It took what seemed like hours for the uncontrollable shaking to dissipate. As the life saving medicine flowed through me, taking my blood pressure down, slowly but surely, the magnesium slowing time as it did it's job of protecting my brain from a seizure or a stroke, which silently I thought I had already had. It wasn't until 4am that I felt I could speak without slurring my words. For two solid days I watched at time ticked by, afraid to close my eyes, afraid I wouldn't wake up. I smiled through my fears and made jokes with the nurses, amused my parents and kissed my husband, as the fear ate it's way through me. Then it was time, my 24hrs was up, and I was out of the woods, though I felt lost in the forest. I had never been in this place, I felt as though my body failed, though it did it's duty swiftly. I went into birth confident and present, and left with a fear and a desire to never again play a role in birthing. That evening when my children slept I broke, I let the tears finally flow free, leaning on my mother I shouted "this was hard!" I sobbed, angry, sore, and broken. I began to see things that weren't there as my head pounded in my ears, and my vision failed, utterly sleep deprived I finally slept.
Writing through tears because in order to heal you must release, in order to mend you must forgive, in order to live you must place one foot in front of the other, hug your children and smile. The road to healing is long, and though the fear does not consume my thoughts, it's there, under the surface.