The birth of selective memories

During a moment of respite, Lorraine told herself to never forget even the smallest details, like the missing button on her husband Harry’s shirt, the cracked glass on a nurse’s fob watch, the shriek of laughter from another room.

Credit: Jim Pavlidis

But then came another wave of pain, and the alarming sight of her obstetrician pulling on the forceps, his neck veins popping. “Christ! You’ll rip its bloody head off!” Harry said.

After an eternity of minutes, her baby arrived, red and puffy, and her world expanded exponentially.

Those small details she’d vowed to remember became lost forever in its enormity.

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