Epilogue, A Tale of Two Blogs

I’m sorry.  Relief instantly flooded my body once I apologized to myself.  The amount of pressure I’d been holding on my shoulders was lifted.  Optimism rushed through my thoughts and adrenaline through my veins.

For better or for worse, I am one of those people that believe everything happens for a reason.  Revisiting my daughter’s birth was not an easy thing to do.  But, I can see now that I’ve made it through the story, it was necessary for me to remember what I went through and how I felt at that moment.  Without that realization, all the events, thoughts, emotions and actions that followed the traumatic experience wouldn’t have near as much power.

By power, I mean, power to understand what happened and why I was currently confused and distressed.  When the idea to write this story approached me, I initially thought it would be one post.  Just a little background piece about me and who I am.  But, when I started thinking about it, I couldn’t do the story justice in only a few words.  As I retraced the events to find the beginning, I mentally traveled backwards over the last decade my life.  When I finally reached the beginning of the story, I was shocked.

Shocked by the fact I hadn’t given any time for introspection in many years.  Especially since it’s a necessary component to a life well-lived.  It’s easy to identify the what of a situation.  Determining how I feel about a particular scenario comes naturally to me.  But, digging deeper and asking the WHY? was never explored.

These few weeks of getting real with myself offer such encouragement for my future.  I can finally say, “there are brighter days ahead,” and mean it with my whole being.  It’s no longer a saying of trickery to mask the pain the of the past.  Telling the story of my high-risk pregnancy healed and sealed a hole in my heart.  Most people I’ve met over the years don’t even realize I ever lived in Ghana, because it’s not a tour or a time I tend to talk about much.  I talk about Germany, Uzbekistan, Albania and my husband’s unaccompanied tour.  But, thinking about Ghana inevitably brought memories I didn’t want to have to mind.  It was easier to avoid than to confront and move through them.

Today, I feel like a champion and master of my memories.  While this story started with tough love, it ended with a tender apology.  That’s life.  MY LIFE!

Until tomorrow –

Simply live,

Carla

 

New to the story?  Start reading here.

 

photo credit – pixabay.com

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