Tapping away the pain

After my melt down at the hospital the other week, it was strongly suggested by many people that I get urgent help. There is only so much a social worker can do. 

So with the (incredibly strong) nudge of my husband, he got me booked into a therapist who just happened to have a spot open up the next day. After I finished panicking, as I hate talking to people, especially when I know I’m going to blubber my way through the birth histories, I put my big girl pants on and went to see her. 

Talk therapy is not for me. This I knew. One reason why I’ve never done anything. But this lady is different. She does tapping therapy. I only knew about it from my husband who does it too with his clients. And of course I’ve scoffed at the idea. How does tapping your body do anything?

I had my second session today, and honestly, I’m still not sure what to think about it. I felt completely stupid while doing it, crying over these thoughts, wanting to not cry when I think about them. Aparently I’ve got plenty to deal with, with my stress level incredibly high based on the worst parts of the first birth experience.

But, talking to a dad at school pick up today, he mentioned my boys looked so similar. I told him my experience of having Marshal taken away from me in hospital at only a few days old, when I got moved to high dependency ward, not knowing what the squishy pink boy looked like, having his ankle bands fall off and me worrying that he would get swapped with another baby. My husband wasn’t there at the time and of course at that moment, I panicked. The midwife holding him to take him to the children’s ward, me not saying goodbye until I freaked out and reached for him. I got 20 seconds to say goodbye before I was wheeled away and hooked up to monitors. 

When I tell this part of my story (well all of it actually…), I tense up, I get sweaty and hot. Teary. But today, nothing. I was able to tell the story and still smile. After tapping my way through this traumatic memory this morning, I was able to disconnect the emotion from the story, and have it just that. A story. The horribleness of it is still there, just not the tears that come with it. 

For 3 years it actually kind of bothered me that maybe he was swapped and I didn’t know. But then Maverick came along and now they are so similar the thought hasn’t crossed my mind since. It’s funny how your mind plays tricks on you. 

I’ve got so much to work on, more than I thought, but if I can now talk about that crappy experience, up until being moved wards that first time, without tears, then something must be working. I need something that works now, not in 12 months. I just want to get to a place where I don’t completely freak out when they produce the needle. I’m sure if I started this ages ago, I’d be in a better headspace now. Always leaving things to the last minute. 

I’m sure after this birth, I’ll need help dealing with it too. I might need to take out a loan to pay for it all….but if it helps my parenting, and stops me feeling like such a failure as a women, then it’s all worth it. 


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