Dear Rian: Why You Don’t Have A Memory Book

One of my main regrets about blogging, is that I didn’t start doing it earlier – it’s brilliant as a record to look back on. I like to keep mementoes of things, little bits and bobs that most people would see as crappy junk but that are treasures to me because they represent something that made me happy.

Despite my natural inclination to hoard memories and make records, I didn’t do it for Rian. I have endless pictures on facebook and a stash of little bits and pieces, baby grows and the first snip of hair that curled down over his neck, but I didn’t do a memory book. Why not?

Well, in a nutshell, I was too tired. I was too tired to care about anything. Severe sleep deprivation is a legitimate form of torture, and boy was I tortured. I found this bizarre note on my phone a few years ago which consisted of various times and codes, it took me ages to remember that it was one of my efforts to work out any sort of rhyme or reason to the almost constant waking. There weren’t any.

Despite not recording anything though, and despite the awful sleep-torture, I do remember things. I remember lots of beautiful things. So, Rian my darling, here are some memories for you.

The first time I saw your smile. It was perfect – the bow of your tiny mouth that lifted your eyes. It made me cry. It was the first time my friend Emma visited you – you smiled for her first, but I don’t resent it because she is pretty funny.

The first time I made you laugh. I was holding you in my arms, where you fitted so perfectly, and I was bouncing you and singing a silly song when you let out a proper laugh. I can still remember the delight that bubbled up through me because I had elicited that sound from you.

Your first steps. I was standing in the bathroom of our first house, the one at the bottom of the stairs. You had crawled to the first step and pushed yourself up on it, then, you stood up and turned round and walked to me. Five steady steps. Your face! You were so proud and you were so pleased to show me – I was so proud too, such a small thing, yet so monumental too.

The first time we let you eat chocolate. A funny one I know. It was your second Easter, we were having lunch in a pub, you were wearing a yellow striped top. Your hair was so curly over your ears. Naughty Grandad snuck you some Easter Egg, and the look of blissful concentration on your face as you slowly smeared it everywhere will always stay with me.

The way music would make you cry. For some reason, the music at the end of the program In The Night Garden would just get you going. Your little bottom lip would pout right out and you would just cry. It was so sad!

The way your head used to fit under my chin so perfectly, and the way your hair smelt. Even though you are so much bigger now, it still fits perfectly and you still smell the same (most of the time anyway!)

I don’t ever want to forget anything about you, anything that you’ve ever done but I know it happens. These years have gone by so quickly and you are changing every day. So I thought I’d better write these things down, just in case.

I love you, little boy.

5 thoughts on “Dear Rian: Why You Don’t Have A Memory Book

  1. Such a beautiful post but it really should have come with a warning I’ve just sat here blubbing – it’s also made me even more broody, such lovely memories tho and told in a way that only a mummy can xxx

  2. What a beautiful post. It doesn’t matter where the memories are recorded, they’re in the mind always. My husband thinks I’m nuts sometimes because I love A’s baby smell. A has a memory book and box, but so many things that aren’t recorded are in my mind always. So many things to treasure.

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