False Hope

March 25, 2007 at 2:54 am (adoption)

Today is one of those bad days. One of the days when my anger fails me. My rage is extinguished by some unseen force and I am left with the agony and crushing depression.

In truth, it started at some point in the night. My subconcious mind betrayed me. It brought back the things my waking mind refuses to let me see.

Waking from these dreams always leaves me in a trance like state for hours. Caught some where between the dreams and reality. I know the memories are right below the surface but I can’t access them. I try so hard to remember. I want to remember. Please just let me remember.

I want to remember her smell. I want to remember the softness of her skin. I want to remember the weight of her in my arms. I want to remember the shrill sound of her first cry. I want to remember all the pain and exhaustion of her arrival in this world. I already lost her. Do I have to lose the memory of her too?

I thought I had retained one tiny  memory this time. It wasn’t anything major but it was something. A tiny crumb I could hold on to. I grabbed my journal and wrote it down with such excitement. Now I can’t ever forget it again. Its in writing. Its permanent.

Normally I don’t read my past journal entries. I just write it down and leave it be. This morning was different for some reason. I read the entire thing from grisley begining to tragic end. It hurt a lot more than I expected.

Half way in my heart stopped. There it was staring me in the face. It was almost word for word what I had just written. I forced myself to keep reading. Five entries all the same. It wasn’t a new memory. Writing it down didn’t make it permanent. I forgot it five times before. It wasn’t some great all powerful sign of my memory returning.

Maybe I will end up like the man in the movie Memento. I can tattoo every memory on me. Would it even help? Most likely I would end up staring at the ink designs under my skin and wondering what the hell they meant.

Maybe the few that read here can remind me next time. So here goes…. this is my great gig ole memory ….  Its huge I tell you ….

ROOM 311

Yep, that’s it. Seems like nothing at all. A simple room number causing all this joy and pain. Who’ da thunk.

I was in room 311. That means at some point, even if only for a few minutes, she was in room 311. I wasn’t in some utility closet or a secret underground facility. I didn’t give birth in a blackhole. I was on the third floor 3 in the eleventh room. 11

ROOM 311

There was a real room in a real hospital. I was there. I didn’t dream it all.

I’m sure some of you are wondering what the big deal is. Its only a room number. Its not like I suddenly remembered her little eyes staring up into mine. But it is something where I once had nothing. Its something that is just mine. No one else was on room 311 when she was born. Its mine and they can’t have it.

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