First… I want to point out that this post has been sitting in my drafts for a couple months… I have been wanting to take a photo of my scars (sort of like I did here, but more)……… and talk about some more personal things. It’s been so hard to actually hit publish. BUT, I did. Whew.
When I first opened these images in my picture viewer: I teared up. Not because of the permanent reminder that now scars my body, but because of how much I’ve grown since Ruari’s birth.
How I’ve changed and taken what happened with me to turn it into a positive. How I went from extreme postpartum depression to where I am today. Yes I have bad days. Yes I still randomly cry about what happened. But, it happened. I accept it (most of the time).
I think back to the early days after my daughters birth. The concerns I had: is it worth the risk to get pregnant again? Is it worth risking my life? Will I accept the fact that Ruari will be the only child I can ever carry myself? Will my husband still love me even though I can’t carry another baby (one of my more crazy postpartum thoughts)?
Now here I am… Wondering about surrogacy or adoption. Are they too much stress and money? No, I’m not giving up. I just often wonder if it will ever actually happen. I know now, 22 months after Ruari’s birth, that I am happy and content and blessed with just the one child. With just her. I’m lucky to even have a daughter… While others are never able to even have one. But, I do want more kids. Not just for me, but for Ruari. I know she would be so happy and amazing as an only child, but having siblings is pretty amazing too. I couldn’t imagine never knowing my sister and brother.
So, here I am… Almost 2 years later. I remember when Ruari was almost 3 weeks old… Mike had to help me upstairs and into the shower since my blood loss was so great (even holding my baby was hard)…. This was the first time I told mike I was ‘ok’ to take a shower alone: I didn’t think I would pass out… This was a big step for me since he had been hanging out in the bathroom with me since my surgery just in case I passed out. He left the room… I balled. I cried and cried and cried in the shower. What will my future be like? How will I ever move on from this? How? Well. I am. I almost have. I did. I’m good. I’m happy. Sometimes it’s REALLY hard… just writing this post makes me cry. But, I’m doing pretty darn well.