Some friends of mine are expecting their first child and I just heard that their child should be born sometime today. This news makes me cry happy tears! Then I think about the birth of my own child and the tears stop.
I know I was pretty much terrified of becoming a mother. I know I wasn't thrilled since I never wanted to have kids. I know I was worried about how my relationship with my husband was going to change. I know there is more to my lack of emotion.
I built up emotional walls during my pregnancy. I started shutting down emotionally while preparing to give birth. I did both to save myself and my child.
I shut down so much that I didn't write, didn't think, didn't process. It wasn't safe. And I needed to keep us safe most of all.
One day, the baby in my belly kicked so hard and wore me out so fast that I just wanted him to stop. I didn't want him inside me anymore. I didn't want him inside me in the first place! He was an unwelcome intruder.
And then it started - the connections between an unwanted pregnancy and the abuse I have survived.
The abuse and the baby were both unwanted and unwelcome. Both took over my body and used it against me. Both made me feel terrified. Both stripped me of control. Both changed my relationships with other people. Both made the world around me change. It was too much! I wanted out. I wanted the cowards way out... I started figuring which was the sharpest blade in the house. They say that if the blade is sharp enough, it doesn't hurt at first. I even decided that where I bled out didn't really matter, as long as it wasn't on furniture, because my husband wouldn't stay here long enough for the mess to matter.
My husband...
It took an internal debate - a short one, but still a debate - to decide that I couldn't put my husband through that. To take his wife and child in one fell swoop... it would break him. I couldn't stand the thought of causing him so much pain. So I started shutting down and building walls.
I didn't write about it, I didn't tell anyone and I tried to unthink the whole thing. I was simply trying to survive. I still am, to some extent.
The physical healing process has not been easy. There has been a lot of pain and discomfort and unpleasantness in a part of my body that is very sensitive. Very sensitive physically and connected to a whole mess of emotional baggage. I am slowly begining to feel human. I am starting to think that my body might heal completely someday.
If only the rest of me could heal completely.
I know there was joy when my son was born - I couldn't stop smiling when I was holding him for the first time - but I didn't feel it. To me, the whole birthing process was little more than a medical procedure.
I never got mad and yelled at my husband. I never did the "touch me, don't touch me" thing. I know that not every woman goes through that but... I was calmer than the medical staff. My husband was the most emotional person in the room and the medical staff fawned over our son more than I did. I feel like I have deprived my son the specialness of his own birth.
I have to move forward. I cannot stay in the past and wish things had been better. Things are better! Right now, in this moment, I am in this moment with my son. I am present. I am tearing down the walls and becoming emotionally available.
Things are better.
Things are getting better.
While "better" doesn't always mean happy, it does mean healthy.
Things may not get happier but they will get (and are getting) healthier.
All is well.
