Fine Print

This woman, she speaks my language.

Carol was honestly the single most encouraging person to me post-c-section.

Her second, Collier, and my first, Greta,

were born on the same day in the same hospital.

We recovered just rooms away from each other. 

Alex, Carol, and her husband, Drew, 

actually went to college together at Wake Forest,

but I had never had the pleasure of meeting sweet Carol

until the day after our babes were born.

I have not written about Greta's birth because 

it has left me truly humbled, and honestly, pretty speechless.

It was brutal.

It was harder than hard.

Looking back on those 5 days spent in the hospital and a visit to the ER, 

I can't seem to find the words that would accurately describe

the immense pain, the immense joy, and the immense frustration

that came of that beautiful day.

I had a couple of complications that muddled my "experience" of having a child.

And you know who I turned to in my darkest hours?

Carol.

Sweet, just-met-her-in-my pajamas Carol.

While I am sure she has counseled so many women

 through the brutiful experience that is a c-section,

I feel like she was directly referring to me in her quote below:

I mourn AND rejoice for my c-sections and I am called to do the same for others – 

for I know the heart of a c-section. 

 I check-in.  I talk openly about the gross details of the after-math. 

 I name the rational and irrational feelings I had.  

And I hold the hope when others are too lost in the pain of recovery – 

preaching the good news that beautiful new life is born from the death of our expectations 

and the endurance through the long nights.

And, I am here to say, YES, CAROL, YES! 

THANK YOU 

for preaching to me when I was lost in pain.

THANK YOU

for holding onto hope for me when I could not.

THANK YOU

for your transparency toward me and to others.

It is a gift.

THANK YOU.