Hanging by a Thread

Yesterday, I posted an article on my Facebook page about kindergarten applications requiring certain information upon registering their child for school.  One of which was a question about whether the child was vaginal or a c-section birth.  But others pertained to whether or not the child was premature, if the pregnancy was complicated (HA!  They need more than three lines of space for me), how premature, if the baby came home with you, etc.

http://www.kctv5.com/story/29435236/mom-concerned-about-question-on-west-hartford-school-forms

This post resulted in a lot of very HEALTHY conversations regarding this and my desire to not put in any of my daughters public records the circumstances of her birth.  (And please know, that those of you who will read this and participated in that conversation, you in NO WAY offended, hurt, disrespected me, etc and I appreciated each and every ones participation as it did give alternate points of view.)

But I realized this morning why it triggered such a negative response in me.  Because of the filter I viewed it through.

Which filter was that?  The one of mommy guilt.  The one that by having to mark that box yes screams to the world the scarlet letter on MY back that I failed her.  I failed her in so many ways. That there are problems that may still arise from my inability to keep her in.

And I just find myself asking WHEN.  When will we be past all of these potential pitfalls that may come her way?  When will I be able to stop worrying that I damaged her?  When can I lay down this scarlet letter?

Granted, I will never stop sharing her story as she is truly a miracle to me.  Such a happy, healthy, vibrant, intelligent miracle.  Who has shown me more strength in one tiny body than I thought was possible.  I am so proud of her and how well she has done.

But when can I stop looking ahead to try to stay on top of any potential problems as a result of circumstances she certainly didn't cause?

When can I just enjoy her for her and the miracle that she is?

When can I stop feeling like I need to defend myself from having to explain to the world why my body decided to prematurely eject the child from my womb despite every effort to keep her in?