Last time I put my first birth experience into words, I had been sitting at the top of our stairs. It was some time after 5am. I hadn’t slept at all and instead, I was watching the sky change colour through the skylight. I had a pen beside me and an old envelope, I think. The back of it covered with scribbled notes. Read More Birth. Trauma. Rape. Compassion. Healing.
[Editor’s note: Trigger warning for frank discussion of sexual violence.]
In less than three months’ time, my son will be five. It will be five years since I gave birth to him. Five years since my husband and I cried with joy as he was laid on my chest. Five years since one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.