The Rantings of an Amnesiac. . .

I know a blog is something you are suppose to keep up with far more often than I am.  I have so many stories, so many things in our lives to share, and then I sit to type and it's all gone. . . and I mean gone.  I know life has been challenging in the past few years, I can see it in the pictures I have in my files, I can see the lines hanging from my kids, the helmet on my son's head, the daily tantrums, the non-stop medicines, the constant appointments, etc, etc.  I know this is not the "normal" life that most lead, yet it is soooo normal to all of us.  It doesn't feel hard, or challenging at this very moment, because despite all of the "stuff", all is good.  I have developed a strange ability, liken to childbirth, to forget those times that ripped my heart out or caused me great pain.

I can honestly walk into the hospital for each admission and face it like it's just another day rather than relive the horror that has often manifested itself within those walls.  I can say hi to the staff and mean it, I can move in and out of those doors as easy as if it were a hotel and leave the crud behind. Most of the time I love this ability of mine.  It certainly makes the day to day grind easier and doesn't allow me to focus on the often uncertain future of my children.  It allows me to live in the moment and not in the past or the future.

BUT. . .I hate it as well.  I find that I don't retain the good memories either.  I can't remember all of the funny things my kids say, despite laughing for hours about them.  I can't remember holding my son for the first time in my arms.  Well, maybe that's not entirely true. . . I can remember the acts, I just don't have the emotional tie to those memories.  I need pictures to often conjure up a memory and then that memory is just that, a snapshot of the very photo I needed to recall it.  I often recant to Peter my frustrations with this, as he has the amazing ability to remember everything from sights, to sounds, and even smells.  Oh how I long for that with some of my memories, and then on the other hand, I would also have to remember the sights, sounds and smells of so many bad things as well.  Ask me a date or or time when something happened to anyone of my children and I'll whip it off without a problem... ask me the date of my best friends birthday or how old my parents are or a date when Peter and I went someplace together and had a great time, and there is a blank.  I often joke with the kids and tell them, "Please be careful with how much you talk to me, because there is a finite amount of room in my head and the important stuff, like your birthday, might slip right out." My fear is, this is actually true.  I remember the dates and times of diagnosis'.  The exact weights of kids and every test and scan any one of the kids have had.   But, struggle with the more abstract and enjoyable things. 

I am confident God has granted me this amnesia for a reason.  To be a good mom.  I couldn't possibly relive the traumas over and over and still be able to breath each day, so he allows them to slip away.  I can't be picky and ask for Him to select which memories stay, so I find myself coming to the realization, I need to start writing them down.  I need to start ensuring that all of the amazing, wonderful things are recorded right along with the crappy and downright scary things.   It'll be messy and probably not all that coherent to the rest of the world, but they're my memories and stories so I'm not worried about it at all. 

So it begins, soon anyways, the rantings of an amnesiac.

Take Care and God Bless,
Renee