If you’ve ever looked back over the photos in your phone and realized that you have no recollection of a certain moment that was captured on film, you know it’s an odd sensation. For me, that used to happen when I had a little too much fun out one night, and there was great sport in trying to recollect what precipitated a certain image. Good times, lots of drinks, some weird dudes.
But I found this picture on my dad’s phone tonight over dinner. It was innocent. I was trying to find a good shot to make his wallpaper on the iPhone I got him for Christmas last year. I have no memory of this moment. My first real interaction with Oscar. Gone. Or as it if never happened. And the strangest thing is how I remember sitting at Oscar’s bedside, nursing or pumping or whatever thing I was doing at the time and hearing some woman talk nonsense about this or that. I would draw the curtain and see a stretcher with a woman on it. It was plain that she was medicated, and that she was trying to process all that was happening to the birth she had imagined through her babbling. I even asked Amerissa if I had such a visit with Oscar and she assured me I had. But I didn’t remember it.
And now there’s proof. And it made me cry tonight. Tonight as I was holding it all together. ALL day I did. I started with half a yoga class (all I could squeeze in before O’s feed at 9:30), soccer, more soccer, a family visit from Fran and Lori, the pumpkin patch, my dad’s visit, pumpkin carving. All of it. I wore a smile. But when I happened upon these photos I ran out of juice. I am out of juice. I can’t really believe this is happening, or has happened. Why? Why this baby? Hasn’t he proven his strength enough? Haven’t I? Surely some awful thing I did caused this. Some moment of maternal incompetence.
There will be a day where this doesn’t matter. But I am glad that I am writing this down to demarcate its absence. The loss of the moment. The loss. It will fade into oblivion once Oscar is plastic sword fighting his brothers and I am yelling at him to take it outside or downstairs. OUTSIDE OR DOWNSTAIRS! But now its the loss. I would do anything to make Oscar whole. More whole. He’s perfect. But you know what I mean. 40 weeks whole. Big fat healthy no hernia having whole. And I want my moment back.