So many words have slipped through my brain, so many lush moments ripe with emotion have fallen into the black hole of my mind. I'll always wish I could go back and collect those words that came to me in the lonely moments of my hospital stay and the raw newness of being a mother but something tells me that to wholly live it without a pen was perhaps the way it was supposed to unfold.
Even now when I fall victim to the middle-of-the-night feedings, I think lovely thoughts that come with sleepless inhibition. It is the one reason I welcomed back the curse of Miss M's nightly show. Still, I don't write them down and though I promise myself to remember them in the morning, they slip away into the ether (literally about 15 years of late night thoughts and you would think I know better by now).
Aside from the sheer overwhelming absurdity of being a new mom, I wish I had the time to record my thoughts on a page so I could iron out what I am in thinking. My thoughts are like thick tar these days; so slow and tough on the recall. It’s all so much and so new. This little person gets me in her gravitational pull and I’m lost gazing in on her. She amazes and for the time being it seems more important than pouring over a keyboard. But the fact remains that time is already moving swiftly along. The sweet girl has outgrown her newborn clothes and now talks to me in grunts and smiles. We have these moments together and soon enough they too will feel like a dream. I trust I can get back to solid writing like the true friend I return to time and again. For now, there is nothing to do do but steal a moment away between the tenderloin timer going off in the kitchen and another round of breastfeeding or bottle cleaning and falling a little more in love with the new human in my life.
The challenge is to find the time to be the me I used to be when really I should be sleeping while she sleeps or cleaning something or researching daycares or a million and one other things that could come before my wants and needs - such is a mother's plight. D is a passing ship at times; Gingy, a long lost pen pal I haven’t wrote (still her loyalty finds me in the middle of the night when he is sleeping and she is screaming. G wakes up to sit at the top of the stairs across from me - us two the only ones mostly conscious). It feels clunky and indulgent to carve some space so the sweet nuggets of thought and gems of life don't slip so deep into space that I can't find them again. And yet if I don't stop now, they will be gone when I wake up years from now. How do I get back to mine? Perhaps a redefine is in order.
Even now when I fall victim to the middle-of-the-night feedings, I think lovely thoughts that come with sleepless inhibition. It is the one reason I welcomed back the curse of Miss M's nightly show. Still, I don't write them down and though I promise myself to remember them in the morning, they slip away into the ether (literally about 15 years of late night thoughts and you would think I know better by now).
Aside from the sheer overwhelming absurdity of being a new mom, I wish I had the time to record my thoughts on a page so I could iron out what I am in thinking. My thoughts are like thick tar these days; so slow and tough on the recall. It’s all so much and so new. This little person gets me in her gravitational pull and I’m lost gazing in on her. She amazes and for the time being it seems more important than pouring over a keyboard. But the fact remains that time is already moving swiftly along. The sweet girl has outgrown her newborn clothes and now talks to me in grunts and smiles. We have these moments together and soon enough they too will feel like a dream. I trust I can get back to solid writing like the true friend I return to time and again. For now, there is nothing to do do but steal a moment away between the tenderloin timer going off in the kitchen and another round of breastfeeding or bottle cleaning and falling a little more in love with the new human in my life.
The challenge is to find the time to be the me I used to be when really I should be sleeping while she sleeps or cleaning something or researching daycares or a million and one other things that could come before my wants and needs - such is a mother's plight. D is a passing ship at times; Gingy, a long lost pen pal I haven’t wrote (still her loyalty finds me in the middle of the night when he is sleeping and she is screaming. G wakes up to sit at the top of the stairs across from me - us two the only ones mostly conscious). It feels clunky and indulgent to carve some space so the sweet nuggets of thought and gems of life don't slip so deep into space that I can't find them again. And yet if I don't stop now, they will be gone when I wake up years from now. How do I get back to mine? Perhaps a redefine is in order.