I remember the bad when I look back.
When I was embarrassed, when I was mad.
When plans went wrong, when I said something hurtful.
When I was ignored or left behind.
When my son was born I was overwhelmed with sad, angry, resentful feelings.
In the days after coming home from the hospital, my husband helped me remember all of the little details that went into our son's delivery. I wrote down what I was attached to in the hospital, everything, because I knew I would never remember on my own.
I never do.
Details are not always my thing.
In all of my resentment and pain I also wrote a letter to my hospital. Instead of a complaint letter (and I did have a couple things to complain about) I wrote a heartfelt note mentioning the kindness, the points of light in my stay from the staff.
The nurse who changed my son's diaper when I was alone at night while chatting with me, the one who cared for me during my labor, the one who comforted me when my supply was slow coming in.
Doing that helped set aside the anger at having to wait hours and hours for a lactation consultant while my son failed to wake up to nurse, the frustration of being stuck in bed an extra day with monitoring equipment, the exhaustion of being to stressed to sleep in the strange white room.
When I look back and feel the knot tighten again, I try to remember late at night, holding my sleeping son son, quiet Hawaiian music filling the private space. The look on our families faces as they saw him for the first time. The smile on my husband's face holding his son.
My smile heals me as I remember the good.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee- Muhammed Ali
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