Birthing Trauma

At my 14 week visit with my midwife during my second pregnancy my midwife looked at me over her glasses and said "you don't have to do this alone. You can ask for help and you're going to need it."

Midwifes. They are akin to angels, which, I guess is why they burn out. You can't be an angel for too long, it takes a toll on your personal life.

The care my team brought me during my second pregnancy and the days and weeks following my daughters birth were unparalleled.

I needed to have a second baby, not just because I felt like my family was missing someone, but because I needed a second labour and delivery. I needed another kick at the can.

My oldest's birth was so complicated. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong and inside of that I had a shitty husband who didn't watch any of the birthing videos on how to support me or read any articles I sent him. He was convinced that because it's 'natural' he would know exactly what to do at the time. He didn't.

It happens rarely, but I've been told that it happens, that during labour I was rendered completely unable to speak. The hugeness of the physicality of labour took all of my energy and I was like Ariel, award, on legs and without a voice. I couldn't tell anyone what I wanted or needed.

Eight years later, I invited my fiercest single mama friend into the labour and delivery room with me with a book of all of my wants and wishes; everything that was a hard no and all of the care that I thought was going to help and soothe me. She was up to the challenge. She was amazing. And there was Young Janet, the nurse. She was good at her job. She was kind and compassionate and reassured me that many of the things that happened during my first delivery were against this hospitals protocols. Great. Let's have a baby, then!

I’d been saying for months ‘I don’t know how to raise a daughter, because I have only raised a son.’ No, my darling dearest. That isn’t it.

When my son came along I made promises to him, promises to myself and promises to the universe that I would be a better parent than my mother. I wrote letters and made lists of how exactly that would be. Eight years ago I committed to be a good parent to my child.

I have been floating above my worry and have just now settled into the cause.

This. This is different. I will raise as a daughter as a daughter without a mother.

I will raise a daughter with the same promises that I promised my son, but with new depths to the heartbreak for the little girl that resides inside of me.

I will raise a daughter as a daughter, who has no mother. And it will hurt my heart over and over again.

I will raise a daughter as a daughter, who has no mother. And I will do so with the courage to face my broken heart as many times as necessary to heal it.

I will raise a daughter with all the patience and care that my own mother could not muster.