I want to begin by saying that I believe birth is designed to be magical, primal, ecstatic and raw and I feel sad that it is feared by so many in our world and often over medicalised out of a lack of trust of the body's innate ability to do what it is born to do. But I also acknowledge that in many cases it shows up in a much more traumatic initiation. I have also come to realise that I have carried some judgement around the choices people make about their births, tending to believe that natural is better. Although now on the other side of my own experience (as I gaze at the baby carefully balanced on my breast as I type) I have to say I am in deep reverence of all births... and however it shows up it is freaking massive!
As I share my birth story with you I will warn you that it is not the fairy tale home water birth with sound healing, candles and multi orgasms... this is real, this is detailed and this is exactly what I experienced.. and it was far from what I had envisaged or hoped for.
Some say that we call in the birth initiation that we need to experience and I whole heartedly agree but I have to say this was way bigger than I could have ever imagined. But as I gaze my magical baby Sammy-Owl I realise that none of this even matters. Yes - we will be processing our journey for some time, healing emotionally, physically and energetically but it is as if all of the pain is wiped away now he is here... and I am Mother.
Here is my birth story...
The last week of my pregnancy was possibly the toughest of my life. The waiting for baby was starting to wear me down, mainly because we were suddenly in the land of being “over due” by medical standards. On the Monday I was 41+3 and feel as if the ride really began when we headed to the hospital to have a check up with an OB mainly for due diligence as we were still planning our desired home birth. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with our appointment. Baby and I were doing well and the lovely doctor didn’t specifically apply any pressure for induction, although naturally it was discussed, along with the fact that he would prefer us to birth in hospital rather than at home if I continued to gestate for longer. In my vulnerability, it was the internal exam that I agreed to that upset me - again, no one pressured me or did anything wrong but I felt a little violated and the words “you are only about 1cm dilated” rang in my ears. Now, I know dilation can happen quickly when the body kicks into gear but I guess I had been hoping for other news. If only I knew this was the first of so many "internal checks" that would happen this week (woah).
Every time I went to the toilet I prayed for a mucus plug or bloody show or at least something to indicate that we were getting close and that I was entering into the terrain of labour. Personally I was happy in my body with the extra incubation but knowing that we were reaching a “deadline” (bad word I know) was hard to bear. Particularly as, in hindsight, I knew something wasn’t right. I had known for a while.
Let me back track…
At 37 weeks I had felt myself physically getting ready and this prompted much inner work to prepare me for an early arrival. We kicked ourselves into gear and organised the home birth space, spurred on by many signs in my body like a fully engaged baby from 35 weeks, pre-labour signs, heavy nesting and going within and really "the knowing" that he was close. But then a few things happened that took me out of my flow. When I write about them it is not in a sense of blame just in acknowledgement... and I also must note that I could be completely wrong an that maybe everything was always going to play out as it did... as the hard and strong medicine that it was.
Our private midwife (PM) had a major health scare and we had to change hands which didn’t really bother me so much but it did make me feel a little off kilter especially so close to birth… and my Mum arrived to stay with us. This I had been apprehensive about, not because I do to love my Mama dearly but I was worried about how sharing our space would feel. And the combination of these things felt as if they halted my progress and suddenly it was as if I stopped in my tracks. This was at 38 weeks and I have found myself wondering if I had just stayed in my zone perhaps baby would have come sooner, possibly alleviating some of the problems that loomed up ahead.
But back to that final week…
I was visioning hard and doing everything in my power to LET GO in my body, hoping desperately that the baby would come of his own accord. But nothing. I felt some self blame and judgment around holding up the process and I felt real struggle and pain. This was one of the hardest parts of my pregnancy. Waiting and praying and willing my body to start naturally as I desperately didn’t want to get involved in an induction processes, mainly because I know how stubborn my body can be and it doesn’t like to be rushed (not many forceps babies like me do).
I had been doing all the acupuncture, eating chilli, making love, bouncing on my fit ball, dancing, using clary sage, having acupressure massage but nothing seemed to be working… so when I went to see my dear PM (the same one of the health scare who had managed to have her operation and recovery whilst we still waited for baby) and she offered me a stretch and sweep I happily obliged. We discussed the possibility of plans changing and going to hospital and what the various induction methods would look like and I felt so grateful to have such incredible support. I felt at peace with whatever was going to happen and in my heart I think I was already preparing myself for the huge initiation that was to come.
