Today, I want to share my thoughts about birth trauma. I know I haven’t published a blog post for a few weeks. The past few weeks have been so busy for me. Not only did I buy a home and move into it, but I have also been working on a secret project. I’ll talk more about that later.
Earlier this week, I shared this quote on Instagram:
“Healing from a traumatic birth doesn’t have a finish line. I will carry my trauma with me for the rest of my life. Over time it just becomes easier to carry.”
And it really resonated with people. It has been my most liked and most shared post ever. Both on Instagram and Facebook.
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It was awful.
The worst day of my life definitely was the day Cora was born.
“This day last year, my eyes swelled so big I couldn’t see.”
“This day last year, I had an EKG.”
“I was released from the hospital this day last year, leaving my baby behind”.
Last night, Steven and I were talking about future children.
I am currently working with my doctor (click here to read my health update) to get my body in the best possible place it can be to give myself the best chance. We talk about if we could make it through more miscarriages because I also don’t have great odds for that since I had 3 before Cora.
In short, my body hates pregnancy.
I know pregnancy isn’t the only way to have children. But it really pisses me off that pregnancy is so awful for me. It really makes me mad that the thought of ever being pregnant again makes me sick. I am so jealous of women who have never experienced losses. I am so jealous of those women who don’t develop preeclampsia and carry babies to term. It just isn’t fair.
That mindset is hard to change when you have birth trauma. Trauma doesn’t come and go when it pleases. It is constantly with me. Even the simplest things can trigger it. It really hurts that the worst day of my life was the day my daughter entered the world. It hurts that she spent the first 27 hours of her life not even knowing if I existed. The first person to hold her wasn’t me or her dad. A nurse was her primary caregiver for the first 15 days of her life. And that really sucks.
Cora doesn’t even remember a time when I wasn’t around. She doesn’t remember when I wasn’t there to snuggle her close when she was sad. But I do. I remember all the nights leaving her behind inside the hospital while I walked out empty-handed. I remember the emotions like it was yesterday.
And that’s my birth trauma. It isn’t just the day she let my body. It is the days leading after. It’s the feeling of needing permission to see your baby. It’s needing a nurse to help you shower. It is watching your doctor be puzzled about why your pressures aren’t lowering. The feeling of knowing your body is really sick and no one can help you. That is my birth trauma.
That is my birth trauma.
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If you are a preeclampsia survivor or HELLP syndrome survivor and would like to share your story, please contact me through email at courtney@knockonmotherhood.com. I would love to share your birth trauma story and keep spreading awareness. I am trying to gather as many preeclampsia survivors’ birth stories as possible to spread awareness.
If you are a preemie mom, I would also love to share your story. Please contact me through email at courtney@knockonmotherhood.com.
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Birth trauma is real and it is hard to work through. One of the things that have helped me the most is reading books, listening to podcasts, or talking with others about the realities of birth trauma. Click here to check out this book about birth trauma.
Love you ❤️