Unpacking

We unpacked a box yesterday. I thought it was full of pillows-it was not. We found all the early picture cds from our marriage, which included a lot of Paul Thomas' first few months. Goodness that was a trip to memory lane. I want to say it was all rosy memories, but the truth is when I saw pictures of me, I saw so much pain and confusion. I saw me desperately wanting guidance and protection. 

The first is so very, very hard. I relived how the most important day of my life was tainted by misguided intentions. How I, as a person, was completely disregarded the moment my child was born. 

I remembered thinking that day, "Why don't you protect me! I am strapped down unable to move, I've been through the ringer, protect me!" Honestly, I thought it again yesterday. 

Yesterday, I actually got enraged thinking about how this very most intimated family time was shattered by self seeking individuals. Individuals that never once stop to ask if we were okay with what they were doing, just that they were doing it regardless. Yesterday, I vented to Philip and then cried and then vented. He is the best. He apologized for not protecting me, he is not at fault, he needed protection and guidance too. 

Maybe one day I can look at those pictures and look in awe of that young woman who endured so much more than 18 hours of pictocin induced labor, but endured it while being trampled on and as she wanted to scream and yell, she kept it together. Maybe one of these days not only will that strong and capable woman be seen, but she will influence growth and peace in this woman. Maybe those wounds will turn into scars. Scars are simple reminders of life lived, wounds seep pain and frustration. Maybe someday soon I'll be more like her.