I must write down the story of baby Z's entrance into this world, as I know I will soon forget all the intricate details due to mommy brain and the passing of time.
The thought of a time when I will have look back on this story and read it to remind myself of its happening is sort of sad, in a way.
I wish I could remember all the beautiful things that happen to me, the happy things, the sad things, the ugly things I learn from.
I wish I could remember all the things my children say, the way they look, the way they sound and smell and feel.
I wish I could remember all of the things that my husband does, that I do both wrong and right.
The things that we promise to do, or promise not to do.
The things that I beg myself to not forget.
But alas, our humans minds are incapable.
As time moves on, our memories fade.
I remember when I had my second baby, my Little Girl, and I when I came home from the hospital I looked at my son who came first and realized he was all of the sudden bigger. He looked so much older and I knew he would never be little again. He would just keep growing and growing and in doing so he would change until he was no longer a baby.
He would become a child, a boy, a teenager and too soon, a man.
I then locked myself in the bathroom and cried.
That was a really hard time for me.
Now I look back on that memory with fondness, as it is one that will forever be ingrained in my mind, at least one moment I will never forget. The realization that all things change and nothing stays the same. No matter how hard we all try, we can't keep our babies as babies forever, we can't freeze time and we can't have a perfect recollection of all things.
So we try to enjoy each and every moment we have, striving to memorizing them as time quickly fleets by until all we have are the bit and pieces of our lives that we strain to remember.
Unless of course, we write down our stories.
We write our stories to give us vivid, detailed recollections of all the times we have spent.
To prove to ourselves that we were here, that it happened!
We cried, we laughed, we loved,
we lived.
We write them so we do not forget.
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Tomorrow comes the birth story of my fourth child, my second son, my last baby.
So I do not forget.