Yes, I am bitter. That ugly taste is in my mouth and has been brewing for a while. But an unexpected shot came up this last week and it really made me realize that I do have a bitter edge when it comes to the topic of preeclampsia.
Ya'll know that preeclampsia awareness is my thing. It's my cause. But there is a small piece of me that wishes with everything it's got, that I could be one of those women who got "mild" preeclampsia and went on with normal life never thinking about it again. Especially with another pregnancy. I wish it hadn't affected me the way it did. Hell, I'll even wish it never happened to me. I think I have that right, at the least. But that small part still wants to be that perfect pregnant woman, with the damn perfect pregnancy and delivery. And I get angry. Yes, I still get angry over developing preeclampsia. I'm angry that our experiences were tainted by it. And that I could never have another pregnancy without preeclampsia overshadowing it. Usually this happens when I'm coming up on the kids birthdays (which I am) and when I know of or see a woman who has had PE, but thinks it's nothing (which also happened).
Then I think about all the women I've met. Sharing experiences, knowing that our lives were changed forever when that wretched "P" word was shared with us by our physicians. To have a greater appreciation for my children. And to what we went through, what my body went through. I've tried to use my experience in a positive manner, and I think I've been fairly successful at it. But that doesn't mean that I don't get occasionally bitter, angry, and reflective about it.