The Safety in Silence is Over

I could do the safe thing. I could post this in my birth trauma group, or not post it at all. I've been told before that things like this are better shared privately, because not every one is on the same journey as I am, and "at least I was able to have children".

But I'm not content staying silent anymore. Because it was the voices of women before me speaking up that made me feel less isolated when I felt like maybe I'd failed, or maybe I'd never be all right again. If they had stayed silent, I wouldn't have been able to heal, and if my voice can help just one other to heal, it is worth it.

Three years ago, my life changed forever. What was supposed to be a joyous, sucessful introduction into motherhood turned into a living nightmare. My plan for quietly bringing my son into the world and spending our first precious hours soaking in every detail was shattered in minutes by bright lights, strangers everywhere, and tubes and needles being shoved into his beautiful soft skin before I ever even had the chance to touch him.

He and I have never seen each other without our scars. His from IVs and heel pricks, mine from a surgeon's knife. We also didn't get to know each other before the emotional scars too. And those are the ones I hate the most. The ones I've tried to hide. The scar on my stomach healed beautifully, my heart has not.

For months I battled severe depression, anxiety, anger, detachment, and post traumatic stress. I would alternate between wanting to give my baby away to someone who could love him more, to not wanting to let him out of my sight because I would have flashbacks of his birth and be afraid he would be taken away again. Irrational fears were making me back out of plans and avoid leaving the house. I hated driving with the baby in the car because we might gett into an accident, and I would have panic attacks if I had to drive at dusk or in the dark.

Then, eventually I found peace. We lived with my in laws for a month before moving into our new house, and it was the best thing that could have happened. Not being the one primarily caring from the baby, being able to care for myself, and the daily socialization with people I felt safe around gave me room to breathe. It was there, watching my mother-in-law take joy in all of Grant's antics, that I first felt genuine attachment to my son. I had finally been able to take a step back & fall in love with my baby for who he was, instead of seeing him as a reminder of what we had been through.

We've been through a lot, he and I. Healing is not a linear progression. Trauma is not the same for everyone, and it is not something you simply "get over" and move on from. But we can move forward, one small step at a time.

Happy birthday, my son. Mama treasures you for all your bravery and sweetness; for all the times you patted away the tears on my cheeks during those dark days & for giving me the strength to step on to the healing path. I love you, my little warrior.