To My Daughter, My Trauma Baby

I believe that story telling is therapeutic. As a Postpartum Doula, I will encourage the processing of your birth story and alternate creative outlets. Story telling can come in many forms, drawing, painting, music. I choose to write. This particular version of my birth story was created so that I would have something to eventually share with my daughter. She deserved a story that more accurately described our experience and I wanted to create something beautiful out of something painful.

I wrote this a year ago as I approached the first anniversary of my traumatic birth. I originally shared it on my personal pages on the anniversary date and now as the second anniversary approaches, I choose to share it with you as well.  

To my daughter, my trauma baby:

There will never be a story on a shelf that describes the night you came earth side. The world tends to sweep stories like ours under the rug. You will hear stories of joy, excitement, peace when others speak of birth. Here’s to you, my sweet girl, our story. A story of fierce love and unimageable ache. The best and worst night of my life.

Love always, Mama

On the night you were born,
The doctors worked with such haste.
The nurses watched with concern,
As Mama braced,
“Life will never be the same”

They tossed Daddy some scrubs,
and Mama a form.
Uncertainty filled the room,
Mama’s mind was being torn.

They ran through the halls,
To the operating floor.
Mama’s heart ached,
She couldn’t take any more

Everyone heard,
And everyone knew,
This was the moment,
They had to deliver you.

A man paced too impatient to wait,
 “Sorry sir, another mother we have to take”
They sat Daddy down.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. We’ll come get you when it’s time.”

A doctor placed the leads,
And then the cuff.
Mama wanted out,
She had had enough.

The voices over Mama’s head
debating awake or asleep.
Mama wanted to beg and plead,
But instead continued to weep.

The scalpel broke the skin,
The pain more than Mama could bare
Then the words
“We can’t get baby out of there”

Daddy held Mama’s hand
As the doctors pounded and pulled
Pushing more meds, making the world whirl.
And out came you, my little girl.

Baby Girl, so perfectly pink
Only your breathing wasn’t what you would think.
It was a little low, and they were a little scared
You laid on Mama’s chest but couldn’t stay there.

They whisked you away,
And left Mama alone.
We were apart with so many unknowns.

Mama laid in the dark, waiting to feel.
You laid in Daddy’s arms, cozy and warm.
Mama’s heart stayed with you my dear,
More love than could ever seem real.

Mama’s tears fell with each tick of the clock,
waiting to be with you again,
to hold you and rock.

Guilt overwhelmed, fear that stuck
She couldn’t be the mama you needed
She wasn’t good enough.

Finally, the time came,
And Mama could be moved.
Scared to see you,
Scared if the thoughts were true.

The polar bears didn’t dance,
The geese didn’t honk on high,
There were no lady bugs,
And the wind blew right by.

But whenever you doubt just how special you are
 And wonder who loves you
Just look at this scar.

The light pink line that cuts Mama in half,
Let it be a reminder of that night
And just how hard she had to fight.

No polar bears or geese to praise your arrival.
And the wind never knew your name.
But Sweet Girl, something more wonderful came.

A quiet room, the calming of a storm.
A peaceful heart when Mama held you
On the terrifying, miraculous night you were born.