I have a confession to make. Originally, I intended to begin and publish my first blog post on June 23. That was almost 2 months ago now. I’ve been writing this first post in my mind for almost 3 months, and I think it’s time to actually write it down and publish it.
On June 23, 2014 my little girl Edith was born. Before she was even born, she was God’s special gift to me because I really thought it was my destiny to have boys. When the ultrasound technician announced we were having “a diva,” I was shocked. Because my son Frederick was born via an emergency c-section, I expected the best but prepared for the worst when thinking about Edith’s birth.
Her birth day came and the labor and delivery were “textbook” according to my OB – no complications, no problems. But once she entered the world, she was completely unresponsive. The technical term is “cerebral decompression.” For reasons still unknown she did not breathe or have a heartbeat for 6 minutes. She was kept in the NICU for a week and every nurse and doctor called her rapid recovery a miracle. Some moments are tattooed in my mind. The moment she was pulled off me and 10 doctors rushed in will remain with me forever as well as the first time I saw her after she had been admitted to the NICU.
There are other moments I wish I could remember. Frederick’s birth was a blur even as it was happening. We were at the hospital for a total of an hour before he was born. The cord was wrapped around his neck twice and grew tighter with every contraction. I still can’t remember the first time I held him or saw him. I have a picture of it, and so I remember through this photo.
Memory and moments are funny. We remember things that happen through whatever lens of emotion or thoughts we had at that moment. Sometimes we reminisce and nostalgia takes over causing us to think more fondly of a time than it actually was. There are moments in time when I intentionally try really hard to take it all in because I know memory is fleeting and can be faulty.
Marcel Proust writes, “Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.” Sometimes what we remember and how we remember it changes the way we think about the past and live in our present. My only hope is that I’m able to fully embrace the moment I’m in because there’s no guarantee I’ll remember it for what it truly is.