by Anne Tait

Created on: January 23, 2010   Last Updated: January 25, 2010

"I'm pregnant!" I sang down the phone to my husband as I danced around the house with my little peed on stick waving through the air. A wonderful new chapter was about to start in our lives. We were full of plans, the baby already had a name and we couldn't wait to set up the nursery. Then it happened...I opened the refrigerator to look for my...LAPTOP! What more can I say? I was horrified at this turn of events. I was smart and organized and....what was I saying?

A quick search of all the pregnancy books we had bought in the preceding few weeks told me what was wrong. I had Pregnancy Brain. It just went downhill from there. I worked in a classroom at the time and I kept forgetting students' names, where I had put their work and even on the odd occasion, where I had parked my car at the start of the day. My husband found all this rather funny, I found it quite distressing. I would forget what I had eaten the night before and even managed to eat dinner twice a couple of times (this is not an exaggeration, my hubby was away at the time so I had no one to remind me I'd already eaten).

Doctors and friends all assured me this was just part of a normal pregnancy. Huh! I had to write notes to myself and plaster them to every surface in the house. I had to write my name on my lunch before I put it in the staff fridge at work because I could never remember what I had taken for the day. My students thought this was all great fun and went to great pains to remind of things, including I'm sure a few things that they made up just for fun. Had I really said that the kids had no homework for the week? I was too afraid to question it just in case I had. I thought that if I could just claw my way through the rest of the pregnancy without putting the washing in the bin instead of the hamper or losing my car at the shopping center (again) I'd be alright. I was wrong.

One day a few weeks after my son was born (a 2 and 1/2 hour first labor, brag brag brag!) I looked at him and drew a complete bank. For a full 10 seconds I could not recall my son's name. Horror of horrors, my pregnancy brain had not left with the passing of the placenta.

In the 3 years since his birth my brain has continued to turn to mush at the worst of times. I'd suggest a support group for sufferers but I doubt that any of us would remember where we were meeting.

So if you wake up one day to find your television remote in the microwave all I can suggest is: start writing yourself notes, lots and lots of notes. Oh and don't trust anything the kids told you that you agreed to do.

Learn more about this author, Anne Tait.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.