I fight against it, but anger and disappointment make frequent appearances in my mind. A Facebook memory pops in of Audrey as a toddler singing her heart out. I'm reminded simultaneously of how wonderful my big kids were when they were tiny and also of how painful it is to be denied the experience of watching Talia grow and develop. I had it twice I say to myself. Some don't get even that much. I had it. I was there for my kids every joyous moment of life. I savored it as much as any hectic mom can. They are still here, they are still growing , they are providing me with wonder and joy. But these joyous memories are now being morphed into sad comparatives. Look what they did and what Talia still can't do, won't ever do. My ability to be present is pickled with the brine of sadness and the distraction of what could have, should have been. It's not a helpful path for my mind to travel down, but the mind isn't always a helpful tool.At a playground with Audrey on a monday morning I watched her joyously and expertly move from one piece of challenging equipment to the next. Talia stayed at home with a babysitter. I feel both the regret of not having her with me on this beautiful day and the simultaneous gratitude of not having her with me so I'm spared the need to talk to other "new" moms. I feel the sadness of seeing children her age delight in challenging their bodies and I feel distant from the look of exasperation, pride and exhaustion on their mothers faces. I'm one of them, yet apart. The idea of mom small talk curdles my stomach. The possibility of obvious pleasantries like "how's it going" or "how old is your daughter" makes my body tense.I do better when hanging with older kids. I do better when pretending Audrey is my youngest kid. Keeping Talia a perpetual baby in my mind. A being who needs only the comfort of my arms and isn't spending her days crying for lack of playground time. She knows only this world of limited sight and limited mobility. She is happy for time spent on a comfortable couch, in a pair of loving arms, outside with the breeze on her face. I do better when I see her for what she is, not what I wish she was.
The mind isn't always helpful