3 children, several years and many tears has me stumbling upon my old words.
I am hit with the need to hug the mother of that baby 6 years ago. The mother with PND who fought and fought and eventually made it out of the storm. She did not like herself. She did not appreciate her talents and she felt nothing but shame.
I want to tell her that things will get better, then worse again, then better again, and then happiness will be all consuming. That she will have more children, that with three wonderful daughters she will be blessed beyond her wildest dreams.
I want to tell her that each pregnancy will take her on a journey, and each destination will be wonderful. That, yes, there will be bumps in the road, but ultimately, she will reach her destination and happiness is as good as she hoped.
I want to hold her and take away her feelings of shame and embarrassment. To tell her that she never needed them. That she is loved and she is safe and she always has been. To praise her, to point out all the wonderful things she has achieved. I want to adorn her with garlands and celebrate her as the goddess that she is. To succeed at all she has, with the weight she had upon her, is remarkable and worthy of praise. I want to tell her that SHE is worthy of praise.
I want her to know that it’s OK. No just that it will be OK, but that it is OK.
I want to tell her to stop comparing herself to others. To stop wishing time would stop. To stop fearing others thoughts. Others do not control her, they do not own her happiness, and, quite frankly, no one was ever judging her the way she felt they were anyway. The shame was not needed.
And yet, she is me. And that shame is back.