Flash

It's so hard for me to describe what I've been going threw without triggering another episode. I've had three in the last day.

Three flashbacks.

One was so bad that I kept forgetting where I was. Hubs tried to help me from the car and I was terrified he was my Midwife Grace pulling me into the OR.

A few weeks ago, I got into it with a random stranger. It was the night before Hubs went out of town for work so we went to Five Guys Burgers and Fries as they are gluten free (or can be.)

We were sitting there and it was just after DADT was repealed. I was talking about how John McCain was against the repeal and some random person came up to me and 'identified' himself as a soldier. He was in a dominos uniform.

Hubs and I kept on with our conversation and tried to ignore this intruder, but he kept asking about Little Man. How old he was and so forth. Making snide remarks about him already eating table food. I told him that BLW is healthy and wonderful for babies.

He then told us his next baby was to be born on February 14th. Hubs said 'you mean that's the due date.'

He told us it wasn't a 'due date' it was a scheduled section. I told him I was sorry and the recommendations from the ACOG about VBAC as his 'wife?' had had a previous section. He didn't believe me, which is fine, he was a sheep. We got to talking about the financial aspects of it and how much it costs to section vs a NCB and he was shocked but then said "Well, I don't trust Doctors, but I don't question them either."

I found that really ignorant. As if I was a physician and said 'because you're a moron we should amputate your penis.' He wouldn't QUESTION that?!

Then I made a serious mistake, mind you while we were trying to eat. "I have PTSD from my section."

"YOU!? How could YOU possibly have PTSD? You weren't in the war. My brother was shot and he doesn't have it. I was shot in the stomach and had half of it removed, I don't have PTSD."

Now Hubs thought I was handling this well because I remained emotionless. I remained cold to the ignorant bastard. I simply said 'yeah, because it's so wonderful being strapped down while you're awake and your guts are ripped from your body. . .that's not traumatic at all.'

. . .

It really pisses me off that people don't understand that there is birth rape. That I feel as if I have to explain myself.

Tomorrow I'm going for a surgical consult. They want to open me up and check my bile duct, which I'll more then likely decline. Hubs is going with me for support and to make sure that the physician understands how serious my PTSD is.

I've never had episodes that bad. Even now, I'm still foggy. I'm still shaky. I'm still scared that anything I think of will trigger it again. Then I look at my precious son.

I regret how viciously he was brought into this world, but I will never regret him.

I also am contemplating our next child. I am so scared that. . .this could happen to us again. That something could happen. That I'm broken. Is this, the PTSD, worth it? A month ago, I'd say yes, but I'd be lying. I only think two people on this earth knew how badly I was depressed in the months following my sons arrival onto this earth. That he was the only thing keeping me here. How much I wanted to give up. How bleak I was.

I haven't been that depressed in a while. I've been hurt by family and friends, people who don't think I should be a mother. People who think I'm a bad mother. People who think I'm 'insane.'

And then people who think I'm crazy because I wanted our next birth to either be a home birth or unassisted. People who say 'it won't heal you.' People who say 'your son will hate you for what you did, that the second birth healed you, but his birth damaged you.'

My son didn't damage me. They did. The Midwives, the Doctors, the Nurses. They did. My son inspired me to fight. To stay earthside and fight.