I thought my third child was the flu. I guessed it might be something else when I still didn’t have any energy after three weeks. Three kids came along in four years, well four years, one month, and seven days. My memories are hazy, but I can still do math.

I was in a fog for several months after my first child, Garry, was born. I went to aerobics classes and the fog lifted a bit. Then, we moved across state lines and I had baby number two. We lived closer to both sets of grandparents who provided lots of babysitting relief. Despite that, my thoughts remained in slow motion like the gait of a zombie.

It wasn’t the flu. I was pregnant again when my second child was just four months old. There were a few brief weeks without the fog and then it never went away.

After my daughter was born I couldn’t remember what day of the week it was. I’d go in a room and not know why I was there. I lost common items. I felt like I went from a mom of one child to a mom of three, like I hit the car accelerator too fast and skipped a gear.

After my youngest child, started walking, I had a chilling conversation with my mom. I spent half an hour searching through the house. Mom wanted to help and asked, “What are you looking for?”

“Mom, I have no idea,” I confessed. Then I pleaded, “When will I get my memory back? How old do the kids have to be?”

There was one brief moment of hopeful silence, and then my mother laughed and laughed and laughed.