Deep

Post Traumatic Stress.

Today was the first time I heard these words, from a professional, in describing myself.

I had another session with my councilor today and it was a rough one. Interesting, because just a few days ago I was contemplating canceling as I didn't feel like I had anything new/different to talk about. Boy, was I wrong.

These doctors certainly have a way to get you to dig deep. Deeper than I have dared to go. I went to a place in my mind, in my heart today where I haven't allowed myself to go in a very long time.

Compartmentalizing. That is what she called it. When you tuck away feelings, memories in a neat little "box" and bury it deep... in an effort to protect yourself and others.

I have been having these flashbacks. Flashbacks to the day before I birthed Nicholas. The day before we held him in our arms. The day that I lay in sheer horror, in a hospital, with my baby boy kicking away inside of me, at the thought of what we had to do next. The day I felt his very last kick. The day Nicholas' soul left my body forever.

For so long I was focused on the day we laid eyes on him. The day we got to kiss his beautiful face, breathe his pure, gentle smell...the day we said goodbye. I seemed to "forget" or surpress the memories leading up to that moment. Those memories are much too hard to remember, and yet, I did today, in explicit detail.

In between sobs and catching my breath, I described the moment my son died. I described how it felt. I described what I felt. Horror. Shock. Indescribable anguish. Soul searing pain. I remembered the doctors. I remembered their words (the good and the bad). I remembered squeezing my husbands hand and screaming like an animal.... unbelievably unnatural. Unbelievably cruel. I remembered being ushered to our room after the "procedure" was done. A room where I would labour my dead baby. A room where I would wait to meet our beautiful son. A room where my body would just not let go. I laboured for hours and hours as doctors and nurses came in and out like we were going through a normal process...

For so long I have blocked these memories from my mind. But now, they creep up on me... in my dreams... as I give the kids a bath... as I hold Madison in my arms... as I give the boys a kiss goodnight... they haunt me... they follow me...they don't allow me to rest.

And then a ladybug lands on my shoulder, as he did this afternoon, in the middle of my driveway... I feel a sense of calm. A sense of understanding. A sense that my baby boy is with me always... as he is always with me.