My Papa’s Waltz

I wish I could tell you that I forgive you.

I know it was your first time on Earth. There was no instruction manual to tell you how to be a good dad, but at the same time you had to know. Could you not see it or did you not care that the stones you were throwing were actually boulders?

I’m working on that part.

I wish I could tell you that I’m sorry.

Sorry for not trying harder. Sorry for not working harder. Sorry for making everything hard. Sorry for not being what you wanted me to be. Sorry for being resentful and angry and hurt.

But I’m not.

It’s been 15 years.

I think it’s Pillsbury.

But on I go.

I fail more often than I succeed. I do more harm than good. I try very hard only to fall short on every situation and every circumstance.

But I couldn’t imagine my life where I called you just to talk to you, or tell you how I’m feeling when I need advice.

I can’t imagine my life where you’re more than just an existing factor.

Something doesn’t feel right. I feel a little like I’m drowning again.

There isn’t enough air in my lungs to keep me afloat.

I keep saying that I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I can’t tell if that’s what it is or if every feeling I’ve stuffed down for 28 years is starting to crawl it’s way out.

Growing up, I didn’t know my dad had trauma. I didn’t know that was why he did the things he did. The ONLY thing that I knew was that he was angry. He was a horribly angry person, and I had to and would always have to tiptoe around him to keep him happy. I didn’t know that his trauma was the reason for his drinking, I thought it was because he didn’t love me enough to stop.

Our daughter doesn’t know that we have trauma caused by our own parents. The one thing that she will know is how we cope with it. When we are triggered, we can’t expect our daughter to understand that and to excuse our actions.

If we want to break the cycle of emotionally immature parents, there will be sometimes that we need to put our feelings aside and make sure that she understands her own feelings and emotions. We need to put our feelings aside and make sure her needs are met.

“You are more than your mistakes.”

I had a csection on Thursday and it went so smoothly. My baby was perfect. My stay in mother/baby went well. I was over the moon. We went home on Saturday the and we worked hard to adjust to newborn life. It was going well until…

That following Tuesday (5 days after having my baby) I was feeding her at home when I got the most intense abdominal pressure I had ever felt. I took what was prescribed to me and after an hour it didn’t touch it. My pain had actually gotten worse.

We ran to a local ER. I was short of breath, I couldn’t breathe, I was sobbing and crying out in pain at this point. Barely able to get out of the car. I went up to the window and checked in. The poor woman working the desk was terrified and tried to get me a bed immediately, and one of her supervisors came out to talk to her and I could see them pointing to me… we sat for 20 minutes. I was doubled over- still crying, still gasping for air. I had made sure to tell them that I was 5 days postpartum. I made sure to tell them that I’m having severe pain from a major abdominal surgery. I made sure to tell them I just had a baby.

I had my husband go and ask how much longer it would be. The woman told us over an hour, and there were 14 people in line ahead of me. He got me back to the car, and we ended up driving a little over an hour to the hospital that I delivered at. There, I sat in the waiting room for maybe three minutes, they took my vitals, saw that I was emergent, and had me in a room within 5 minutes. 

What we originally thought was an infection of my incision site turned out to be an infection in my uterine lining (or postpartum endometritis). No one has told me what could have caused it, or why it was me that got it. My stomach was so swollen to the touch it- was unbearable. I couldn’t move or bend without yelling out for days.

I also tested positive for parainfluenza while I was in the ER. Which is terrifying because I have been the person taking care of my sweet bean the most. Heck, the only places I have been were my house, the hospital, and the pediatrician.

I sent my husband to the doctor several days later when he started feeling bad so that he could be tested and he came back positive too. So now, on top of caring extra for me, we need to be unbelievably cautious around baby now too.

The only thing I can think of is that the universe is random and mean. My hormones have been horrible since delivery and I haven’t stopped crying. Before all this happened, all I could think was, “my body hurts so much and it’s making me miss out on all of the precious days where she will never be this little again.” I felt like I was taking it for granted. And then this happens and I’ve literally missed out on days of her life. I heard a new cry that she never did before now. She turned a week old and I wasn’t even there with her.