One smell of that Twilight scent and I remember.
I remember.
I remember the realisation that this was it, no going back; you were on your way and I would be a real life mother.
I remember sitting on my exercise ball, pacing the hall, leaning on the cabinet, breathing deeply and hoping for the best.
I remember losing all awareness of day and night; blended together as I enforced dim light throughout our home.
I remember.
I remember bath after bath after bath; trying to keep my bump underwater, to ease the discomfort.
I remember being naked, physically and emotionally; not caring, as the midwife checked how I was doing.
I remember your father feeding me leftover lebbeküchen from our celebrations days earlier.
I remember.
I remember the sweet sunrise that Wednesday morning, wondering if that would be the day you’d arrive.
I remember the relief of NHS tea and toast when I surrendered my dream of a home birth.
I remember thehours whiled away, waiting and wanting you to come.
I remember.
I remember those final pushes. The moment you came out. The first time I saw you.
I thought I’d cry. I didn’t.
I remember holding you for what felt like only a moment, though I’m reliably told it was over an hour.
I remember the sunrise that morning too, as beautiful as the last.
I remember.
I remember the fear on our first car journey home; the anger at speeding drivers, spinning around the corner.
I remember holding you, mesmerised, shocked, slightly numb, wondering if I’d done something dumb.
How could I be a mum?
I remember knowing I’d never love anyone else or anything else in the same way. Ever.
I remember.
I remember my body felt as though it had been through an horrific ordeal. It had.
I remember that first bath. Wow. What release and comfort, physically and emotionally.
I remember closing my eyes, pulling my head under the water, drowning out the world’s noise and demands.
I remember.
I remember that lavender scent. Musky. Divine. Healing.
I remember that is what every bath and shower felt like. Heavenly healing. Of my body and my mind.
I remember how amazing I felt afterwards, the aroma clinging.
I remember.
Isn’t it amazing what one scent can trigger?