We may have been safe, but we were not unscathed. I felt the potential catastrophes around each corner. And in the shadows lurked the great What Ifs. The Could Have Beens packed themselves into each crack of my surface.
As the deep sediments of my soul shifted and settled, I saw more clearly through the eyes of a mother. Motherhood was nothing like I had imagined.
I really want to celebrate the fact that there is finally a drug on the market specifically designed for fighting postpartum depression. But then I read about it.
When my first son was born, it took me a while to love him. I have to pause now and sit with that for a minute. I didn’t feel love for my firstborn son.
I see my little ones getting bigger day after day…and even though I suffered through postpartum depression with them…I’ve been bitten by the baby bug.
“I’m scared. Scared I’ve ruined my life and I’ll never be happy again,” I cried, wishing I wasn’t alone. Wanting someone there to help me, to pick up my baby and hold his anguish for a little while. To let me stand outside, away from the cries, away from his need of me, away from my shame. I wanted to hear that this would pass, there was help, a break.
In the prime of my selfish “pre-baby” days I got married. I moved
We may have been safe, but we were not unscathed. I felt the potential catastrophes around each corner. And in the shadows lurked the great What Ifs. The Could Have Beens packed themselves into each crack of my surface.
As the deep sediments of my soul shifted and settled, I saw more clearly through the eyes of a mother. Motherhood was nothing like I had imagined.
I really want to celebrate the fact that there is finally a drug on the market specifically designed for fighting postpartum depression. But then I read about it.
When my first son was born, it took me a while to love him. I have to pause now and sit with that for a minute. I didn’t feel love for my firstborn son.
I see my little ones getting bigger day after day…and even though I suffered through postpartum depression with them…I’ve been bitten by the baby bug.
“I’m scared. Scared I’ve ruined my life and I’ll never be happy again,” I cried, wishing I wasn’t alone. Wanting someone there to help me, to pick up my baby and hold his anguish for a little while. To let me stand outside, away from the cries, away from his need of me, away from my shame. I wanted to hear that this would pass, there was help, a break.
In the prime of my selfish “pre-baby” days I got married. I moved
