“I don’t remember.
I can’t tell you how many times a day I say that.
About anything and everything.
When someone asks how much Frances weighed when she was born.
When my husband is trying to recall how old Walter was when he first crawled.
When I’m trying to remember if I paid my credit card bill this month.
When the doctor’s office calls to remind me of the kids’ appointment this weekend.
When I try to think about how we told my parents that we were expecting our second child.
When I try to remember what Walter’s sleep schedule was like at 3 months old.
I don’t remember.
My brain is so packed full and overrun and at the same time so under-stimulated.
Some day, I will look back in my camera roll to remember.
I will see a messy, untidy house, but I won’t remember the unease I felt about it when it was around me.
I will see myself in pajamas trying to pass as clothing with dry shampoo hair, but I won’t remember the feelings of inadequacy I had then.
I will see a toddler without shoes or wearing hand-me-downs, but I won’t remember feeling open to judgment like I did then.
I could tell you the exact time stamps my baby woke up last night.
And for how long she was awake.
I could tell you exactly what Walter had a tantrum over for the past week.
But one day I’ll look at this picture, and say I don’t remember.
But I will remember the fullness they have brought.
And how their charming unconditional love perfectly balanced the chaos they ensued.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Mandi Tuhro. You can follow her journey on Instagram. Submit your own story here. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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