It's not an atomic bomb, and I'm not U2. But I think I know one way to take apart a bomb without allowing it to explode and wreak havoc on the world. Wanna know that one way? It's simple. It's two little words.
And maybe four more words.
I was an idiot.
There. Doesn't that feel better? Didn't you just hear that bomb stop ticking? Did your shoulders just descend from being stuck in your ears with stress?
I thought so.
If more people would use these helpful words, this world would be a better place. Even if the midwife let me push for four hours with not enough progression. Even if the doctors wouldn't allow me to decide for myself what I wanted because I'd been laboring too long, and they left it to my husband to make a decision with limited and inaccurate information. Even if the doctor broke her promise to properly prepare my body for forceps. I could cease being pissed if they'd just say they were sorry. If they'd stop justifying, blaming others (including me), and making excuses. If they'd just admit to being an idiot for one second.
But instead I'm left to diffuse my anger alone. It's a long and ugly story that didn't have to happen. If only someone would admit to being an idiot.
Oh God, this must end sometime. Until then, You've got to keep me going. I am too weak to keep this up on my own. And I think I exploded tonight. So I need a little help with clean up in aisle five. Okay. A lot of help.
Gotta run. My son is teething. It's gonna be a long night on so many levels.