Oh, everyone, all of you wonderful people, hugs. Thank you for all of the comments on my last post. It's been so difficult here lately and I really needed to rest my head for a moment and whine.
On Thursday night I received a call and I've been a mess ever since. As soon as the person on the line said, "We would like to ask you some questions about your daughter's birth," my heart dropped, my stomach twisted in half, and my world tilted, memories flying off the disorganized shelves in my mind.
I haven't managed to right things yet. I'm in a place of worry and fear and anxiety. On Tuesday evening an investigator and a "subject expert" from the agency investigating the complaints surrounding Charlotte's birth will come to our home (they are being very accommodating and apologetic) to interview us. He asked if we would be willing; I suppose saying "no," was an option, but I hope - and perhaps foolishly so - that if we do this it will be the end of the investigations.
I cried immediately after hanging up the phone, my stomach in knots, my heart hammering in my chest. I'm trying to let the worry and anxiety flow through me so it doesn't collect and create a maelstrom of crazy in my brain. It's not working very well.
We hung a print in our living room recently. I see it daily, and in the midst of my five minutes after hanging up the phone panic it caught my eye.
God's got this.
Okay, okay, okay.
I'm trying to find stillness and peace. I'm trying to see this as an opportunity for my voice to be heard. For our family to say our piece, state our impressions and feelings.
It won't be easy, I don't want to do it, but maybe it will finally bring all of this to a close.