I also recall the exhaustion from lack of sleep, but how that was overwhelmed by the joy of a new baby.
It also had me thinking about my first baby. The ten hour drive home gave me plenty of time for mulling over old memories, and trying to recall much that I had forgotten. I get so frustrated at my poor memory, as it means I lose the opportunity to relive experiences.
Anyway, my thoughts were on the baby I had lost when he was 6 weeks old. He died of meningitis, at a time when it was very rare. I was only 15 at the time, and my partner must have been barely 18. We went to the Dr thinking he had chicken pox, instead, the Dr told us to get straight to the hospital as she did not know what he had but it definitely was not chicken pox. And so began living hell, the next 24hrs are hrs I would never want to relive. Such a great loss for such young people to bear.
That baby would have been turning 18 this year, and so I can not help but wonder what might have been.
Sometimes I feel as if I have lived multiple lifetimes in this one life. Sometimes I look back on it all and marvel that I am here now, moderately sane, and mostly happy. Do I thank my mother for my resilience? Did it come from having a supportive early childhood, or one where I was expected to look after myself to some extent? I think, knowing my mother, that the latter is more likely.
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