The sweep was like Xmas! There was a bloody show and suddenly I though - FAAARK YES! We are going to have a baby! After our appointment we went walking on an incredible beach and knew the time was nigh. I felt excited and a little nervous... wondering what my labour would be like. Was my labour going to be 12 hours or marathon? What would it feel like? How much pain could I actually handle? Would we birth at home? So many questions danced through my mind as I felt my body start to get active with pre-labour.
When contractions started in earnest at 8pm on Wednesday September 28 (my beloved and my 4 year anniversary) I was so excited. I kept moving to make sure this was not a false alarm as I was ready to ride the wave all the way home. The first 12 hours of labouring at home were exciting. I made a nest in a big blue chair where I would burrow and sound my way through the sensations. Riding the waves, although painful, I knew I had the power to do it and I felt courageous.
But when the sun came up and I didn't feel that close to birthing I lost a bit of heart (as I remember thinking that this baby would come at sunset or sunrise). Our PM came to visit and checked me internally - I had (only) made it to 2cm which felt like not much at all after all my efforts so she gave me another quick sweep and sent me to bed. Bed was impossible as this sweep bought on strong waves that I had to ride all day. Back to my chair nest I went to attempt to ride out the storm... but it was so freaking hard.
My beloved husband stayed with me through it all and I couldn’t even face my doula or Mama coming to visit. All I wanted was solitude to navigate the surges in my own way and call on the powers of the elementals, the Goddesses and really anyone I could think of.
I just wanted to disappear… I seem to remember even wanting to die. I doubted my ability to make it through. I doubted my body (mainly because I was getting exhausted) and started having thoughts of going to hospital as it just didn’t seem possible that I could keep going at home... and intuitively knew that something might be wrong.
I just discovered some text messages I sent to my doula between waves which were so sad (I have zero memory of sending them BTW).. "this is so hard... I just want it to end" "so much harder than I imagined" "I am just trying to stay alive now but I feel like going to hospital but I realise they can't do much more for me" "I am just praying my cervix is doing its thing"
If you could have assured me I only had 6 hours to go I could have committed but I just didn't feel as if I was getting anywhere. At some stage I spoke to my PM on the phone of my fears and she tried to give me strength, but deep down I think I already new something was wrong. In fact I feel as if I had known this for some weeks and this is what made this last stage of pregnancy so hard. Trying to get ready for something I intuitively knew was going to be massive and not what I had dreamt. The home birth I had been visioning just didn’t seem to be coming but I knew the baby had to arrive somehow.
I know many people say - vision the birth you want to have - and perhaps this is where I went wrong. I could never visualise my birth. Yes we blew up the birth pool and created the space etc but I don’t think I could ever really feel it in my body. All I kept thinking was I will get the initiation I need… and holy shit did I ever get the works!
My doula showed up at around 7pm Thursday when I was ready to call it quits. She was followed closely behind by my PM who did some checks and found than baby’s heart rate was being a little slack. This and my own waning energy was the cue to transfer. I was so freaking ready. In the half lit apartment we packed a few bags of goodness-knows-what to take to hospital as we were not really prepared. I threw on my tie died purple skirt and pink and grey striped jumper, grabbed my favourite crystals and my teddy bear "Podge" who I allegedly held in my hand all the way to the delivery suite.
The car ride was intense. My contractions were close together at this stage and driving was a lot. I sounded and breathed my way through and felt some sense of relief for the change of scenery. My whole yearning to birth at home was to not have the disruption of the transfer but the irony is that in the moment I felt like I needed to relocate to shift into another gear and find more energy.
On arrival I was checked throughly by our new hospital midwife Jo (HM). I was rigged up to monitors which told us baby and I were in fact doing well. Blood pressure and heart rates were good but as I had been labouring for a long time and my waters had been leaking for 24 hours or so I needed constant monitoring. I had another internal from the HM and I found I was about 2cm dilated and I accepted the offer to break my remaining waters to get things moving faster. Anything, I thought, to bring this baby earth side… ANYTHING!
Then we entered what I call my favourite part of the birth. I had my beloved husband behind me holding space, my PM and doula in front of me giving me acupressure and anointing me with oils. Whispering words of strength as I rode the waves like a pro and sounded my heart out. Things were wild and primal and soon I was naked - entering another 6 hour labour portal.
