“What was the best day of your life?” a facilitator asked during an ice-breaker exercise at a workshop. I struggled to answer because I have lots of highlights, but not one big day.
“Well, the birth of your children of course,” the facilitator prompted.
Because I was standing in front of 50 other people I gave the socially acceptable answer. I laughed awkwardly and agreed with the facilitator.
But it was such a lie.
If I were being honest, my response would have been “Are your out of your freaking mind?! Was your heart attack the best day of your life?”
While I love my children, the process by which they came into the world was anything but loveable. The most accurate way to describe both of my births was a mix of emotional torment and physical trauma. It took me months to recover from each of my births.