Forgotten memories

There is so much to go through that I have forgotten about.  Boxes stuck in the attic 20 years ago are like a buried time capsule, bringing back memories long forgotten.  More that 20 years ago I went to an auction with my mother-in-law for her aunt and uncle. At the end of the auction I bought about 8 boxes of canning jars, many antiques, for about a dollar, if I remember correctly.  Some of the jars were new enough to use, but most were just cool old shapes and sizes.  I know I made 2 jar lamps for my mother-in-law out of 2 quart blue canning jars.

 There are so many interesting lids.  I had forgotten about the lids on the right side of the picture.  There is a glass lid under the metal top that holds the glass down.  And I have always loved the zinc lids. 

 I also pulled out, what I had thought was, a quilting rack only to discover after all these years that it is really a curtain stretcher.  It was used to dry fragile lace curtains so they wouldn't need to be ironed.  Oh well, I never quilt anyway.  Anyone want a curtain stretcher from the 30s or 40s?

One of the best parts of moving is going through all the old pictures, letters, and cards the kids made me.  As I was packing up the file cabinet I was surrounded by images, memories, forgotten patients, and emotions.  Seeing all the birth announcements from couples whose baby I had delivered and reading all the wonderful words of thanks made me remember why I became a midwife.

I found a great mother's day card from my now 25 year old son.  He drew up coupons I could use for " a free care wash", "one hour of not bugging my brother and sister", and my personal favorite "one flea bath for brother"!  I think I may need to redeem one of those.  I also found a similar card from my 21 year old daughter which also had coupons, I could sure use a massage about now!

The saddest memory came from an old letter I found written by my father.  He was writing to tell me about the birth of my youngest half brother, and I think it was the only natural delivery he ever saw.  You could hear the sheer delight in his words as he described the pushing and then seeing the head.  And then "out popped Adam. Time 8:10 p.m."  I must have written to him about natural childbirth because he wrote "I think if we expect people to be 'sick' when delivering, they probably will carry out their role and be 'sick'.  That's just the effect of social pressure, the unhealthy expectations, you know.... So, we see what you were talking about.  Thanks."  This was in 1985.  My father died in 2010 and Adam died a few months ago.  So many memories came back from this one letter, and so many thoughts of lost promise and wasted time.