Blogging is NO fun if no one gets to read it. Other than myself, whom I find awesome *sarcasm* and maybe my mom, it is nice to log on to my blog and see that 400 people were directed by a link on facebook.
However, what is not awesome is that 400 of those people (exaggerations may or may not be involved in the postings) came from a specific person in reference to a “story” ( that has since been taken out) because they thought I was being petty for remembering certain events, sights and smells.
So that said. Here is MY side of the story as I know it happened. And then MOVE ON!!!!!!! !
On my BIRTHDAY a post was written called Eventually. It talked about how I struggle with PTSD and how it makes me remember things in VIVID detail. I referenced several instances that stand out the most in a 93 day stay in the NICU. I have since deleted the one that caused the wave to go by. But before doing so, this was on someone’s page, in which she shares a last name and well, hasn’t been very nice.
Her post on her face book said: need some advice. When someone starts a story with "in 2004, you said something that hurt my feelings." Do you take them seriously?!?!?! Take a deep breath in a LET IT Go
The idea that she recognized that the person was her in my “story” showed me that she knew she had done something that may or may not have hurt my feelings. It wasn’t what she said that hurt my feelings it was the actions. And because of the situation I was in ( in the NICU standing next to a person who treated me HORRIBLE when they found out I was pregnant, and she was pregnant as well) complaining about her pregnancy, while my sick baby lay in a incubator. Where my nurse *thank you LISA!* Sat back and made an excuse for that sweet baby to not be held by that person for a long period of time.
Why do I remember those things. Because it was MY story. It was MY life. It was how I felt sitting in those rooms day in and day out making THOSE choices for my child. It was the war zone that I was put through that made me defensive. So I do remember what people were wearing, what smells were in the NICU. I don’t know what she was wearing and I am sure she smelled cleaned, but the NICU left a burning smell in my nose for 8 years. It has left me with wounds far deeper than anyone knows.
So while the responses to this “sweet” person was about how horrible of a person I was that I would remember etc, they don’t know the person behind the pain and the pain that the “sweet” person you are throwing comfort at has done behind the scenes to this family.
So I put my blog private so they had no access to what was going on in our lives and the hospital stay we were going into. It was none of their business. But then things have come up that I know I want to write about and I am done doing the nice thing and pretending that they are amazing people. So I am putting out there that this was not something that was nice to me.
PTSD is real for me. It was very apparent sitting next to the Narcan on Ty’s table that this is not something that every parent gets to hug at night in hopes to keep their child here one more day. So if you want to make fun of me for remembering that I said please and thank you to my nurse, that I ate oreo cookies and had grape juice in bed with Dallas and a nurse came in and talked to us, and I remember the names of the people who came to see us and I remember when you hurt my feelings, GOOD FOR ME. You can put wool over all those peoples eyes. But until then, stop being mean. You are the mean one for not understand that by deleting the paragraph the blog was still in perfectly finished history. It didn’t need your abuse in it. So someday, we might just forget that you were insensitive that day 8 years ago ( not in 2004 like you say be cause our kids were born in 2005) Or we might not, because you will keep on being insensitive and rude more. Either way, we will be judged so why not put it out there in black and white so that we can send more of your “friends” over for conversations regarding me and my family.
So I am sure you will all feel the need to come back and see if those people are now getting more of the story. Because there is more to the story.
Nice person was there for me during fertility treatments as was I for her. But one day we got pregnant. We were scheduling for a hysterectomy and I was pregnant. She flipped out and stop talking to me because how dare I get pregnant and them not.
Or how we are an eternal family but we weren’t invited to the sealing of their last child because she didn’t want us there.
Yep. I can see how she is a loving caring person to those around her.