Let us begin from the beginning. If you have been in therapy this will feel like a cozy blanket. Or, like take a straight razor to scars you forgot you had, intentionally forgot. Either way, buckle in. Here I go. Welcome to my ride.
Almost fifty years algo I was born, in October. No big deal. Except, it was fifty years ago, and I was not due until December. The medical wisdom in those days was a premature baby should be isolated. Not handled. Only kept alive until their due date. If there were no complications they could be sent home then. There were complications. So I reminded in isolation. Eventually I was released but with orders not to hold me for my first year, for my own good physically. To keep my alive. Both of my parents were in the medical profession. Therefore, orders were followed.
I lived. I can remember back to some point during my first year. This has been confirmed through my mother by means of describing my nursery. We moved when I was two and there are no photos for me to view. My first memory is of me being alone in me crib staring in the hallway from a dark room. I was not crying. However I remember no emotion. It seems I did not cry when left alone as a baby. I knew nothing else.
I have no memory of bonding with my mother. No memory of doing things with her as a toddler. Only sitters. My memories are mainly of wondering alone in the neighborhood. Yes, as a toddler. One older couple especially. The Bettles. They would talk to me and give me root beer.
I will stop here for now only to say. I do not. I do not. I do not know how to bond or how to let go. However I do know now why I will never be able to let my first love go. I the female that told me she loved me. I was a lost duck…..and she was the love I never knew.