I'm now that mom.
I'm the mom who can't remember squat about what we ate for dinner last Tuesday or if I ran the dishwasher this morning, but if you ask me about any situation I faced during pregnancy or what happened on "the big day" of labor and delivery, I can give you an awesome play by play that would rival Kirk Herbstreit on a Saturday in the fall.
I've noticed something about this, it isn't just me. Most women have this magical gift to recount the love story that is the journey of their first steps into motherhood. Even if they are horrifically scary or tragic, or a hardcore oxytocin induced trance, they have got their stories down.
My grandmother is 93 years old and can't recall very much these days, but you better believe she can remember all of the times she gave birth and how she craved watermelon so bad in December of 1946 but it wasn't meant to be found at the stores in rural northern Ohio. My own my mother, who blamed me for ruining her body, recalled with bliss just how beautiful a 10lb. baby girl can be even though she didn't get to hold me for hours because she was so knocked out from her cesarean. "You walked to the nursery and said 'We'll do lunch.'" I remember her often saying. Even my mother-in-law recounts her late summer births without the aid of air conditioning with a smile. (There's a reason I only have winter babies, me hot + pregnant = torture)
My friends all share their experiences and journeys with me. My coworkers, elders, and family do the same. Even the sales associate at Gymboree recounted her early days as a mother with me in a very tender way last week while I was shopping. Being the over-sharer that I am, I have no problem telling my stories to those that want to listen. I'm eager to listen to others and hear about what they experienced.
This is a wonderful bond that us women get to share. It is way more special than swapping makeup or fashion tips. These stories are usually always met with empathy, love, compassion and support. Even if I begin to judge that mother or her experiences in some way by the end of her tale, I feel her and I are connected in a way and there is an understanding between us. That is a powerful force among women, one that helps us be the nurturers we are.
So, if you are ever around me and you say something along the lines of "Did this ever happen to you while pregnant?" Be prepared that you'll definitely get and answer and I'll be smiling on the outside so excited for you and my heart will be warm on the inside getting to recall a precious time in my life.
Just don't ask me when they cut teeth or how many words they said by 2. Ain't no momma got time to remember that! :)