As I drift off to sleep every night, my thoughts wander all over the place. Much of the time I start thinking of all the things I think I need to get done in the next day or so, and making lists. I have found that, at least for me, writing things down helps a lot. I have a pad of paper and a pen in my night table drawer where I jot down my reminder notes to myself. Sometimes I even look at what I have written down. I check things off as they get done.
With my impending brain surgery, November 28th, I have been thinking a lot about life. Mine, of course, but also my children's.
In my head I compose letters. One to each "child" (come on, they are all over 30 except for the 26 year old). I say how much they were wanted and imagined even before they were conceived. I imagine myself telling each one of them about how I learned I was pregnant with them, and how carrying and birthing was. And how we got to know each other ex-utero. In the world where they had to breath and eat and I had to love and feed them.
Then I wonder, should I write one, longer letter addressed to all of them. So they have all of the stories together. What if I start writing and don't finish. What if I leave one of them out?
Remembering my pregnancies brings me a lot of happiness. Happiness at the anticipation of meeting a new creation. Happiness with the memory of having my child's heart beating inside my body as my blood fed them and helped them grow. Wonder at who might be in there. A boy or a girl? Silly, funny, smart, compassionate. So much love and hope.
Every time we had a birthday, for many years, whenever Nick or I had a birthday. we would wish for another child as we blew out the birthday candles. We smiled secretly, knowingly at each other. I wonder if anyone caught our smiles? I wonder if they knew our wishes?
Do I have regrets? Yes. But no regrets about my babies. My children. Our children. And the adults they have become. They are all funny, smart and caring. They all have a sense of right and wrong, and they care about other people. And, they all have cats. Yes, I said cats. To me that means that they have open, loving hearts.
Mr. Rogers, on TV, used to sing a song "you were once a baby and then you grew and you grew and you grew and your grew and you grew. And now you can do what a baby couldn't do. You story is your history".