coffee=clarity?

I feel like I have about three or four different blog posts running through my head tonight.  Probably because I had coffee tonight and I dont usally drink coffee because of it's hyperactive effect on me.  The more plausible and true reason would be that I have had an emotional weekend with different events, conversations, and happenings and I am trying to compartmentalize and organize all of them. 

I had a lovely time tonight, coffee with girlfriends, and chocolate donuts, and conversations and a total of 3 Chris's.  Apparantly in the 70's, Christina and variations of Christina were popular name choices for a little girl.  Here in my town, in my circle of friends, I know of at least 8 Chris's.  This makes me smile and giggle.  But I digress from my original train of blogging thoughts.  My mind is scattered and I am feeling the need to filter for my own sanity, one issue at a time is all I can handle.  Yet, I am balancing or trying to process at least four seperate issues. 


What is it about women, about moms, that when we get together we discuss birth stories, labor stories?   Tonight during coffee we did, we discussed birth stories.  Not horror or scary stories but entertaining and informative and beautiful stories.  It was nice because no one was comparing or contrasting or stating that her birth was better or more affirming.  There wasn't a debate over natural versus epidural or casearan, which for me was very refreshing.  I have been in those discussions before and they can make  birth, something so beautiful, turn into an ugly heated accusatory topic. 

 The topic of birth and others' stories caught me off guard tonight, I am finding more and more things are catching me offguard lateley!  It was my first face to face discussion with other women about birth, after my grueling and traumatic birth of Caleb.  The discussion also occuring soon after a viewing of "Birth in America," a new documentary of one couple's birth journey.  I watched the movie at a screening on Friday night and acutally left midway through with tears in my eyes and almost in a state of panic. I could not finish the movie, I left briskly walking for my car with such a need to escape.  Nothing against the movie, my heart and state of mind just too freshly wounded from my own painful birth event.  While watching the movie I was confronted with my own feeling and loss of control during Caleb's birth.  Emotions I had buried came quickly to the surface and I was forced to face them.  I faced them for all of about five mintues on my way out of the theatre and my drive home.  I came home and held my baby and refused to think of anything but the feeling of him in my arms and his immediate needs of food and sleep.  Once he was asleep, I had calmed my self and proceded to drive back to the theatre and assure my friends I was fine.  Ha, fine, really?  More like in denial and happily so. 


And so guess what happened when the birth conversation came up tonight?  I actually enjoyed my one friend's lighthearted and somewhat comical home birth stories.  One, she can tell a great story; two, they are great stories: and three, I can acknowledge and celebrate that birth is beautiful and life is beautiful.  Others began to tell their stories and it was fascinating to get to know this side of my friends; of the moments that led up to them becoming mothers.  Then a part of me started thinking of my own births, I have had four.  I have four incredible children.  Unfortunately, my mind is stuck, stuck on the traumatic and scary birth of Caleb.  I have heartwarmng and funny moments in the births of my girls but my mind and my heart only quickly visit those before everything goes back to the moments and events of Caleb's birth.  And tonight I felt stuck, stuck in that feeling of vulnerabilty and fear, of violation and a total lack of control.  Calling his birth jarring is an understatement, perhaps the biggest understatement of my lifetime.  I had to leave the table tonight and go to the bathroom, for my own comfort.  Yep, that is what happened, I became emotional and had to shelter myself, ESCAPE!  

 Not one of my friends tonight would mind my tears or my sadness, they are all generous and kind.  My own pride and coping mechanisms would not allow me to break down, a few tears is fine but more than that is unacceptable.  So I collected myself and returned to the table and was able to share a little of his birth story.  I am thankful they listened with interest and kindness, more thankful than I could ever express in words on a paper.  I know Caleb's birth was not all trauma, there were moments of grace.  I also fully recongnize that my son is a living miracle boy, that I also am fortunate to be alive.  So easlily I could have lost my son or my own life.  I have shared some of the emotional trauma from our time in the NICU.  I have not shared of the other logistics of Caleb's birth or the 'story' of his birth.  After this weekend and tonight, I have realized that I need to share and speak of it. 


For so long and for several reasons, I did not speak of the trauma of Caleb's birth.  I did not want to scare others or make birth seem more scary than it needs to be.  Most births are not like his, most births are not as risky or frightening.   I did not want my birth to turn into a discussion of the statistics or talking points on c-sections or prematurity.  I did not want to have to explain or justify my c-section.  I was also dealing with guilt issues, knowing my pre-existing condition was the cause for my high risk pregnancy.  The guilt is something I constantly have to check myself on, and one of the many reasons I am thankful for my faith.  I was also jealous of others who had full term pregnancies and easy, breezy deliveries.  I didnt want to show the green-eyed monster to others.  I also was busy coping with other major issues for Caleb and so my own emotional needs were put on hold.  I had other pressing traumas to struggle through, more tangible, visible issues.  


  In these months we have been home, I have shared in confidence with others of my trauma only to have them say I should just be thankful for Caleb.  Oww, that hurts on so many levels!!!!  Each day I am thankful for my beautiful son.  But cliches and feel good sentiments do not erase bad memories or the deep, dark feelings and events I have been through.  And so I did not speak.  I did not deal, except for brief moments and then I would talk myself out of deeply feeling or recongizing my hurt. 


Coping. Denial,...Keep on keeping on. 


Tonight in the midst of coffee and girlfriends, I realized a few things...
Timing is everything.  It is time for me to deal.  And so first I want to say, I have had beautiful births.  I have some funny moments in each of my births, even Caleb's.  I am thankful I was able to give birth, to carry children in my womb.  But, I have had hard births.  I have had scary births.  I have also expereienced trauma that broke my heart, shattered my peace, stole my feeling of control and privacy.  I can rejoice in the gift of a son, a courageous son  healed by God,  while recognizing that the events of his birth caused much emotional pain.  And so in the weeks ahead, I hope to take time to confront these events, to examine and think upon them.  I will not dwell on the things I cannot change but I do feel the need to at least speak of them, or write of them. 
I am a firm believer in being who you are.  I don't want pretences. I want authenticity.  I am so thankful for the others who take me as I am, who lovingly and graciously allow me to be broken.  Thankful that others do not pity me or try to "fix" my brokenness.  I am asking and trying to allow God to reshape my brokenness.  I need not pity only grace.
  I'm Chris, I am.  (we also talked of Dr. Seuss tonight)