I was in so many different positions. I found the power of the Collective Sisterhood and I felt like a warrioress who could literally do anything! I was on and off the planet simultaneously and it all felt like it had purpose as the baby was coming. My strength reappeared and I became Durga, Kali, Inanna, Black Moon Lilith and all of the goddesses combined. It was raw, potent and joyous even as the pain ripped through my body. I could take it as I was STRONG. I was between worlds and I could feel Sammy-Owl coming...
But then he was not quite there... and I was losing steam... my yoni and cervix were swelling from the hard work and my strength faltering. It was like an great anti climax. We had all thought we were almost there so much so that I was reaching between my legs to feel for his head but alas there seemed to be something getting in the way. For those last weeks of pregnancy I had worried it was my inability to let go - but no - I was in full surrender in this moment, blossoming and opening as gracefully as I could...
but it just wasn't happening... and this is when the story started to twist and turn...
The HM wanted to check me again and somehow I was only 4cm and the head I felt coming was actually still 1cm above my cervix.
In this moment I surrendered.
The HM suggested I take time out of my labour by having an epidural and some sleep and we start Syntocinon (an induction drug) in the morning to get things moving in the hope I would fully dilate and baby would descend. I agreed in an instant as I felt I could not take any more. My body was starting to go into distress but thankfully all of baby's vitals were still super happy and chilled (and he is the most chilled baby to this day).
Within minutes I had a drip in my arm and epidural in my spine - I remember the anaesthetist asking if I was a yoga teacher due to my toned back (seriously) - obviously I was flattered! Meanwhile my beloved husband had to hit the deck as he almost fainted due to the stress of seeing his wife in such a situation. Then the HM told me I needed a catheter and I flat out refused "NO WAY, I never agreed to that!" Only to be asked how I planned to pee if I didn’t have one. So once again I surrendered.
For those of you who do not know me I rarely even take panadol or have any medical stuff done so being hooked up to drips and drugs was a big thing for me, but I knew in this moment there was no other way. And finally I rested and interestingly my natural contractions stopped too. It seemed my body knew it needed a break. It was 4.30am on Friday Sept 30.
At 6am the Syntocinon started and I slept through. My body started going into active labour again but I couldn’t feel it. As I was a bit groggy on drugs this whole day is a blur of midwives, blood pressure checks, doctors and decisions (so apologies if this writing lacks emotion as I barely remember it). My beloved rested on a mattress on the floor, my dear PM (#2 as #1 went home for a deserved rest) watched on to ensure I was not pressured in any way and we discussed plans. If the Synto worked and my body responded I would have a vaginal birth later that day or - if not - we would have to look at other options.
I seem to remember worrying a bit about having a vaginal birth again. I mean, I had already been there and thought it was going to happen hours before... before all the drugs came on the scene and I was wondering if I had the power to go back there. I also feared pushing with little sensation below the waist as I knew the baby was a big one and remember asking my PM lots of questions about how much I was likely to tear.
All day different doctors came to check on me. My new HM (there had been a shift change) gave me my first internal at 10am and I think I was 6cm dilated (woohoo) but baby’s head was still up. The next was scheduled for 2pm to see if I had progressed. I literally had to fight for this time but my PM assured me that it could have been much worse if there has been different doctors on shift. I scored some good ones and I knew I was in excellent hands even if we were having to get heavily medical.
I slept on.. and vomited from time to time as I could ever so slightly feel my body in full labour with contractions less than 1 min apart through the epidural. It was surreal to know my body and baby were working so hard while I slept. At some point I believe ate some vegemite on toast but then vomited it up again soon after.
I should also note that over this day my body blew up to 4 times its usual size. I had zero swelling/fluid retention in pregnancy but the 4L of fluid they pumped me with for dehydration and the epidural was sucked into my tissues by the Synto and I became like an overstuffed sausage. I genuinely had no idea this had happened and only really understood when I looked in the mirror the following day. It was a huge shock for my beloved but I guess it is something pretty veery day in the hospital. I have only just plucked up the courage to look at the photos from the day (at 17 days pp) and I was so spun out by what I saw. I have included a few in the gallery below so you can see too. I should also note I still have some of this swelling now in my over sized right hip/love handle (weird) which was huge in the week after and made me look like the Elephant Woman.
