Postpartum Depression and Brussel Sprouts

I have felt a tug to share this part of my story for a long time. It's a difficult thing to share when your story may shed light on someone else. This is not a story of blame. I have tried to find freedom and this is where I end up. This is the area I am digging in and shedding light. 

For the first 24 hours of my life I wasn't held. I was ripped from my mother's body in an attempt to save both of our lives. She had an infection, therefore they stuck me in an incubator. I have been told the story that a kind nurse closed the curtain and opened the circles on the incubator so my parents could touch me with out the doctor knowing. Two and a half years later my brother was born. My mom was struggling with PPD. 

Both my parents were in need of help and that left them to make a huge decision of where my brother and I would go while the sought help.
One of my very first memories is my parents dropping me off at a children's home. An orphanage. 

My memories of living in the children's home are vivid. My perception of time was a little off. What felt like 6 months, was really 2 separate stays. The first being 4 weeks and the second being about 12 weeks. I visited 2 foster homes while I was there. 

I remember one family had a rabbit, and the other family bought me a coat and a toy. This is also where my hatred for brussel sprouts come from. We were given brussel sprouts with dinner and I didn't want to eat them. 

I was told I had to eat them or I would eat them cold in the morning. 

The next morning, I gagged those cold sprouts down with milk while the other children ate fruity cereal. 

Because I was so young, I really didn't know why I was taken to the children's home.

Wasn't I wanted? Why did they leave me, did I do something wrong? Are they coming back? Where was my dad?

I have been digging deep and trying to remember but I needed help, so I have been asking a lot questions. 

I am so thankful that my parents are letting me ask questions.

I knew my dad was an alcoholic growing up, but I didn't know this was why he couldn't take care of me. 

He and my mother both were seeking treatment for their problems and trying to work on their marriage at the same time. For most of my life,  I have blamed my mother for abandoning me.

I never realized that my father was also in need of mending too! I just found this out about 2 weeks ago.

It never made sense, until now. 

I don't remember this at all but my parents did come and visit me throughout my stay. My mom says I would love on my dad but I would give her the cold shoulder. I was mad, hurt. I've carried this wall around for a long time. Sharing my story is helping demo this wall.

My parents did come back for me after their treatment. I was in Kindergarten that same year. What a year that was.

I have forgiven my mother, and father now that I know the whole story. I know I wasn't alone, nor was I unwanted. 

They needed help and needed to focus on themselves to be healthy enough to raise me and my brother.

Ultimately, I'm thankful that there was such a place for me to go to while my parents got the help they needed. I'm glad they came back for me, and that they love me.

***If you need help, with anything, please ask someone. Do not wait. Asking for help is brave! So brave. There is no shame in seeking help. Talk to someone. Be brave. xoxo