Waxing Nostalgia

  Scott and I in NYC. 

I've been having a lot of nostalgic dreams lately.  The other night, I dreamed about a former workplace and of a past boss who became a good friend and who I'm still very fond of and close to.

Last night, I dreamed of a trip to New York City that Scott and I took together early in our relationship.

I've also had some snippets of my childhood infuse my dreams.  The fabric from the bumble bee dress I wore when I was little that I loved so much.  A family picnic in Pinedale with grape soda.  Sledding down the hill by my great aunt's house with my big brother.  But in all these dreams, I'm the adult that I am today - married to Scott, happy, and pregnant.  In fact in most of these dreams I feel the baby kicking.  I think that she actually is kicking me, I've just learned to not wake up and let my subconscious deal with it instead.

If I can put on my psycho-analyst hat, I know that these dreams have to do with the changes occurring in my life.  I'm always a bit broody this time of year anyway.  There's something about the fall that makes me contemplative.  And yeah, big changes are a comin'!

A couple months ago, my Mom had surgery to remove a brain tumor.  I've been hesitant to write about it in this blog thinking that it might cross a line.  But I am happy to report that the surgery went very well, the tumor was benign, and she is trucking down the road of recovery at a good clip.  I was able to spend a little time with her before the surgery, which was really important to me.  It was the first time that she had seen me pregnant, and I was just really starting to show.  Definitely a special moment for both of us - the first time she said hello to her grandchild and felt her kick.  But Mom always has a trick up her sleeve, and one afternoon she pulled me into her bedroom and brought out a bag of goodies which included some cherished family heirlooms - the trench coat I wore as a toddler, the coming home sweater that my grandmother knitted, but the one that put me over the edge was the hippo book.  MY hippo book.  This hand-made, cloth, tattered with love book that I had forgotten about entirely until it appeared before me and I burst into tears.  It was one of my most cherished possessions as a child, and I hadn't seen it in decades.  And here it was, having been stored away all these years, saved for this very moment.  My heart was so full in that very moment.  The one thing Mom definitely understands is how very sentimental her daughter is.

I hope my daughter will be the same way.

I find myself searching for artifacts to pass down to her.  I had no idea that I would take so much pleasure in looking into my past so that I can share it with my future.  Comments like, "when I was your age" aside, there's just something really incredibly about the traditions and history of a family as told through moomintrolls, sophie the giraffe, the John Denver & the Muppets Christmas album, Chief Falling Rock (a family legend), and crepes on Christmas morning.

My family is rich in tradition and nostalgia and I know that there are many memories that Scott looks forward to revisiting with our daughter as well. I am so anxious to combine the two and share all of these family customs and memories with this little family that Scott and I are creating together.  It makes me so happy that sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming again.

9 weeks, 2 days and counting...