Any time I decide I’m going to work on writing an account of Gus’s birth, I end up in one of the following scenarios:
1. 8:00 p.m. I decide going to take my laptop to bed and just WRITE, dammit. But first, I need to take a shower so that I can just go straight to sleep after writing. Once I’m showered, I decide I’d rather read, and then I fall asleep.
2. Work is slow. I decide I’ll write a little bit. It takes me 15 minutes to remember my login and password. By the time I’m logged in, I’m no longer in the mood to write and read ALL THE INTERNET instead.
3. Work is SO BUSY, but my brain is full of sentences and important recollections I need to write down! I log in and write down a jumble of sentences and paragraphs in no particular order and save the post as a draft.
I currently have about 10 drafts.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to write it down, what I can remember of it. Before I can’t remember anything. It wasn’t a great birth. It sort of even sucked. But it’s important to me to remember everything. I run on nostalgia. When I am struck with a memory of this less-than-perfect-yet-still-beautiful-to-me birth experience, my chest swells with love and anxiety and butterflies trembling and, well, maybe also some raptors beating their wings alarmingly And I don’t want that beautiful raw feeling to fade.
So stay tuned.