Making a Comeback

What keeps me going when the shit hits the fan? Good question. One that has been haunting me in light of recent events. I am still crawling out of that puddle of tears. That torrential black current that drags you relentlessly across the jagged floor, allowing you to catch glimpses of light for a fleeting moment until your body gets slammed against the next unseen rock. There’s a big scary beast named Depression that lives down there, that silently eats away at your soul, leaving you weak and numb, and then paralyzed and completely helpless. Your chest screams as the beast rips your heart out, and you never knew how empty you could feel until you have no soul, no heart. Maybe you get angry, or maybe you were like me this time and just gave up, but something pulls you through. And then one day, you realize that while you are gasping for air you are finally able to drink it in, and laughter slowly restores your stolen soul, and your beating heart is placed, though shattered, back into your hands to hold and nurture. Somehow you find yourself at the edge of that awful black pool of water looking back, and although you can still touch that raw place you have just come from, you realize that somehow you will be OK. I have been wandering around trying to figure out just how it is that I am standing knee deep at the other side of that puddle, until one day I realized that it was simple. I found the strength and courage to continue on and refused to drown because of love.

72 Hours

I went into labor in the afternoon on the 13th of December. Since I hadn’t ever done this sort of thing before and wanting to finally be done with being pregnant, I made sure I kept moving to make sure labor didn’t slow down or stop on me. Sure enough, after making beds, walks, baths, and five dozen baked Christmas cookies, we were all convinced that I was indeed in labor. I will make this part of the story very brief. I was in labor with hard and heavy contractions every five minutes. I opted for an epidural at the 14th hour, which did nothing but take the pain away. I was given more drugs to dilate. Not making any progress they decided I should let the epidural wear off. Exhausted, I fell back into the excruciating pain of labor. With Andy and a midwife on either side, me pushing, one doctor pulling with all her might on the vacuum attached to Emma’s head and another pushing down with all her might on my stomach, Emma was finally born on December 14th, 22 hours later. Who ever said that giving birth is an incredible experience can kiss my ass. (No hard feelings to those who actually enjoyed this part of the ride.) I will be scheduling a cesarean the next time around.