A Letter...

Dear You Know Who You Are,

In light of yesterday's post on my being mad, I thought it best to address why (at least partially why) my days are spent living in the past.

I should have had this on my to-do list as I've been planning a letter of this sort for quite some time.  I just haven't had the courage to put pen to paper. But seeing as there has yet to be any closure for me, I felt this might be a therapeutic exercise in not just release, but possibly even forgiveness.

Consider this public diatribe the best, most gentle emotion I could muster. Especially since I have wanted nothing more then for this to end up in your mailbox...with a few more choice words included.

So I hope you're reading. In fact...I'll count on it that you are. Regardless, I will consider myself done with this...with my hurt...and with you as soon as I hit the post button. Suffice it to say, this letter and my washing my hands of my experience is the first step (in what I'm sure are many) to my piecing my faith, my self-esteem, and my heart back together after what you put me through.

First of all...to call yourself a midwife is comical. To label yourself as a helper is laughable. To claim your services a ministry is blasphemous.

You have scarred me for life in attempting what you knew from the beginning you were not capable of. You have taken my dreams and ideas of what birth is and you have jaded me. You have given good midwives a bad name. You have made me doubt my body...the process...and trust.

After preaching how to dissolve fear and build confidence...you were the one that instilled fear in me and shot the amount of confidence I had in my body to have my baby. I have had to forgive myself time and time again for what you did...or didn't do rather. It wasn't ME (or my issues) that was preventing my labor from progressing as you stated over and over. No. It was you. My body was simply protecting itself and the baby within me from you and your warped sense of birth.

You gave up. You grossly overestimated your qualifications. You wanted to leave me when I was 8cm. You argued with me. You lied. You even told me you were in no condition to help me since I'd been in labor for so long. 

You were supposed to lend encouragement.  Comfort.  Sincerity.  You asked me three days before I went into labor what I wanted my birth to be.  And my answer was simply...the calmest, most stress-free experience possible.  You successfully gave me the exact opposite.  And everything you have seemingly worked torwards in your study and practice of midwifery...you marred that day.  You abandoned your duty and your commitment.

Even in the aftermath, you reminded me that what you promised was to be my servant, not my Savior.  And trust me, I never once expected to be saved.  But you did indeed fail miserably at serving.

Because of this I likely will never have the birth I had so hoped for.  I don't know that I could now find the courage to attempt a homebirth again.  Certainly I want more children, and I believe God will guide me and protect me in how they arrive, but thanks to your antics, I do now fear birth.  Certainly I still believe that women can have beautiful homebirths and no doubt I will always support it, but how can I bounce back from being one of the ones who didn't...not due to medical emergency, but instead because of selfish gain.

I have to say now that up to this point, the blame has been entirely directed towards you.  But in all honesty, I have to accept part of it, too.  I was negligent in choosing you to attend my birth.  Because I trusted you and your price was right.  Because you were a follower of Jesus.  Because you spoke soothingly and had glowing credentials, I allowed myself to be fooled.  I believed what I wanted to believe and ultimately I made a wrong decision.  And beyond that wrong decision, I went on to have the exact opposite birth (c-section) that I had originally planned because I gave up.  I have blamed giving up and requesting a surgical birth on you, but the truth is, that's not your fault.  I chose that.  You simply contributed to the exhaustion prior to my  making that decision.

I think it's important to note that I wish you no ill will.  I don't hate you.  And from this point on, I will commit to praying for you.  I can be thankful that God was with me when you were not.  I can praise Him that through all of it He protected me, my baby and my family.  And I can only turn to Him from now on as He has placed a desire on my heart to one day become a birth professional myself.  To educate.  To protect.  To advocate for.  To be a voice.  But most of all, to love and truly minister to women and their babies.  I can only be appreciative in accepting that you were part of that grand plan for my future, because God is going to turn my pain into something beautiful I'm sure of it.

And so the moment we've all been waiting for...I know I have...  After all the hurt of these last seven months I choose to move on.  I choose joy.  And I choose to forgive you. 

I do...I forgive you.

Kelli