Perhaps it has taken me a little too long to realise. Perhaps the years of looking down at my body and seeing only it’s ‘failings’ were to blame. Perhaps I have known it all along. I am not broken.

Things have not always gone as I had hoped, planned, or expected. But that is life. And I am learning.

Eleven years ago a baby was plucked from my body, pink and screaming; full of life. And my body was sore, tired and defeated. Such a sterile room to be born into. So cold. So white. So different to the dream. And though the water birth drifted from my grasp so quickly, though my body ached and my heart hung heavy in my chest, though all was somehow wrong… it did not break me.

i am not broken_ghostwritermummy.co.uk

I am not broken.

Almost six years ago, a baby was dragged from my body, blue and silent. Life was breathed into him by a stranger with one goal in mind. To make him live. To let him go home. To make it right. Such a frightening, lonely world to be born into. Mother, asleep on a table. Father, alone outside on a cold plastic chair. So cold. So lonely. So wrong. And this, this birth was the one that changed it all. Changed me. Made me into someone that some cannot understand. Made me into something to avoid. Made me into something to pity.

You don’t need to pity me. You need to learn from me.

I am not broken.

And while some will sit and say that what happened to me is in the past and needs to be left there, others will reach out and tell me that they understand. They are the ones who ‘get it’. But I want you to get it too.

We are all shaped by our experiences; how can we not be? But that doesn’t mean that we are weak. That doesn’t mean we need your pity. That doesn’t mean you can turn away.i am not broken_ghostwritermummy.co.uk

Almost six years ago, my body was bruised from neck to knees. Angry, deep red bruises that snaked their way down my body, leaving a telling trail of trauma. Almost six years ago, my body was breaking, and my spirit was fading. I had a son I could not look at and a crushing weight on my chest every single minute of the day. I went through the motions of life with a newborn and I faced each day with dread and despair. The smallest things brought tears screaming to my eyes, streaking down my face, drowning my dreams. Almost six years ago, my body was the source of much self loathing.

But I was not broken.

I will not be broken. I will use my experiences to shape changes that are needed. I will use my experiences to reach out to others and tell them that I understand. I will use my experiences to mend.

I am not broken.

i am not broken_ghostwritermummy.co.uk