My finger accidentally pressed publish on this one. Maybe it was meant for me to put it out to the public because I am figuring out how to delete it and am having little success. I won’t edit.
Here is a true account of what has happened this week in real time.
I had this post planned to be written since I began blogging. I look at this saved title, open it up, begin to write- and shut it down. It is a topic that exposes me. It reveals a raw wound that is currently healing with a thin layer of fresh skin. It still feels like a knife piercing my heart; sometimes the feeling of panic caging across my chest; all the while, I’m getting better at accepting that what has happened, has passed. We are okay now.
So here I am, this post opened up, operating on broken sleep, and I’m ready. Fingers posed to type…
Yesterday, my stress levels were triggered unexpectedly. I took Butterball for a walk in his pram. We passed by a local Woolworths and I popped in to pick up some bread. I went to pay and the till operator asked,
Would you like to make a two dollar donation to the Royal Children’s Hospital?
I agreed straight away without hesitation. A voice inside me encourages me to donate ten dollars, but I keep quiet and complete the transaction.
Walking home, I have flashbacks of THAT night in emergency. Images of Butterball hooked up to tubes occasionally reappear in my mind. I brush it off because I’m much more resilient now. I was caught off guard.
After dinner, I am at the sink washing the pots. My heart hurts a bit. The thought of Entero Virus jabs at my brain. I recognise that I was triggered from earlier today and let the thought go. Breathe it out, let it go, we are okay now.
I am currently lying in bed typing this post and my heart has pangs. But I am proud of myself. I did not meltdown. I remain in the present and the reality that my family are in now. It is damn good. We are okay now.
Everything is fine. No thoughts, no images of the past. I am getting so much better at handling this distant memory. The most amazing midwife, Jane, at the Children’s Hospital did say that this will be looked back on as a blip in Butterball’s life. Ten and a half months later, I finally see the truth in her words. We are okay now.