The Memories We Carry in our Bodies
Thirty years ago I was awaiting a baby being born. I’d baked some peanut butter cookies that evening (the nesting urge kicking in). Later, I called my OB-GYN about spotting. “How much?” she asked. “About a tablespoon,” I said, perhaps my mind still attuned to baking measurements. “That’s a good description,” she said. “Nothing to panic about, but I think you should go to the hospital.” And so on a snowy February night, we drove the short distance to the nearby hospital. Over 18 hours later, on February 29th, our daughter was born. I was a nervous, anxious, new mother, worried the baby wasn’t latching on, wasn’t peeing enough, sleeping enough, all the common anxieties of new motherhood. I learned, I grew into it, my baby and I absorbed the ways of each other. Our minds may forget those early days, the birthing, the angst, the sleepless nights, the countless small moments of wonder and joy. But I think our bodies remember. We carry our memories in the cells of our bodies. They say w...