I was trying to get to sleep last night and it occurred to me that it’s the end of August. On the 20th of August last year, my 3 month old baby started having seizures and I spent a week in hospital with her. She had many tests, some of them awful. I count that week as one of the worst in my life.
My brain usually remembers anniversaries for me, without me even trying. The fact that the week slipped by unnoticed by me feels like a big deal. There is a luxury in being able to forget, in not dwelling on the past. She is a bright, bossy, brilliant, funny, clever and interesting 1 year old to be around. She kept me focussed on the present, and I felt very lucky to have not remembered.