Do I really feel the way I feel?
That is the question these days. I’m slightly off kilter due to all the sick kids in succession after my bout of lung extracting fun. Throw in the sleep deprivation and a touch of ptsd and wow… I’m one wiped out mama.
Things just seem to be piling up in my brain. I have chosen to not bother with trying to ‘process’ the Business of Being Born. It is what it is. A documentary about birth in America. Nothing new to me. I found the ending horrifying, I’d be very curious if she has a vbac/hbac, should she have more children. Yes, spoiler there. ENDS WITH A C/S. Okay, see I’m processing … fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff.
One friend who is walking a lonely path… feeling that she can’t write about the struggles she is having with conceiving a child. Just because she has three healthy children already. Who are we to judge how many she ’should be thankful for’? What about her feelings? I sat and cried after I talked to her this afternoon. Totally about me, truth be known. I have to live pregnancy and babies through others now! :-) I left my other blog because I felt trapped in a box of my own… not being able to write some truths for fear of the reactions. Yet, I haven’t written any of them down with the publish button being tapped. I can see where she is coming from to some extent. I still don’t feel comfortable writing a lot of things. For two years now I’ve had a letter to send to a Canadian Midwifery publication. Two years… countless edits… new photos… old photos… no photos and just the words… two years. Why haven’t I sent it in? Because I’m scared of having it all out there. I’m scared of putting my name and what happened out there for others to see and judge and pass judgement. I know that it is mostly due to the whooping I got for my comment on this post… A few days later he posted a new entry… Home. I cried for weeks. And tonight I went and saw it again… I went and read all 200+ posts. I went. Cripes I am one dumb ass! All it did was upset me. All over again. bah.
Okay so where was I going with this? Oh yeah. But do I really feel the way I feel?
I have no freaking clue. I just know that I’ve got a half billion things to say and can’t seem to figure out how to say them. It is like wee girlies birth story. Never written, but visited often in the dark corners of my life. I never wrote biggest boys either. It wasn’t his fault that I couldn’t cope with the pain and disappointment. Heck there are still days that I want to say how sorry I am that I’m his mama. Yes, I did tell him that often in the first few months… apologized for not being good enough to give him a better birth and take care of him properly. Alas, this is another post for another day… Biggest boy is a challenging child… much like how he orchestrated his entrance earthside. *flipped to breech at some point that day*
So yeah. Only midsized boy has his own birthstory. And an awesome one if I have to say so myself… 
Well, enough rambling for the night. I’m tired and want to be ready for the fireworks… husband is going to go ballistic on dimwitted former carpool person. tee hee. Can’t wait for it!
