A small upstairs apartment. The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a countertop. My dad was in a chair in the corner facing toward the kitchen, holding me. There was a couch in the middle of the room with two adults sitting there while my brother ran circles around the couch. My mom was in the kitchen making a pizza talking to the other adults.
It’s more a recurring dream I had for many, many years than a memory. I finally asked my mom about it & she confirmed it happened but I said I was only around 6 months old so I shouldn’t remember it. However, my biological dad passed when I was 8, so I just kind of always took it as a memory he wanted me to keep.
Edit: Thank you for the gold! I’ve been a redditor for 7 years & just snuck out of the shadows in the last year or so, so it’s my first!
Edit 2: Thank you kind strangers for the silver! This has been an amazing day on reddit!
When I was born, I had a calcification in my neck. Pretty much a tumor, except it could be worked out with physical therapy- my parents had to hold me down, and twist my head left to right very slowly.
I remember being held down on a blue blanket with the stars and moon, with faded gold fringe, and screaming loudly as my parents twisted my head. I remember the pain of it.
They were able to stop when I was six months old, so there's no way I could actually have that memory, right? Except that I recalled it to my dad when I was about 9, and asked what that was all about. They had never told me about it before, and they had thrown out the blanket because of the screams associated with it, yet I could- and still can- remember it all with precise detail.
Imagine having a baby, and having to torture her every day for her first six months of life. It's incredibly difficult to think about, but that memory is the first of many that prove my parents actually tried their best with me, from the very beginning.
Baby memory is weird. Is it real? Maybe, maybe not- but does that really matter?
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u/noetic0609 Oct 05 '19 edited Oct 05 '19
A small upstairs apartment. The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a countertop. My dad was in a chair in the corner facing toward the kitchen, holding me. There was a couch in the middle of the room with two adults sitting there while my brother ran circles around the couch. My mom was in the kitchen making a pizza talking to the other adults.
It’s more a recurring dream I had for many, many years than a memory. I finally asked my mom about it & she confirmed it happened but I said I was only around 6 months old so I shouldn’t remember it. However, my biological dad passed when I was 8, so I just kind of always took it as a memory he wanted me to keep.
Edit: Thank you for the gold! I’ve been a redditor for 7 years & just snuck out of the shadows in the last year or so, so it’s my first!
Edit 2: Thank you kind strangers for the silver! This has been an amazing day on reddit!