NOTE: This post is from a momma in our Facebook community. By Eli Leblanc, member of Césarimouski About a year and a half ago, I realized that I didn't have to accept how my daughters were born because it is to me unacceptable. I don’t have to forgive myself, the midwife, the nurses, the obstetrician, the anaesthetist, the society and life in general for what happened because it is to me unforgiveable. Trying to accept and forgive felt and still feels like a lack of respect for myself. This was a big step. I felt more serene than I had felt since the birth of my eldest 4 years ago and apart from 2 or 3 episodes a month, I was able to keep this whole PTSD thing under control. Then, last fall, I was hit by several unrelated sources of stress. My energy and morale became very low and consequently, the 2-3 episodes a month became 2-3 episodes a day. I was finding it hard to concentrate at work and started having problems sleeping. I was irritable with my partner and my children. I could see myself falling into depression and I got scared. So I decided to delegate everything I could. I cut down on my hours at work. I went out of town for a weekend to visit my brother, just for a change of scenery. I took an appointment with my psychologist. Within 2 weeks, I was feeling much better. But it made me realize how fragile I still was. Indeed, my mental health has enjoyed a rollercoaster ride since. It’s not all bad. I have been doing more introspection in the last few months than ever and I now have a better idea of where I stand. But it has also been exhausting. Sometimes I’m ok for a week or two. Then it hits me again. Triggers, tears, concentration and irritability problems. Not manageable anymore, but still unacceptable. I am at a crossroad. I could continue walking on the same well known path, rehashing my old unacceptable story, but knowing that at the end of that road, there is quite possibly a cliff. I could also decide to branch off the next path and really commit myself to embark on the acceptance and forgiveness journey for my own and my family’s sake. I saw my psychologist last week. I had the vague intention of announcing I was ready to let go and really start sorting out my issues, rather than just brushing against them like I’ve been doing for 4 years. I thought I had finally worked out the courage, but I chickened out. At the crossroad stands a giant wall preventing me from branching off. But I know I can’t carry on the main path anymore. So what can I actually do? Dig a hole in the wall? I honestly don’t have the energy. Look harder for a door that I could have missed? All this introspection made my vision blurry, I can’t focus anymore. Wait for a door to magically appear when time comes? Actually, I think I’m gonna do just that. I’m gonna to camp at the crossroad for a while. Make myself comfy, cook corn on the cobs on the fire (never been a fan of marshmallow or sausages…), play some folk songs on my guitar and chill. Forget about introspection and take some distance from my trauma. Recharge my batteries. And wait for this door to magically appear. Then I shall have to strength to open it. I hope. Who knows, maybe the door is already there and I’m just too blinded to see it right now. Complement: What I can’t let go My anger. It gives me the energy to write, to organize c-sections support group meetings, to militate for perinatal rights. Being naturally lazy, I doubt I would bother doing all that if I was serene about the birth of my children. My pain. I didn’t give birth. I wasn’t even conscious when my eldest was birth. Both times I was separated from my baby. I was never able to breastfeed exclusively. Having another child under the circumstances is out of the question. There’s a big part of my femininity I will never have access to. My pain is the only tie I’ve got to all that. What will I have left if I let it go? My resentment. Why did my midwife tell me birth center was equivalent to home birth when the latter shows less transfer to the hospital? Why all those unnecessary vaginal exams? Why did everyone start scaring me as soon as I reached 41 weeks of pregnancy? Why, WHY did the anesthetist put me under general anesthesia WITHOUT MY CONSENT when nothing in my medical file can justify such an extreme measure? Say it with me: UNACCEPTABLE! My guilt. Why did I make big decisions so lightly? Why did I trust my midwife so blindly? My responsibility. In the end, it was my responsibility to inform myself correctly. Was I misguided? Yes. But did I take the time to really wonder where it would make more sense to do such an intimate act as giving birth? No. Did I research the interventions that were performed on me? No. This is my share of blame. “I don’t want to “shave” my faults away, I want to leave them intact and, eventually, learn to accept them. The birth of my children couldn’t have been less empowering. Maybe this could be? (View Empowerment and hairy legs: Accepting strength over weakness)”. My “high” expectations. Wait a second! The vast majority of women are able to accomplish the extraordinary AND ordinary exploit of giving birth naturally when they give themselves and are given the chance. In the end, I was aspiring to only one thing: being normal. No, I do not find this extravagant. Did your birth reach your expectations? Is there anything from your birth experience that you aren't ready to let go of yet? For another glimpse in Eli's healing story, read her previous guest posts: Also Related:
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July 2015
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