I’ve spent many of the past 24 hours or so grieving. And I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing until someone on Twitter pointed it out to me.
But yeah, this shoe thing? Is a grieving thing.
I lost a year’s worth of memories to the blur of PPD and adjusting to my new life as a working mother. I wasn’t great at being a working mother. I’m still only average at this whole thing.
I wasn’t great at printing out pictures. And printing all of those pictures out now would cost me a small fortune.
I wasn’t great at writing down the milestones. In fact, none of them are in paper and pen. This is the only baby book Joshua has.
The tangible items are all I have to remember anything.
There are bags and bags of tiny baby clothes in Joshua’s closet begging to be sorted. And I tell myself that I’ll do it. Someday. I’ll get to it.
But getting to it, sorting through those tiny baby things, means trying to remember. And realizing that I can’t.
Realizing that I can’t remember hurts.
Those shoes and onesies and tiny baby socks are the only mementos–the only proof–I have that those days happened. I am afraid that one day he will ask me what he was like as a baby and I will say “well, you screamed a lot.”
And that will be it. That will be all I can remember.
I’m so sad for that.
I’m sad for realizing that bit by bit, I will have to let go of the proof because these things will not last forever.
The memories are supposed to be the lasting things, but not for me.