On trauma and therapy

As his second birthday approaches, I went down a rabbit hole of adorable videos of Rory. Scrolling his first steps, first birthday, first time he rolled over, first smiles... I got all the way to my very first video of Rory.

Of me and Rory. A glance at the time stamp had me sobbing. It was 35 hours after he was born. 35 hours where I was separated from this tiny being who had just spent so many months as a literal part of me. His first 35 hours. And I missed it. I didn't get to hold him close, to comfort him as he was suddenly an individual separate from me in this world. I grieve those missed hours. The ones that followed in the next week and a half as we both recovered. I'm simultaneously grateful for the care he received in the NICU and resentful that it meant it wasn't me caring for him. I missed it. I wish so badly that we could have had a peaceful beginning, the family bonding and sweet memories from those first days. I missed it.

I am coming to understand that there is a lot of trauma taking up residence in my body when it comes to my birth story. I think I've never been able to fully acknowledge it because there were more pressing matters at hand. My baby was finally here. It was easy to get lost in that and not look too closely at the rest. I didn't really want to. But as I've been working to connect with my body this year, l've felt that sorrow, anger, and anxiety still haunting me. Knowing that it's still here almost two years later has been a sign to me that I cannot process this on my own.

I'm really proud of the step I've made to say yes to therapy and to talk with someone who might be able to help me work through my trauma response and learn to trust my body. Something I'm not sure I've ever done before. But I want to. It hasn't been long, but I already feel a weight lifting. If you're on the fence about talking to someone... this is your sign.