A Memorable Nightgown
My Mother's Childbirth Garm
A few weeks ago I received a message from one of my old lecturers about writing a piece for The Gloss Magazine as part of their series, ‘Story of a Dress’. This series asked readers to share memories about a dress that has played an important role in their lives. As Care Label is all about sharing stories about the clothes on our backs, I leapt at the opportunity and the laptop had never been opened with such intent.
After some moments of manic typing, my keyboard dexterity went from 100-0, as I realised, I needed to write a couple hundred words about a dress of note in my life. The last time I checked, dresses are not in my usual wardrobe rotation…
However, it’s not always the clothes we wear, that mean to most to us, it is often the pieces that tell a story, transport us back to a time of the past, or remind us of someone special.
After I wracked my brain, I knew exactly the dress to write about. I thought back to when it all began, the day I inhaled my first particles of Oxygen.
Have a read of the story behind the first piece of cloth I ever touched.
Enjoy.
I was born on 30th January 1997 in Dublin’s Holles St Maternity Ward. When my Mother tells me the story of the big day, she always remarks on a couple of details; What my father said to her when I was delivered, my weight (8lbs 3 oz), and the nightdress she wore.
The first two details are typical. But the last detail surprised me. A cotton nightdress is not something that would spring to mind when discussing the momentous occasion of childbirth.
This dress had no significance up to the day of my birth. Just an ordinary cotton night dress. So why is this item of clothing always mentioned when the story is told?
This is something I’ve thought about for some time. Why is the dress a key detail and not something else? But one day the penny dropped. Something I have come to understand since January 1997 is that what we wear connects us to memory.
We fabricate life’s most significant moments via the clothes we wear. Life’s threads are a tangible substitute for our intangible memory. When we try to reach out to those special moments, our elusive memory fails us. What better way to materialise our memories than the dress, shirt or shoes we wore in that moment?
This story of childbirth and my Mother’s night dress reinforces that the clothes we wear are preserved deep in our consciousness. This dress has become the vehicle to access the most significant day of my Mother’s life. Something so simple as a piece of cloth has allowed my Mother to remember the day, as well as giving her son a means to contextualise his first moments in the world. Who knew a night dress could mean so much?
What are the clothes, watches, rings, or dresses of note in your life? They could be your own or someone else’s. But regardless of material and ownership, they all tell a unique story.
Thank you to The Gloss for publishing my piece and thank you Katriona Flynn for asking me to take part. Click here to read other great stories as part of the series.
CL
