We all have those triggers. The song that takes you back to your senior year. The scent that reminds you of a great vacation, or a loved one. The book that is a porthole back to the labor and delivery unit....
Yes, friends. Just got back from the library. And my first public meltdown.
It was Ricki Lake's Your Best Birth.
The book I was reading when Leila was born.
The book I took with me to the hospital to pass the time.
The book I had to stare at on my overbed table afterward. At 4am. And feel the sting of the irony.
Not only was I not able to give my baby the very best start in life. But I also couldn't do it drug-free, as I'd hoped.
I was begging the nurse for something to take away the pain. And when she pushed some medicine into my IV, I realized the physical pain was nothing. It was the pain of my heart breaking that was killing me.
So it wasn't a good time to see that book again. Looking for something light to read, and there's that familiar cover. Like a punch to the stomach. A ball off wool down my throat.
I feel like I'm dying. This pain will kill me.