I am frustrated tonight.
I don't even know why.
Actually, on second thought, I do.
I am grieving.
People who haven't dealt with PPOCD probably are wondering why the heck I would be grieving, HA, if you only knew. If you only knew all that has been lost in the last 3 years since my precious daughter birth. All the milestones that went unnoticed, all the smiles missed, all the tears shed, all the thoughts fought. It wasn't the way it was supposed to be.
"Stop right there."
That's what my counselor told me, as I sat crying my eyes out on his black leather couch. He leaned over on his squeaky brown computer chair and leveled his eyes at me. "what was it you just said"? He questioned.
Sniffing, I softly replied, "Ummm, you mean, about how I am grieving?"
"No no, after that, the last thing you said."
"That it wasn't the way it was supposed to be?"
"Yes, that's it. 'it wasn't the way it was supposed to be' let that sink in for a little while. Think on that though for a moment...."
As large tears rolled silently down my cheeks like two glistening trails, I thought on how much my life hasn't been what I thought it would be. How painful the journey has been, and all the dreams that died a slow painful death as reality swooped in and brought about my hopes hideous, murderous demise.
I fought for control as my shoulders shook with the weight of my grief. I was embarrassed to be showing my deep sorrow in front of this man that I hardly knew, but in that moment, he knew my secrets. My deep rooted disappointment and heartache over something that I couldn't control. It was all I could do not curl up in the fetal position on the floor crying out my loss.
As I let the tears fall, it became clear to me that a huge portion of my grief came with the thought of Gracies delivery. It had been such a traumatic event, it felt as though my child had been stolen from me. Not that I had birthed my sweet baby, but that she had been brutally taken out of my body against my will and withheld from me. The day she was born, they didn't let me see her for a good 15 minutes after she was born. I cried and cried to see my baby, but they kept shushing me. My husband actually came over and showed me a picture of her, before I actually got to see her. I got to quickly kiss her nose and then literally a minute later she and my husband left for the nursery. I didn't see either of them until several hours later. I cried so hard after they left that I threw up.
I have said those exact words over in my mind so many thousands of times, I couldn't even begin to give you an accurate count. I had an image in my head of what pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood would be like. It was all wrapped up in this neat little box with a pretty little bow displaying a card labeled: Leigh, your perfect life. It didn't matter that I knew the statistics, read all the books, knew that life throws you curve balls, that stuff was for other people. Not me. I wasn't going to have a c-section, I wasn't going to get PPOCD. That was not going to happen to me!
Oh, but it did. And it stole my perfect dream and gave me a nightmare to live through.
By no means do I mean my daughter, I am referring to the ppocd, just to clarify.
So I grieve. The death of what I wanted. The death of what could have been. But most of all I grieve simply because it hurts. And that is ok. Today I am going to let myself grieve. This is a day to day battle...I am going to allow myself to have a sad day.
But hopefully, you are having a happy one :)