We are coming up on Flynn's first birthday. Unlike some parents, I am not sad that he's getting older. I'm actually excited for him to be growing and learning and turning one, even though time has flown by. What I am anxious about is recalling the events of one year ago. I am afraid to relive the day my baby was born.
I’m sure I’m not alone in saying this. I’m positive that there are other mothers out there that experience this feeling, namely parents of babies that were born prematurely or under traumatic circumstances. I see the dates pass by and, in my head, I’m recreating what exactly went wrong and how. It’s like watching a horrific accident unfold, but I can’t stop it. I know that I can’t be the only one, yet I feel so isolated. Who wishes that they could just forget something that should have been so magical?
The day that my child was born was not the happiest day of my life, it was the scariest and most traumatizing. It’s a day that I try not to think about and have to prepare myself to talk about. These feelings are never something that I imagined happening. I was living in a little bubble where everything was perfect, until it popped. The smiling photos of one year ago have been resurfacing - the bump showcases, the yoga class poses, the baby countdown, the blissful unawareness. Today was my last belly photo (27 weeks). I thought to myself, “Well, look at that. That was it. I didn’t even know that it was over. That was my first and only shot at ‘big and round.’” Soon, the posts will stop all together, though, and while I’ve been struggling through the happy memories, I’m dreading that period of silence.
I’m not yet at the point where I can discuss my son’s birth story without breaking. Even when I wrote it all out in a post, it took hours stretched out over days over weeks to get it all out. I still haven’t gone back to read it because I’m not ready. Yes, the outcome was eventually leaving that hospital with a baby, but the journey has been treacherous and those beginning days were the most difficult and were filled with uncertainty. The pure fear and helplessness that we experienced in that time was unbearable and it is not something that I am prepared to face again. It takes time to reach a place of acceptance and understanding and enough of it hasn’t passed for me just yet.
How am I coping this year? I’m not. I’m distracting myself. I’m busy planning the most perfect first birthday with amazing memories to replace the horrific ones. I’m determined to finally give my son the celebration that he deserved, but never got. That way, maybe, on his second birthday, I can look back on this year with fondness and love and slowly fade out the bad memories with good. Giving myself such an obsessive and lofty goal is probably not the most healthy outlet, but it gives me something productive to do.
Sometimes, all a person needs is time. Time must pass and new amazing memories must happen to replace the old, not-so-great ones. Create the memories that you wish you had the first time.
I’m sure I’m not alone in saying this. I’m positive that there are other mothers out there that experience this feeling, namely parents of babies that were born prematurely or under traumatic circumstances. I see the dates pass by and, in my head, I’m recreating what exactly went wrong and how. It’s like watching a horrific accident unfold, but I can’t stop it. I know that I can’t be the only one, yet I feel so isolated. Who wishes that they could just forget something that should have been so magical?
The day that my child was born was not the happiest day of my life, it was the scariest and most traumatizing. It’s a day that I try not to think about and have to prepare myself to talk about. These feelings are never something that I imagined happening. I was living in a little bubble where everything was perfect, until it popped. The smiling photos of one year ago have been resurfacing - the bump showcases, the yoga class poses, the baby countdown, the blissful unawareness. Today was my last belly photo (27 weeks). I thought to myself, “Well, look at that. That was it. I didn’t even know that it was over. That was my first and only shot at ‘big and round.’” Soon, the posts will stop all together, though, and while I’ve been struggling through the happy memories, I’m dreading that period of silence.
I’m not yet at the point where I can discuss my son’s birth story without breaking. Even when I wrote it all out in a post, it took hours stretched out over days over weeks to get it all out. I still haven’t gone back to read it because I’m not ready. Yes, the outcome was eventually leaving that hospital with a baby, but the journey has been treacherous and those beginning days were the most difficult and were filled with uncertainty. The pure fear and helplessness that we experienced in that time was unbearable and it is not something that I am prepared to face again. It takes time to reach a place of acceptance and understanding and enough of it hasn’t passed for me just yet.
How am I coping this year? I’m not. I’m distracting myself. I’m busy planning the most perfect first birthday with amazing memories to replace the horrific ones. I’m determined to finally give my son the celebration that he deserved, but never got. That way, maybe, on his second birthday, I can look back on this year with fondness and love and slowly fade out the bad memories with good. Giving myself such an obsessive and lofty goal is probably not the most healthy outlet, but it gives me something productive to do.
Sometimes, all a person needs is time. Time must pass and new amazing memories must happen to replace the old, not-so-great ones. Create the memories that you wish you had the first time.
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