Oh, Nicki, sorry you're blue!
It happens - it's always great during the day, but once they've gone to bed you're alone with your memories. But you are right, time does heal. I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again
, every year on Joe's birthday I take that journey on the trolley down the hospital corridor, watching the strip lights on the ceiling zip past, hearing the shouts and the clattering of the wheels and feeling like someone's just put an axe through my skull. But it doesn't hurt anymore, my heart doesn't start racing anymore, and I don't cry anymore - it's like a really well worn video.
Remember that you are turning those dark feelings into something incredibly positive every time you post on here, and help someone else through a desperate time. You are blessed with the knowledge of just how precious your little boy is, and just how lucky we are to have our children with us.
As I said on another thread, Jon's birth is what it is - it may have been scary, unpredictable, agonising, and infuriating - but it was your experience together. I would bet that all mothers replay the births of their babies on their birthdays, and no it's not chuffing fair that some women can lie back and remember something truly beautiful. Most women though, I imagine, will remember retained placentas, or episiotomies, or breach births, or a row with their partner, or the absence of a partner, or whatever - normally nothing so traumatic as HELLP or PE, but something that will take the gloss off.
I can't tell you to love what happened to you - I don't. But I'll tell you what I do love. I strain to remember the first time I saw Joe. I vaguely recall someone wheeling in his "womb with a view" (cheers, Liz!!) and letting me hold him wires and tubes and everything (that's both of us), sometime in the first 48 hours of his life. I remember looking at his tiny, tiny body and his beautiful blond hair and thinking, "Oh, it's you, then!!" And then I turn to look at the handsome and strong young man he has become, and the two pictures snap together. And all the pain and hurt float away and I'm left with the miracle that is my son, then and now.
Bless you, Nicki, you are amazing, and so is Jon.
Happy birthday, little one, and rock on, mum!!