My real first memory

Well, Mom was quick to correct my fuzzy memory on my recent entry, "My first memory," as I requested:

You're right about the Alligator Club on Hilton Head Island, SC but wrong about your age! You were at least 4 years old. Dave was on our vacation with us but too young to attend the Alligator Club. The reason you were in this group is because I had morning sickness being pregnant with Steve! So Dad thought it would be more fun for you than sitting around with a sick Mom. . . . I wonder what other memories you have. Do you remember visiting Dave in ICU when he was born with all those "beepers" on him as you called the monitor leads? LOL!

Well, now that you mention it, Mom, I do remember that--and I suppose that counts as my first memory (though it's not nearly as entertaining). I can say for sure that I know how old I was--I had just turned 3 years old (Dave was born 8 days after my third birthday). I remember being wheeled down the hall in a wheelchair--not because I needed it or anything, but probably because I thought it would be fun--which was being pushed by my grandmother. I don't remember which grandmother, though. It seems more logical that it was my mom's mom, since she only lived one state away, but for some reason, my mind wants to believe that it was my dad's mom (who lives in Iran).

I remember peeking through a glass window into a huge room (which, in reality, probably wasn't all that big, but lots of things look big to a 3-year-old). David was lying on a table, surrounded by doctors and nurses, with all sorts of monitors strapped and taped to him. For whatever reason, I decided those were called "beepers" (maybe because I heard the steady beeping sound that those machines make?) and I asked my grandmother why he had all those beepers on him. Again, it would make more sense to say this grandmother was my mom's mom, since my dad's mom spoke very little English back then and would have been unable to answer me, but my mind keeps arguing with me. (Mom--maybe you can help me out again.)

I'm guessing this memory is the very first time I saw my brother David. Like Mom said, he was in the ICU--he was born with the cord wrapped around his neck 3 times, and was completely blue and silent. My mom told me once that she remembers asking my dad (who is a doctor) frantically if he was all right, and Dad wouldn't answer her. Dave ended up being fine, though we all love to take advantage of the story and tease him about having "brain damage."

I am trying now to remember my other siblings being born, but am having a hard time with Steven and Mary (my next 2 siblings). I was 13 when Peter was born, so I remember that vividly (but we'll get to that later). I remember being woken up in the middle of the night (right before either Steve or Mary was born) and being taken to a friend's house, where my parents had made arrangements for me and Dave (and possibly Steve, if this was Mary's birth). I remember being excited about getting to meet my new little brother/sister. But that's all I can remember--I don't remember visiting them in the hospital at all. Other details of Steve's and Mary's births are in my memory only because I've heard my parents tell the stories over and over (especially the story about Steve being born in the backseat of their car in the hospital parking lot--that's a classic). I suppose I remember Dave's birth a little more because he was my first younger sibling.

I remember that my mom had to be induced when she had Peter. With her history of having huge babies (no baby smaller than 9 pounds for her), her history of going past her due date (both Dave and I were about a month late. Yes, a month.), and her age, the doctor only let her go a couple days past her due date before inducing her. She and my dad left early in the morning, and I was in charge of my siblings for the day. I remember calling their hospital room multiple times throughout the day--and bless my dad's patient heart, he never once got angry with me, though he did gently tell me that they would call us first as soon as the baby was born and it was not necessary for me to keep on calling. Pete was born at 9:39 that night, and I do remember visiting him in the hospital. Mom had made sweatshirts for all of us that said, "I'm the big brother/sister" and we proudly wore those when we visited.

I had my fun as the big sister. I vividly remember one Christmas Eve, as Mom was getting us all ready for bed, I rushed to the window, excitedly exclaiming that I could see Santa's sleigh. Of course, that brought my siblings running, eager for a glimpse of Santa Claus, while I kept pointing at the sky, saying things like, "Right there--can't you see him? I can't believe you can't see him." I'm sure my mom was a little annoyed with my distraction--getting 4 young kids to bed on Christmas Eve is no easy task as it is, even without needless interruptions.

I also remember another time we were on a road trip, and my frazzled parents were desperately trying to get a few minutes of peace and quiet from the backseat of rowdy kids. My mom cheerily asked, "Who wants to play The Quiet Game?" After getting agreement from all of us, she told us to begin. I think I waited a total of 5 seconds before yelling, "I lose!" Which of course, started a chain reaction of 3 other kids yelling, "I lose!" and earned me a Most Dirty Look from my mom.

It's stories like those that make me very afraid of the kind of child Ari will become. I can't tell you how many times my mom uttered that famous parent line: "I hope you have kids someday that are just like you!" If she gets her wish, I am in T-r-o-u-b-l-e (with a capital T that rhymes with P, that stands for "pool").