Thread by @r_diamond

This is me, 17 years ago almost to the minute.

I was being induced because of pre-eclampsia...after 16.5 weeks of increasingly problematic measures to keep me from delivering, thanks to going into pre-term labour at 20 weeks. (A thread) *CW:Abuse & pregnancy details*

Yes, I said 20 weeks. I was under a lot of stress at my job; they had a policy of firing pregnant women, and I'd been fighting that quite illegal discrimination.

So I wound up in hospital at 20 wks, contractions every 4-12 minutes, dilating, effacing, etc. 2/

I'd miscarried once before, and was finally pregnant after years of trying.
The first 20 wks had been spent continuously on antibiotics, with a permanent UTI, and breakthrough bleeding and repeat scares every couple of weeks. 3/

That first night in the ER, they were sure I was about to have a late-term miscarriage. I was equally sure I was not.

My faith might not have moved mountains but it DID keep the kid inside ;-)

I was on total bedrest; I literally laid on my left side the whole time. 4/

In and out of the hospital - sometimes in for 2-3wks at a stretch - the part with the kidney stones while on total bedrest and laying on my left side was a particularly hellish interval.

To make matters worse, though, my mother came to stay. 5/

At the time, I'd not yet started therapy; I was trying to break away from my family but wasn't nearly the person I am now.

So I knew that when my mother announced she would be moving in (long-suffering, martyred narcissist that she is) it would be a problem. 6/

Sure enough, the first time my husband left for work, she walked into my bedroom with an unopened can of cashews - I'm deathly allergic to tree nuts and peanuts, and she knew it since she and my father had spiked my food multiple times. 7/

"These aren't open now," she said with sadistic glee, "and you'll never know they have been opened until it's too late."

Every time I tried to ask her to leave, my contractions worsened - so I spent the rest of my pregnancy in terror. 8/

I never knew if any bite of food was going to kill me and my unborn child.
I knew I couldn't tell anyone what she'd said, because every time I tried my contractions were too severe.

So I risked it, and hung in there, hoping and praying we'd both survive her. 9/

So the picture with which I opened this thread? That's the last picture of me, before I came into my own.

It's the last picture before I birthed the next day - and during labour is where I found my voice. 10/

It's the last picture before I realized that I had not only the strength but the obligation to protect my unborn son from the hell I grew up in.

It was a process, for sure! - years of therapy, lots of struggle. 11/

My son will be 17, and it will be 12 years since the last time I saw my parents, on Nov. 15.

I knew my life would change when I had a child, but I honestly did not know that it would change that much.

I didn't know how empowered I would become. 12/

When I look at myself in that photo, I see the pain I was in - not just the labour pains, but the emotional pain. My chest hurts when I look at it and remember how much turmoil I was carrying around every single day.

And that's why I'm sharing this, y'all. 13/

In the last 17 years, I've gone from a woman unable to seek help even as I was under a direct death threat, to the woman those who once threatened are afraid to try to silence.

There was a lot more in the process of being birthed that night than just my son. 14/

So just know, when I encourage people to tell their stories & to seek freedom, that I truly do understand how that can feel impossible & overwhelming; I was 27 before I even started.

And I also know it can be done <3 So take courage, dear hearts, and birth your own truths. /fin