Sing me those (baby) blues

After June was born I was blind sighted by the "baby blues" and then by the ever deepening postpartum depression. I honestly didn't even really know what they were or why they happened. All I knew was that I felt suddenly SO sad and scared. And so I wrote. And as I deal with those same blues four babies later, now much more aware of what's going on, I remembered these writings from seven years ago. And I felt like sharing.

Here's the first one:

The Weeping Willow

The sky around her was yellow as she wept, crying her branches down to the earth. Through her curtain of sorrow, thick as it was, a lean trunk stood crooked but firm. And while it grew towards the sky her tears weighed heavy on the earth, though alive and green- she never knew. She wore her sadness as a gown. One layered and thick and weepy gown.

Next to her stood tall trees, aiming high and their branches up right. They did not droop. They did not cry. They were open and free and exposed.

And so the willow wept.

She never could see the beauty she was. She never knew that it was elegant to cry. To sob and to feel.

And the willow grew old.

Still unaware.

That the tragedy was not found in her tears.

But in the curtain that blocked her view.

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This next one is darker, and yes, I am talking about myself in it. Night time is an extra crazy time with a new baby and deranged hormones. I felt like I turned into a monster in those dark hours; I didn't know myself. I would get so scared as night approached. And as the sun would finally rise each morning I felt so much relief that the nightmare was over, again, for one more day. So here's that fun one, it has no title.

--->

 

The sky begins to bruise- deep blue into purple, while moon dust scratches across the stars. Dusk bleeds into twilight. Enchantment into fear.

Black.

Dark.

Every night. I’m scared of seeing her again. 

Her long dipped honey hair and skin of milk. The way the black drapes across her back, showing her in the silver light who she really is. 

A monster.

Trapped there in the silence. Music-less. Unholy.

I fear the night.

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I wish I could go back in time and tell myself what was happening and that it was going to be okay. I wish I would have asked for help more often. I wish I knew it was okay to talk about. But maybe now this can help someone else know those things in time and know that they are not alone. And maybe it's a good reminder for me right now too. 💗