This isn’t another review post. I’ve had a post brewing in my head for a while and I wanted to get it written before the end of the testing period. It’s about sentimentality- do you have any?- and the emotional journey of motherhood.
When my eldest was born, we saved various bits and bobs for her ‘memory box’. We added things like her hospital bracelet; the CD single of the song at number one the day she was born; a newspaper from the same day; her first cinema ticket; her first tooth and other important-to-us artefacts. She loves this box and always asks to see it. We have a smaller one for her brother and an even smaller one for her sister. It’s about keeping real, solid things for her to lay a claim to. They don’t make her her but they build a picture of her life. They give her things to think about, questions to ask and memories to dream of.
Our memory boxes aren’t unique. Parents all over the world collect and save precious things to help them keep their memories close. And they don’t have to be real, solid artefacts either. For me, scents, feelings and colours are just as important. I remember events based on what clothes I was wearing that day (that’s why this post was so special to me, because clothes help me to remember certain, special days) and the people who were with me. I think remembering special events is so important- in the end it doesn’t matter if you remember something because people keep telling you about it, or because you actually have it in your memory bank.
I remember the first time I ever pushed a pram with my baby inside. It was October. It was warm enough to wear just a t-shirt and jeans. I remember the feel of the pram under my fingertips and the weight of her tiny body inside the carrycot. I remember walking through the dried leaves that had fallen to the floor and I remember that feeling of pride, elation and joy that came with pushing a pram.
Sound silly? It’s not supposed to be. I can’t fit a pram inside a memory box, but the memories are there all the same. I remember the pram I had for the toddler and how difficult it was to get up the kerb after my horrific c-section and other injuries. I remember the feeling of desolation that swept over me as I realised I would have to sell this pram. This pram that I had spent so long choosing and had spent so long gazing over before he was born. This pram that I had trusted to carry my baby. It was an emotional time, believe it or not.
I remember the day I learned I was to be one of five lucky Graco Symbio b testers. My daughter was less than two hours old. I was lying in a hospital bed with her beside me. Her beautiful, warm body was close to mine and we were watching her in awe. We were overwhelmed at how easy her birth had been and how precious the memory of her birth was going to be. I was thinking at last I know what it is like to think of the birth of my child and smile.
I remember the day we took the Symbio b out for the first time. I wasn’t allowed to push it but we took a photo of me with my hands on the handle anyway. I remember marvelling at how small my baby looked inside the carrycot- and yes, I remember what I was wearing.
Someone once told me to make the most of the time I have with my kids and to make sure that I make memories with them each and every day. That’s what I’m doing. So when I ask you if your pram is special to you, what will you say? The Graco Symbio b is special to me- it’s my baby’s first pram. It came on a special day. It was chosen for me and it has- so far- been one of the best prams I’ve owned. But it’s actually a lot more than that too. It’s a place where I can lay my baby and I know she will be comfortable and I know she will be safe. It’s a way of ensuring I can leave the house every day for a bit of me time too. It’s a way of making memories.