I love a good birth story…the lead up, the drama, the drugs, the no drugs, the tears and the trauma. I could sit and listen to them all day long.
I wrote a few months back about the different stories about coming home after babies. When my little man was born a friend from a few years back sent me a message asking for details of my birth story and so I obliged. It was long, descriptive, a few twists and turns and a great ending – just like every story should be. My friend wrote back and explained that she thought that the birth of my son had been a corrective experience…a term given to those experiencing something similar to one you endured in your past however the splendidness of the new experience cancelled out the trauma of before.
I had been a little deflated when I found out my son was a son. I just assumed that I made girls – there was nothing other than my daughter that convinced me this was the case. Part of the reason for wanting a daughter was about the idea of a ‘do over’. I had this notion that given how hard the first 6 weeks of her little life had been for me that having a girl the second time around would give me the chance to reverse history (um did I mention I often put a little bit of pressure on myself??)
But things werent reversed.
When my little boy entered the world things were different, not just because of the additional appendage, the different hospital, the different father and husband, they were different because he was a new person. He wasn’t a do over. My brother in law bought him a little t-shirt that said ‘so far this is the oldest Ive ever been’. I laughed at the shirt when I first saw it, but then I saw it for what it was…it reminded me that he wasn’t going to transform the past, he was just going to be part of a new present for me. It wasn’t possible for him to do any more than that.
We often ask people who have experienced awful things what they would have done differently if they could go back in time. The reality is we cant go back, its not possible. What happens happens and what we have now – whether that involves old, new or different people (big and small) is just that – its what we have.
Merry Christmas to everyone that has taken the time to read my blog this year…in the week where some of us remember a little boy that was born a very long time ago I’m going to remember my own little boy who didn’t scream ‘do over’ when he arrived, he just screamed (and secretly I pondered the idea of putting him back where he came from when he wouldn’t stop…but then he did)