I remember your comfort and how you kept me warm. I remember your face above me when I cried for you. I remember you would feed me when I was hungry, or tired or in pain.
I want to encourage my son to express pride and allyship, but I also want to shield him from everything else that may come with making a statement in our small town.
Sometimes newfound motherhood finds you in a doctor’s office, checking your battle wounds from labor and painful delivery. And sometimes it finds you in the waiting room of an ER, clinging to the last bit of sanity you have left-begging for someone to hear you.
"Postpartum depression and anxiety hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t pull myself out from under it. I felt horrible for feeling the way I did because society tells new moms that motherhood shouldn’t be this way."
