Remembering and forgetting to remember

I am dogged by the suspicion that I am forgetting to do something important. Something that needs doing, either today or before the babies arrive. What that is, I don't know, and it is driving me to distraction.

Distraction, as if I need more of that. Preparing the twins' room for painting, I pulled a frame off the wall, then slid the nail and hook out too. Five minutes later I had no idea where I'd left the nail and hook. I searched for a half hour, wandering up and down the stairs, scanning and re-scanning every room I'd walked through, touching surfaces as if I could make the nail jump to my magnetic fingers. After I gave up, my father-in-law found it hiding in plain sight on Ada's place-mat.

When people ask whether we are ready for the babies, I ignore the larger question of whether we are psychologically/emotionally/financially ready, responding that we have three big things on our to do list: sell our car and buy a min-van, paint the room we are readying for the twins, and settle on names. So far we've looked at Toyotas in order to get a sense of what a minivan will be, mostly painted the babies' room, and had one ten minute conversation about names. After seeing his list, I finally admitted to Chris that I had been counting on him coming up with perfect names, as he did last time. "Ada" was the first item on Chris' list last time, and I immediately loved it. After years of considering names in the abstract, faced with a real list of names for actual (if future) children is daunting. My brain goes blank, leaving me with a vague but persistent feeling that there is something I am supposed to be doing, some task I am forgetting.

I know there are a few things I need to do. When I had more energy earlier in the pregnancy, I sewed a diaper bag big enough to carry both babies and a few extra diapers. The final step in the project was edge stitching around the bag's openings. Without going into the dull details, I will note that I made a few errors and have been meaning (for months) to undo certain sections and resew them. So here's one thing to do, but staring at the bag daily has not motivated me to deal with this task. Surely there is something more pressing to do than re-sewing a finishing seam? (and less annoying, I hope silently)

Pregnancy-brain is sneaky. Although I remember suffering other hormonal effects, I don't remember feeling quite this way last time. Maybe the years have erased this as surely as it has muffled the horror of life during Ada's first few months. Maybe this disconnected concern that I am forgetting something is a way of thwarting my brain's efforts to remember that time. Maybe my mind is protecting me from the memory out of fear that should I remember what it was like, I would decide to leave my babies at the hospital if I could access those harsh weeks and months.

Still, there's that nagging feeling.