Something must have changed in me lately, as I feel much more able to think and write about Sausage’s birth and I’m hoping that’s a positive step. But I must admit, there is something which scares me about the whole process and that’s remembering things which have been firmly buried inside my head. I think that’s a huge part of my reluctance to go to a counsellor, I know there is so much I don’t remember which means that if it were to be unlocked, I might be traumatised all over again.

Something I only touched on minimally when I wrote my birth story was the fact that there is a huge chunk of my labour that I don’t remember. I have small flashes of moments during that time, but so much is still missing. Around three hours, in total. Once my waters broke, I think at around 6pm as my dinner had just been put in front of me, I remember my contractions starting and being very painful. I remember a flash of me pressing myself against a wall as I got it into my head that this would relieve the pain. The next thing I remember is huffing the gas and air and wondering why it wasn’t working. Now I’m having an epidural and laying on my side. Next, I’m laying on my back and they’re doing an examination of the tops of Sausage’s head. Then, I’m in theatre with someone spraying something cold on my stomach and I’m screaming for a general anaesthetic. Then, I’m coming round to the sound of thunder, totally unaware of what’s going on or where my baby is. And I’m not even sure how accurate the parts I do remember are, as Husband has told things a bit differently, and he was a lot more aware of what was going on at the time.

Sausage was born at 9.17pm, so out of a three-hour labour, I remember snapshots which amount to about ten minutes. And the rest of it is all locked inside my head, in a little compartment. And I must admit, I’m terrified that one day the locks on those compartments will simultaneously fail and a whole world of shit will fall out onto me. It’s a very difficult feeling, on the one hand I am genuinely scared of what I might remember one day, on the other I really resent my brain for keeping it all from me, like there are secrets being kept. But I wouldn’t even know where to start with trying to remember, don’t know if I would even want to and even if I did, I couldn’t guarantee that it would all trickle out at a nice slow pace, giving me time to process it all. As I said, world of shit falling on me.

It’s a terrible analogy, but I really do get that part in Inception with the safe that they’re trying to crack, inside the blokes head.

So where do I go from here? I’m at something of a stalemate. People have suggested that I ask to go over my labour notes, but I just don’t know how much good that would do me. I suspect it could be more damaging than healing, and not to sound like a dick, but due to a lifetime of health anxiety I have a slightly more in-depth view of what certain medical terms mean than a lot of layman, so while they might think they’re baffling me with terminology, I could be horrifying aware of things I didn’t know before. I don’t know, I think I’m trying to talk myself out of it. Not to mention the fact that if they allowed Dr. Shithead into the room, the eminent consultant who almost ruined my life, I couldn’t trust myself to not beat her to a bloody pulp with the nearest bottle of oxygen or fire extinguisher. Anger, much?

I’m stuck, basically. Not wanting to remember, but hating my brain for not letting me remember.

And not having a clue where that leaves me…