Three Glasses Later...

I just walked into the apartment and am sitting on our comfy couch. I had three glasses of wine with my fellow waitresses (my biatches) while waiting for an asshole to finish his goddamn soup and wine after the entire restaurant had emptied out.

Surprisingly, as irritating as it was waiting for this pain-in-our-asses to finish slurping his soup, I had a really incredible night.

The three of us girls, different but yet the same in so many ways, sat at the counter and shared our birth stories of our children. Maybe it was the late hour and our need to talk to make the clock turn faster. Maybe it was the Cabernet, or that our boss let us keep pouring... but the stories were in depth and heartfelt. I felt like a member of a club that I never knew existed.

It was kind of like, I will show you mine if you show me yours...

I finally opened up and let these women know what I had experienced with my birth with Rose. I've never really talked about it before, besides with immediate family. The horror of what happened to my baby and my body. But... These were women that I respect and admire. I finally said outloud what I had gone through. And to my surprise, they just listened. They didn't interrupt or give me advice or judge. They just... listened. And it really just felt so good to know that I was in a safe place, saying what I had to say.

I will admit, sometimes I think that the world revolves around me. I assume that people know the details of my life and what is happening in it. I just automatically think that people know the battles that I have fought in the past, and think... well, they will understand why I didn't show up. Or they will understand why I didn't call or text. Or they will understand why I have been so distant... Because I am healing.

And then I remember, that people don't truly know things unless you decide to say your version of the truth outloud. No one really knows what you are going through, unless you verbalize it. After three glasses of wine, I had diarrhea of the mouth, and was talking and talking about what I had experienced. Partly, because I wanted to justify why I was still distant and partly because I was still trying to build myself up, and wanting reassurance that I am okay...

I'm coming up on my thirtieth birthday, and it is kind of fucking with me a bit. It is a milestone in my life, albeit a young one... but still a marker that I am aging and growing. Part of me feels as though I am still learning and struggling to get where I want to be.

I still have my pride. I have survived a lot of things. I know that I still have an entire life to live. The good thing about turning thirty, (and being a Wife and a Mother) is that I finally have the courage to be selective. I can finally look at my life and rearrange it without giving it a second thought. Kind of the "Fuck You, Fuck You, Fuck You, You're Cool" method. I'm not afraid to stick my finger into someone's face and let them know... You don't fit here anymore.

I have a Husband. I have a Daughter.

Those two beings phenomenally important things to me, and belong to me. Every day I wake up, my feet hit the ground and I run towards the next adventure with them. That is all that matters to me. When I close the front door at night, I am wrapped in the arms of my Husband and my Daughter... and all is completely right with the world.