I never realized before PPD that one could mourn an experience, even an experience that one is very grateful to have left behind. Maybe mourn isn't the right word, but what happens to me once in a while is just this incredibly deep sadness and disbelief as I flash through certain memories. Even now, when I feel like those days are so far from the life I have now, it shakes me to my core just the same.
Sometimes it shocks me too, when I think about the incredible, indescribably love I have for my son, and how I can't imagine my life without him, yet I can't reconcile that with the darkness and fear I went through in the first few months after he was born. It seems so raw, scary and actually even disturbing to think of these two things being related in any way. How can they have come to fruition at the same time?
Back to grief-I think I've suddenly realized what I am grieving for. It's for that girl who loved to teach kids music and couldn't wait to have kids of her own. For that pregnant lady who felt that being preggo was so much more fun than she had expected and had no idea what was coming her way. For that woman who thought that she had put her childhood behind her and was ready to become a mother. It's for the new mom who was terrified of the pain and exposure of the natural birth she had planned and hoped for. For the daughter who couldn't speak to her own mom after this birth because she was horrified at the realization that she hadn't been looked after by those who were supposed to love her the most. For the little girl that this mom reverted to in her inner self, and just curled up into a trembling ball of fear and sadness. To all of these parts of me, I see you, there. Until you're ready to go, I will comfort you.