Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The Lost Month

I'm emerging from a post-partum, new parent coma-like existence. I'm blinking. The world is bright.

I'm pretty sure I've been hibernating. All I remember of the last couple of months is condensed into vague recollections and blurred colors. I have evidence of emails I've sent - there are replies in my inbox. My camera holds photos I've apparently taken. There is clean laundry in dressers - I must have done it at some point. The dogs are still alive. I think Sweet Husband mostly had something to do with that. Even my ivy and shamrock on the kitchen table are still perched with leaves toward the sun - or window, in any event.

Lost is in its last season, and I think new parents everywhere can understand the show's premise: something cataclysmic happens. You're disoriented, stumbling around. You attempt to create a new existence. Strange noises come at you through the night while you sleep.

But I've been rescued off the island - Jack has begun to sleep through the night. A rare blessing, from what I hear, from a two-month-old. Slowly, random scenes are flickering across my vision, a few haphazard memories returning. Sweet Husband is present to confirm my suspicions.

"I remembered something this morning about you saying a few days ago that Steve called. Is that true, or did I dream it?"

"Oh, yeah, he called."




And there you have the results of sleeping two, three, four hours at a time, after going through the physical and emotional trauma of childbirth.

Then again, I may be off the island, but lingering effects remain. For instance, the other day, to my friend Angie:

"Why are we standing in this line again? OH. Right. Lunch."

For about five seconds I could not, for the life of me, recall what I was in line for. Even though there was a counter - with food - that smelled good - five feet in front of us.

Hello, brief introduction to dementia. See you again in fifty years, or the next time I have a child.

I'm lucky I even remember I have a blog.

But what's Lost can, indeed, be Found - even if I have to look for it so long I forget what I'm searching for.


vanilla said...

So. Cool. To. Have. You. Back.

The mists of time have blurred my memories of being a newly minted parent; and besides I'm sure the Mother endures much that Daddy doesn't. And yet he is in this thing, too.

Anonymous said...

Hi, Sissy....
Welcome back!
(and that would be two months of coma, not one - just so you know :)
Love you much, Mom

Anonymous said...

I believe helter skelter fits this
part of life

Grandpa Glass