Friday, August 25, 2017

On This Day...

I keep seeing people posting things on Facebook that fall under "Memories" -- something posted on this day a year ago, or three, or five, or whatever. It's a feature I never take advantage of: I feel like it's negligible how interesting THIS year's posts are about my flowers or cats or food, so why go back to what will probably be some cringe-worthy thing from yesteryear?

But I was curious. So I clicked on a friend's post where it said "See Your Memories."

Well, August 25th was an interesting day over the years. I sort of wish I hadn't done it.

I am filled with consternation that while looking up whether or not "All By Myself" was influenced by or sampling Rachmaninoff's piano concerto (because I heard the piano concerto on Pandora and started belting), Wikipedia did NOT mention Bridget Jones' Diary as a movie reference. WHAT? But that's the BEST ONE!

My Knockout Rose bush mutated into a bicolor light and dark pink thing, with one rose split right down the middle.

I was apparently so consumed with the end of summer that I forgot the Emmys were on the night before. My god, what a thrilling memory that one is. 2014 me is SO FASCINATING.

Cute photos from a walk in a nearby nature park that has fairy houses and a swamp with boardwalks that I think just looks plain magical. We look so young (and slim) and happy here!


And our trademark goofball face

We saw deer and a fawn who did not even remotely seem bothered by our presence.

A freaking tree falls on our house (well, garage). Good news/bad news -- the shed was saved, and it only fell on the garage, but it took out the gutters and the fencing. PS, it was a totally clear and still night.

See the grill? We were literally standing there less than two hours earlier.
PPS -- this was not the most disastrous thing to happen in August, as I also miscarried that summer. Just a couple weeks earlier.

"Home again home again jiggety jig." Seems, innocuous, right? Until you see that it's home from the HOSPITAL where I had my EMERGENT SURGERY to remove the ectopic pregnancy before it tried to kill me, and my right tube. Many, many comments of support and disbelief on that post. I cannot believe that was six years ago. How is that possible? It seems like both another lifetime away and like yesterday.

"Birds flying high you know how I feel; sun in the sky you know how I feel; breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel..."
That's courtesy of Percoset and my first retrieval. The birds weren't the only ones flying high.

Odd question about beer in the fridge, since I had just gone gluten free due to celiac and wasn't sure how long it would stay good or if I should just gift it to people now. Also apparently I was singing the praises of a local barbecue joint. Oh, pre-IVF me, such simple issues and joys at your disposal...

It was interesting to look back and see what this day held year after year after year, starting with the summer before we got married. And also, more than a bit sad.

See, I don't hold those dates in my head. I keep them here. So I didn't realize that today and yesterday held significance. I know that summers were awful, and I remember August 2011 and July/August 2012, but I don't remember the dates. If I feel a need to remember acutely how I felt in those moments, I can reread my posts from the ectopic debacle, or my miscarriage a year later. I do actually do that from time to time, but I don't feel the need to burn into my brain exactly when those things happened. So I was caught a little off guard.

Bryce said that he thinks it says a lot about Facebook, this memories thing. Most people post positive things. Most posts are likely "oh, look, that's the day so and so was wearing that rabbit onesie!" or "What a great date that was!" or "Ahhh, what a great barbecue/bottle of wine/walk along the lakeshore that was!" But here I was like, "Huh, I didn't realize this was the day I came home from the hospital, AND the day I was loopy from my very first egg retrieval, AND the day a tree fell on our house after we had a miscarriage (definitely leading us to believe that we had somehow wronged someone horribly in a past life or something). I wonder if the reason I forgot about the Emmys was because I was in the tail end of fertility treatment and I probably had just failed my frozen egg donor cycle and was reeling, looking for answers I would never find. It's a lot of not so great moments in our life, which peppered the last 7+ years like I pepper my cottage cheese (I like it practically gray).

But on the other hand, the rose is unusual and pretty, I love those pictures of us in the magical swamp, and I am always cheered up by a very drunk Bridget listening to Sad FM. Those were memories that made me not so sad.

I look forward to having more positive things to look back on as the years go by -- less reminders of personal tragedy cropping up unexpectedly, and more pictures of us happy and having a good time together. Maybe on a coast somewhere.


  1. That rose. Color morphs are always fascinating and I'm curious if you're still getting the same phenotype.

    Anyway, I'm with Bryce. Most people only talk about the good. The reality is, life is always messier than that. I think it shows a lot about you as a being that you can show these patterns and also the beauty that can come. Basically, the beauty that can come during the trauma.

    May this weekend bring more beauty

    1. So fascinating! And yes, it's doing the same thing ever since that first year. Half the bush is pink and half is fuchsia, and occasionally there's one with a few petals of each but not since 2015 has there been one split right down the middle!

      Yup, things can be mighty rosy colored on the facebook, even when it's mushy. Yay for beauty during trauma, it makes things more bearable, right?

  2. Yeah, I think you are right about the posts being mostly happy on Facebook. Or, at least, trivial posts of deflection and avoidance (that's me). I sometimes appreciate the memory feature as I don't often deliberately look back except using the blog (like you). But I've heard from a few people how problematic that Facebook feature can be. I'm sure there's a way to turn it off. I hope too that you make happy memories too!

    1. Absolutely, although I think yours are often thought-provoking! I think it would be great for someone looking for milestones, or changes to a house, or whatever. Not so much if you've lost a loved one, or sustained other trauma that's visible in your posts. The sad thing is I didn't turn it on, I chose to go to "See your memories!" Siren song it was...

  3. I too, resisted the Facebook memory thing for a long time. Now I find it to be a mixed bag - I've had some, "OMG, that's so cool" and "Oh yay, I'd forgotten about that horrible thing" myself. However, I love your idea of having more positive memories to reflect on in coming years, and the coast is always a good choice! *hugs*

    1. Yes! I mean, even with the awful in there there was also a fair bit of cool, so it's a mixed bag for sure. Ahhhh, coast...

  4. I kind of enjoy my "On This Day" feature and looking back on the memories/stuff I've shared. Of course, Facebook came long after my days of infertility treatment, etc., so I might feel differently if I was constantly reminded of negative cycles and miscarriages, etc. Here's to new, happier memories in the years to come! :)

  5. My "On This Day" feature usually reminds me of travel, or the change of seasons, because I don't share much else. Like Loribeth, my ectopics and infertility happened a long time before that. I was struck two days ago though, when a friend posted that her daughter was 14. She shared the same due date as my second ectopic. It was a moment.

    Also - "It seems like both another lifetime away and like yesterday." That's how I felt about my ectopics and cancelled cycles for a long time. But gradually they're not feeling like "yesterday" much any more. If I want to though, I can transport myself back there and remember and feel it all again. I just choose not to these days.

  6. Youch...weird to watch cycling around from an omniscient point of view. You've zoomed out and can know what's coming.

    I do love those roses. And the goofy faces.