The doctors changed their mind and tried to bring my next internal forward to midday but we resisted, insisting that my body needed more time. Thankfully they listened and didn't make us fight too hard. I'm sure in their minds they just wanted to get this baby born pronto but I was one of "those patients" who was being stubborn (or more well informed!)
At my 2pm internal magically my cervix was fully dilated but there was still an issue with the baby’s head as it appeared to be in a bad position to come through my pelvis. We discovered the root of the issue - his head was turned side on and chin raised high and due to the size of his scull (38cm we discovered at birth) this meant it would not fit unless it rapidly shifted.
And so began the most dramatic part of the day…
The doctors came and checked in with me again as it was time to make plans. I agreed to let a specialist do an internal adjustment of the baby’s head which involved her putting her hands right up inside my cervix and trying to rotate baby’s head. I felt like a cow with a farmer's hand inside it but I was beyond caring as, by this point, I had been poked and prodded so many times. I even said “I was about to say something inappropriate but stopped myself”… and what I was going to say was - "I guess this is what it is like to get fisted!" Thank fully all of these feelings were more conceptual as the epidural had dulled my sensation… but I was certainly violated many times that day… or really that week! And for a girl who is passionate about asking permission to enter or even touch one's yoni I didn't feel very honoured (lol).
So much for my intervention free birth. I feel as if I had almost all interventions under the sun! As per usual I had called in a "rich" experience ... as I like to experience all things - right??
Despite all attempts to move baby’s head we were seemably fighting a losing battle as, although the head could be manipulated but the baby would immediately move it back to where it had probably been lodged for the last 6 weeks (stubborn like his mother). By this point baby’s heart rate had also started to rise (understandable after the head position battle) and everyone was getting concerned. There was also a possibility that my body had an infection as my heart was racing and I was pumped with antibiotics - it is amazing the cocktail that can be added to your drip with such ease!
The Drs recommended a c-section and, after some reassurance from my PM, I agreed as I really feel as if we had done everything that we could do.
I felt pragmatic and diplomatic in this moment. I was read all the risks of c-section (including hysterectomy) and signed my life away. I was so far out of body and surrendered to the experience and I was just doing what I needed to do. This whole day made me feel like a Viking Warrior Goddess (yes I had been watching Vikings on Netflix in pregnancy). When challenges came my way I stared them down and made fast decisions. Emotions were set aside. This was about preserving life - both mine and my baby’s.
Like a captain of a fleet of ships I sailed straight into the eye of the storm… again and again and again… and I was willing to take a slice to the belly in the name of life.
Within 15 minutes of this decision I was being briefed by an anaesthetist and was in theatre. I asked that they put my pillow from home to the side in case it got blood on it. I was still thinking about my things as usual. I fought for my PM to come into theatre with me and won (this was one of many small victories as being in hospital requires constant battles).
Before I signed my surgery consent form I rapidly verbalised my birth wishes - to delay cord clamping, to have skin to skin, and to keep my placenta… and I’m sure I said not to be separated from my baby - I didn’t even think they would consider that so I may not have mentioned it! The Drs reluctantly agreed but told me this would only be possible should the baby be born in good health. I was not in a position to argue.
Then we were on. I was on a table in a freezing, brightly lit room surrounded by Drs who did not feel very empathetic preparing for a major surgery I had never in my life considered having. I remember thinking - this vessel is not permanent. I am not my body. I will heal.
The anaesthetic made me shake like a leaf and I felt totally out of control. It all happened so fast all I could do was be brave... and I seem to remember crying tears for my body and wondering what it would be like to do a handstand after a c-section (#yogithoughts).
After such an ordeal I have to say the baby had slipped a little from my mind. I knew that this was what we were here for but I was so over it and sad for my body I was beyond caring. I had disconnected from the whole experience as it was simply too painful and overwhelming for me to handle. This body sadness had been welling in me all week as somehow I always knew baby would be OK but it was my beloved vessel of self expression I was grieving for. After a life time for working with my body as a dancer and yogi having to let it go was tough. Pregnancy was a big journey in itself but to be cut open - WOW - I had never seen this coming.
