Before I opened my eyes this morning, I said a prayer. I asked God to give me the words I needed. I knew that I was broken. I knew I wasn’t enough. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. Today wasn’t just any day. Today was the day that I would tell MY story.
In my quest to help grievers, I have stumbled. As much as I want to help, I cannot sacrifice my mental health. I have been pulled in two directions when sharing my trauma story. I had not yet been able to speak the words to those who didn’t know. When I tried, I found myself having flashbacks. I couldn’t drag myself back to that place. But I also knew it was time. I just needed the right way. I asked and God delivered.
Two weeks ago, I was offered the opportunity to share my story on an Instagram live with Twenty-Two matters. I was anxious to say the least. I practiced my story. I had to say the words over and over again out loud to make sure that I wouldn’t lose it while recounting the events. I pulled out the medical records and studied them to make sure I gave accurate accounts of what happened that day.
When the time came, the anxiety faded. I don’t even know what I said. I just spoke. The words flowed out like I was talking to a friend. I didn’t have a flashback. I didn’t cry. I did exactly what God sent me to do. My prayer is that someone is touched. If I can help just one person, I did my job.
I feel like this was a huge step in my healing. If I can talk about it openly, I can do this. I can really do this thing that God has tasked me with. I didn’t live this trauma just to cry in my closet in the middle of the night. There is a purpose. I will not let Drew’s story end with him going into the ground. His life meant more than that.
Tonight, I should be browsing Amazon while nursing my two-month-old baby. Instead, I am sharing the story of how my local hospital failed us. I am sharing the story of laying alone with Jim in a triage room begging for help while my premature son is coming out of my body. I am sharing the story of a doctor who placed no value on my child’s life. I’m telling the tale of the most traumatic moment of my life.
This is not the end, but a beginning. Where God will lead me in this journey I do not know. What I do know, is that I cannot be silent.
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