Part 4: The Day...

We have scars.

For one, my husband wouldn't carry either of our daughters down the stairs for some time. He will only do it now (over a year later) when wearing shoes.

He seems fairly well-adjusted aside from that one quirk...which can more or less be considered a "rational" precaution.

I have not been so "lucky."

I did not process in the moment what was happening during that time. I was not frantic. I was calm and collected. For many who know me - this is not my "norm." I'm a feeler. I didn't feel anything for a while.

So, scars and feelings would pop up in the oddest places.

I would be in bed, reading a book about nothing at all in particular and I would burst into uncontrollable sobbing.

My husband would rush to my side and ask what was wrong, the only words I could get out..."She could have died."

I would hear noises...and they didn't have to be loud: someone moving a chair upstairs, our oldest jumping, NORMAL things. My response would be an elevated heart rate as I sprinted towards the source...only to crumble into a sobbing pile when I saw that all was well.

I had never been a worried or overprotective mother.

Even after 2 miscarriages, I never felt like the world was out to "get" my family or my children in particular. But after that day, I have  found myself living with this ever present sense of doom. Even in my thankfulness, I felt doomed.

Before that day, I knew my babies would be just fine. Falls happen. Bumps happen. Cuts, scrapes, and burns happen. It's all part of it. 

My being irrational about noises or bumps or falls...was new to me. It was new to my husband. We had always had a wait and see approach when it came to our babies - not wanting them to be anxious or worried. We shrugged off a lot...BEFORE.

My husband was still able to shrug a lot off. I just couldn't shake it even if I could logically process that no one was in danger.

Even in those irrational moments, I knew my children were God's. I knew He was our protector. Just look how He has saved our girl.

This was not a question of faith.

This was...this is post traumatic stress disorder.