At 4.01pm (Friday September 30 - the Libra New Moon) my beautiful baby boy was wrestled out from my body by 3 pairs of hands as he was so massive - 9lbs8 // 4.47kg and 57cm long. He promptly peed on them in his first act of brilliance on this planet. One would say he had already made his mark. The Dr leading the surgery said when she reached into my pelvis his head just kept going.. and when I see the tender scar on my belly I am confused as to how they got such a giant baby out of a tiny incision. Sadly I didn't see any of this as I was behind a screen and we were not permitted to take photos so I will have to create this image in my mind.
Even though I felt disconnected this was joyous... I prayed that they delayed his cord clamping and I am told he did get 60seconds which is better than nothing but sadly I did not get the skin to skin I was crying out for with every cell of my being. He was having problems breathing and his movements were slack so suddenly my beautiful baby was whisked away by a team of pedaeatric nurses.
My husband was by their sides in an instant and I was craning my neck to watch the scene with my sweet new born babe having his lungs pumped to encourage breath. His little hand reached up and grabbed my beloved's finger and held on with all his might and all I could think was "FUCKING BRING HIM TO ME!"
Finally I got my skin to skin but it was momentary and awkward as I had a screen just below my breasts and was shaking so hard from the drugs. His slack body rested on mine and I told him that I loved him... and then he was rushed to the Nursery for more testing. As Joe (my husband) was leaving I looked him straight in the eye and said "please look after our baby"...
and then they were gone... and it was just me lying on the bed getting stitched up for the next hour with a running commentary on which layer they were up to (they go through 7 layers from memory) thinking about everything. I had lost almost 2L of blood and my uterus was not in such a good state after working hard for 48 hours so they were concerned about my health. I remember arguing with them about my placenta while they stitched as apparently they wanted to send it off for testing as they thought it had an infection. Naturally I was resisting HARD!
Once I was done I was taken to Recovery, all the while demanding to see my baby. I remember thinking as I took another exhale of surrender how ridiculous this situation was and how far we had come from what I imagined my birth to be like. Once in Recovery I saw all the other mothers looking wiped out and no one had babies... this was so confusing to me! But meanwhile I was charming and entertaining (another usual stress response of mine - plus I was high on morphine). I had sent one of my PMs (#2) to the nursery to get a baby update and she came to me bearing news.
The scene in the Nursery was very "medical" and my beloved was fighting hard. First they wanted to give our baby an antibiotic drip, then formula as his blood glucose was low and they were pricking and testing him madly. I am so pleased Joe was intercepted by a lovely Maori man with a tiny premmie baby who said "brother - take off your shirt and do skin to skin". So this is exactly what Joe did, holding our baby to his breast and keeping the Drs at bay whilst PM #1 stepped into the ring to fight for our rights.
When I heard about the skin to skin and I instantly felt more at ease. At least our baby was getting what he needed even if I was not there to provide it (but far out - this was so hard for me, particularly as I was feeling pretty disconnected from my baby anyway). PM #2 also produced some syringes and told me to get cracking on expressing colostrum to intercept the formula that was about to go down in the Nursery. We were a hilarious pair - her on one boob, me on the other, milking hard. At least it gave me something to do!
The colostrum was raced to the nursery and administered to baby and he improved dramatically and meanhwhile I begged for a reunion, only to be told my next stop was Room 28 of the maternity ward and I was not going to see my baby until the Drs decided to release him from Nursery.
What the actual fuck I thought... this is so retarded! I began bargaining with nurses and doing everything in my power to cut a deal. I think I was even offering $1000 at one stage. Just when I was kind of getting there with one nurse on a compromise (I got to hand deliver more colostrum on my way to the ward but not stay as I understood hospital policy etc), I overheard a heated conversation on the phone about me. My PMs (my angels) were also getting feisty trying to get me back to my baby.
Suddenly the HM who had been attending to me all day was on the scene and (although she was not so happy about it in the moment) she demanded my release from Recovery. It seems these things are not done in the hospital as the nurses were yelling things about rules and protocol. I was so happy to see her and even more excited when she said - screw waiting for the porter to move my bed - and we went rouge! It was like a movie (certainly the way I remember it anyway).
She wheeled a bare breasted me through the hospital and into the Nursery and finally I had my baby (thank fully still on Joe's bare chest) in my sights and within minutes he was latched to my breast suckling away as tears rolled down my cheeks.
And there was no way I was letting go! Not for a second! Especially not after being apart for 2 whole hours. I still shudder when I think of this...
