Dready Mama Head

I got a new water bottle on Thursday. I see a lady falling off the edge, barley hanging on. It makes me feel like I have chosen good company.

I've driven twice with Lazadae and no Dave. Both times to appointments in Lake Oswego. The first time last week I had a minor panic attack; my mouth went dry, my breathing ceased and I felt very unsafe - like I was an assault victim. Like it can happen again at any moment.

And that's part of how I feel when I have a moment to my head. During these times I don't even believe I was in labor. It feels like a Cesarean was just done to me without my consent. And none of that is true.

Yesterday, the second time I was alone with my thoughts with nothing to distract me I saw my head as a very unhealthy space. I just started crying and I wasn't even aware of any thoughts I was having. It just all feels like too much.

At this point, early on in my mental recovery (which actually hasn't even begun), I am grateful to have a beautiful daughter to distract me from my head. If it wasn't for Lazadae, I would be laying in my grief, absolutely crushed by dark head.

I'm taking homeopathics to help with the emotional scarring of my birth. I'm also going to go to counseling - a woman who specializes in birth trauma. I don't want these thoughts to start creeping up when I am at home, busy with the life of a newborn.

This blog is a part of that healing. This is my outlet and I want to try to make time to use it. This morning I woke before my daughter (our queen size bed feels small for all three of us sometimes) and I took a long, hot shower to condition the dreads out. (One time in college I told Dave that if I have kids I'm going to grow dreads as an effort to maintain my coolness. Well, the dreads now come unwanted from days of sitting with my curly head resting on the back of a chair).

And now I'm here. Writing.