Today's a happy day, not a sad one :) Even though the circumstances weren't ideal (obviously) I got my little guy into the world, proved to myself that I am strong enough to do it, and set out into the hardest time of my life. If ever I feel depressed, I can look back at this and remind myself just how strong I really am.And I am. A year ago I was a few weeks out from my wedding, had just found out I was pregnant... And I was depressed. Not formally diagnosed - I'd seen a psychologist a few times but we didn't get along so I stopped going and thus wasn't diagnosed - but I knew it. I hated myself. Even at what should have been the happiest time of my life, I was sad and angry. Scott and I fought a lot, right up until Ianto died.
Of course, I won't go so far as to say Ianto's death was the best thing that could have happened. Of course not. I'd have to be a heartless bitch to think that. But I think proving to myself that I can deal with such a terrible thing and come out the other side without killing myself (which as you may remember, I had a compulsion to do early on - but do you think I can find the post again?) has partly kicked "depressed me" up the bum and put her at ease.
I also have a theory that my pregnancy/post-birth hormones overwrote my depressed self. That probably makes no sense, and maybe the truth is that I never really had depression to begin with. But what if I'm right? What if some part of my body's chemistry went "well now you know you can give birth, you've achieved your lifelong dream of being a mum..." and switched off the bad stuff for at least a while?
I can still remember so much of those three days in February (and one in March) where I was in the hospital. I remember groggily asking Scott if the baby was okay before we left mum and dad's place. I remember the feeling of the gel on my tummy before the ultrasounds. The way I resolutely wouldn't look at Scott for fear his face would tell me what I didn't want to know. I remember realising that my baby would be stillborn, and what that meant. I remember being terrified of the choice I thought I would have to make - would I push "it" out, or would I have a caesarean? I remember the doctor asking me if she'd seen me the week earlier, and wondering why she was asking. Having to tell Mum that the baby wouldn't be born alive, because she thought "it" would just be premature. Having my brothers and parents in my room, trying to keep our minds off what was happening, but trying to help them come to terms with it as well.
The pethidine injections, which I still feel sometimes. Pretending to be asleep while the midwife talked to Scott about inducing me, because I didn't feel like dealing with the world just then. Crawling into Scott's bed because I couldn't be apart from him just then and I needed someone to hug me. Waking up at 3am, 3:05am, 3:10am, 3:15am, then realising I was in real labour. Dealing with it by myself for a little while before telling Scott I couldn't get back onto the bed after a trip to the toilet. Finally catching the midwives' attention around 7:30ish to tell them what was happening and agreeing to some morphine. Having the drip put in while I was having contractions. Mum arriving to have me pitifully cry "mummy!" and insist she hold her freezing cold hands on my forehead. Having my waters broken and pushing Ianto out all in one push (both head and body came out together). The pain of the cord pulling at me, the relief when it was cut. The disgusting squishy placenta, which is now what I'm dreading most about Cookie's birth.
Holding my little one and trying not to notice "its" floppy head and neck. Looking at "its" little face in wonder. The feeling of accomplishment that I had done it. Being asked if I wanted to know the sex, and quickly cutting off whoever asked to tell Scott to tell me. Scott looking and telling me with his eyes full of tears: "boy. We have a boy." That feeling of "of course he's a boy" when all along we'd been calling him "she"...
I could go on with this forever. But if you're a regular reader of my blog, you'll know it all already. So I'll wrap up with this:
Happy "Half-Birthday", Ianto. I love you, and will do so beyond the day I die. Thank you for choosing me as your Mum. I hope you're as proud of me as I am of you, baby boy. My gorgeous sweet, soft Smudge. (See what I did there?)