We go to war for our babies. We are left raw, exposed, wounded. We are awarded the victor.
Our battle was short but challenging and one we thought was over once we left the battlefield. An hour later I found myself laying on a Maternity Ward bed fighting a sneak attack – a very scary post partem hemorrhage that involved 6 nurses and a midwife holding me down, kneading, reopening. It left me depleted, more raw, and more wounded. Why had I not heard of this experience before? Because we are supposed to hold up our prize and tell everyone we are fine. But doing that does very little for our fellow soldiers. I want to acknowledge the battle. I want to say things were hard. Because I have the benefit of experience, I know that over time the trauma will separate itself from the prize. That the memory of that terrifying night will fade and I’ll see only him. I will claim my prize and move on. But I will not dismiss the story…because I want to acknowledge the warrior in you, and never forget the warrior in me.
“She threw away her masks and put on her soul.”
Welcome to the world sweet baby.
Riggs Philip Quinn
4/10/17 at 9:16pm