I feel after three years I am ready to talk about my truth. For all the parents out there, I have a question. Have you ever seen any of those diaper commercials where the mom has a baby and then holds it and it's the most perfect moment? Or movie after movie where delivery may be hard but they always have that moment of bonding? Doesn't that seem like it's how it should be?
Unfortunately for my husband and I, this was not the case. This was not even remotely close to the case. Unfortunately our story was nothing like anything you see in a movie or on those commercials. Before I go any further I want to just say my son is fine. He is here with us and healthy and for that we will be forever thankful. That does not negate the fact that we did suffer a traumatic event but we did survive.
My youngest son was born 3 years ago and honestly I'm still dealing with the aftermath of the delivery. Although I am physically fine, mentally I'm still struggling. I have shared my story with people close to me and people who I felt I could trust with it. When I'm ready I will share it here with all of you.
I'm sure by now you're asking why I'm even sitting here typing this. I know my family is going to ask the same question, at some point I may even ask myself the question. I feel after these three years telling my story is important. It's important to me because writing helps me heal but I also just want something good to come of it. If by telling my story I help just one person than it will all be worth it to me.
So who am I? I am a wife and mom of 2 boys. I am also a daughter, friend, crossfitter, teacher, and blogger. I am also someone struggling with anxiety and PTSD. These struggles are present everyday, even if you can't see them. I am someone who usually keeps all the emotions hidden but I think it's time for them to come out. I am strong and I am a fighter. These are things I have come to realize about myself over these last 3 years. I've learned so much about myself that I felt the need to show you that you are strong too.
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