I have all these pictures, and blog posts. I have tiny baby clothes, and old toys. I have all these things to remember my babies by.
But nothing can help me trigger the memory of what it felt like to hold them.
As I snuggled next to Leyna last night, so big now in this rapidly stretching 3 year old body, and listened to her breathe, I closed my eyes and tried to recall what it was like to fit all of her in my arms and feel that same breath on my cheek.
I can hold Lowell, and I can try to imagine that it was similar- holding his big brother and sister that way.
But there is no total recall. There is no vivid recollection of the weight of their tiny bodies.
No way for images to lay themselves on my chest, weighted and relaxed, rising and falling.
No way for tiny clothes to fill with warmth and sweet sighs of babies grown too big for them.
Yes, new babies can always fill my arms and those clothes, but I still won’t remember what it was like to hold my grown babies.
There’s some heartbreak for you.