The rest of this hospital time is a blur. Thank fully I only stayed in for two nights (supervised by "The Matron" and many other lovely midwives) and I was up and moving the morning after my surgery. I could write another essay about my hospital stay and the constant push for me to take heavy pain meds (WTF) which I declined as - after what I had been through - the pain of a c-section was nothing a few panadol couldn't fix. Plus I wanted to be as conscious with my beautiful babe as I could be.
Come Sunday night I was home and felt as if I was returning to the scene of a crime. The feeling of coming back to where I had laboured so hard was daunting (even though Mum had cleaned up what looked a bit like an afterparty) and it made me wonder how I would feel convalescing in my bedroom if I had given birth here as planned.
and there it is... and we flash forward in time...
I am now 8 days postpartum and still feeling the bigness of what has gone down. This last week had been so hard. I have cried tears almost constantly - tears of processing my birth and tears of hormones of milk coming in and mamahood. I have felt so far away from the girl I was and even looking at photos of myself pre-birth was hard as it was as if I didn't recognise myself. I know I have changed - I can see it in my eyes as they even look different. There is a new power, and evolution catalysed by the chaos I sailed through.
And I have found myself thinking - WOW - birth is really the world's best kept secret. As women we all go through some sort of initiation process. Those who have ecstatic and magic births tend to talk about them more to prove they are possible but for many (like me) who were put through the wringer our pain and stories are shelved as we need to be strong... to move on to care for the new babes in our arms.
And slowly I am begining to understand how nature takes care of this so perfectly. As I gaze at my babe I fall so deeply in love and acknowledge that all of the hurt, body desecration and pain in the world is worth it to have him in my arms. Yes there will still be processing to be done and I am sure I will feel the murmurs of this experience in my body in the future - perhaps slipping out as an emotional release when I dance, or bubbling up in a need to be heard and held as I cry for the collective of women. But when I reach into my heart in deep inquiry I know that I am at peace with all that happened. I was always at peace with it... even the really gnarly bits as I really had no set expectations.
All is as it should be... Making me a better guide, with a deeper level of experience to call on as I support the sisterhood and giving me a true experience of the power of the Mother.
I am forever changed... and forever grateful. Thank you body, thank you baby, thank you Spirit for helping me let go.
Girl has become WOMAN.
Maiden has become Mother.
Mamahood is massive and Mamas are fucking incredible. I feel so honoured to have been initiated into this sacred circle. We earn our places here through sheer hard work.
I know that I received what I needed as I always seem to call in the learnings that arm me with the tools to help me be in service to the feminine in an even bigger way. May my healing journey gift me new skills and awareness for me to share with the world.
Perhaps I am supposed to be raising awareness of the courage it takes to have an emergency c-section? Because HOLY SHIT I can tell you that takes guts. To hand over control of your body and baby to team of doctors under bright lights with zero time to integrate the idea. An anaesthetic that makes you shake like a maniac and having to - more or less - kiss your birth wishes goodbye and even fight to keep your placenta because what else can you do in that moment? To sign a waiver that says it's OK to give you a hysterectomy if something goes wrong during the op... FAR OUT!
This is why I have been saying I feel like a Warrior after my birth. I weathered the labour pain and even enjoyed it... and then I navigated the treacherous waters of heavy intervention and surgery... continuously steering my ship into the storm... because I had no choice but to be brave and get on with it.
And I know I have said it before but all birth is MASSIVE... and once again I honour all of the mamas for our courage and strength... we are so incredible there are no words big enough to express our magic.
I should note that I am now 20 days PP and have healed so fast. Mama-hood feels like a breeze in comparison to birth and we are still wrapped up in our nest loving each other so much. I have been to the washing line a few times and as far as the shops (for 5 minutes) yesterday which totally tripped me out and I wanted to tell everyone "I've had a baby!" This morning I finally pulled off the last of my c-section wound dressing and have been taking Sammy-Owl out into the fresh air and sunshine just outside our apartment a little more each day. We are taking baby steps and although being outside feels good I am not really ready for people... so we may even get to the full 40 days of seclusion... although yesterday I really wanted to do a ritual with the blood of our placenta to connect Sammy-Owl to the earth so we ventured to the little part across the street at 11 days PP.
Slowly I am me again... a better me! And it feels so good.