|Yes, he got here, but that's NOT all that matters.|
My first reaction.
Complete on the spot bawling my eyes out jealousy and grief.
I'm not proud of it, and after I had a few minutes I was excited and thrilled and proud for her. He really is an adorable little boy and she did an amazing job growing him and getting him here.
But how long? How many of my friends and how many births? Until I have a successful VBAC? What if I never do? (Heaven forbid.)
It's been 10 months and 17 days. Each day I'm one step closer. It takes time. Time. More time.
It's a healing process. A process that takes a step forward with every birth. Each one causes me to work through everything that went on that day a little bit more, to go a little bit deeper. I'm realizing more and more that a lot of my hurt and anger has more to do with my treatment postpartum rather than the C-section itself. So now I'm trying to figure out how to process and deal with that.
10 months and 17 days.
I almost feel as if I'm rehashing this yet again, even though it seems as if I always come back to it every few months. But hey, it's my blog, you don't have to read it... and maybe someone else needs to hear that they're not alone either, that it's normal to be going through this. Still.
10 months and 17 days. Maybe tomorrow it won't feel so fresh.
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