Postpartum
By Marika Garland
You love her more than anything. You know that for sure. When you’re not with her, you feel like the distance could suffocate you. When you hold her, you squeeze her tightly against your stomach. You envision her being absorbed through your skin and back into your body where you know she’ll be safe. Where her kicks will reassure you that she’s always with you. Where the world can’t get to her like it gets to you. But then you remember her smile and you know that not being able to see her would kill you. She cries and panic fills your head and your stomach and your throat. Why is she sad? Why haven’t you fixed it already? She’s quiet, but the panic’s still there. What has silenced her? How long will you have to watch her breathing before you can breathe again?
You love her always. But sometimes you miss the time before her. You see a body when you look in the mirror, but it must belong to someone else. You feel every way she’s changed you when you walk or eat or get dressed or use a toilet. Your mind aches even more than your muscles and organs. You sit next to her in the back of your car while you’re driven down the highway. You picture yourself opening the door and tumbling out. It’s not what you want, but somehow you’re worried it will happen anyway. You grip the handle of her car seat just in case your mind tries to pull your body onto the pavement. You want to pull over, but admitting why feels even more dangerous than broken bones and road burn. You would die for her if you had to, but you want to be alive too.
You love her. You do, you do, you do. Does she love you back yet? Will she ever know the person you were before? Will the new you be good enough for her? Will she feel all your cracks in her own body and mind? Will she absorb your every hope and fear and joy and sorrow? Will she thank you for her life? Will she blame you?
You love her – you have since even before her heart started beating in your body. One day, you stop the baby talk for a minute and start really talking to her. You know she can’t understand you yet, but the sound of your voice seems to comfort her and your legs will crumble if you bounce her for a second longer. You don’t know what to say, so you tell her what you dreamed about the night before. You realize you’ve dreamed of her for as long as you can remember. She reaches up and pulls your whole arm to her body with a strength that makes you wonder where it came from. She looks you in the eye and coos so quietly that it feels like she’s telling you a secret. The real her is even better than the dream version.
You love her, and maybe you can stop hating yourself because without you, there would be no her. You made her so you must not be nothing. She has taught you that you are stronger than you thought, and you will teach her that she is strong too. You will get better. You will be the best you can be because it’s what she deserves. You’ll heal because you have to. When she looks at you, she’ll see what she might be someday, and you’ll give her something to look forward to. You’ll start loving yourself so she can learn how.
THE END
Author Bio: Marika Garland works as a writer and editor in financial services. She graduated with honors in creative writing from Kenyon College and holds a master’s degree in communication from Northwestern University. She is currently seeking representation for her first novel, “Why I Hate Birds.” Learn more about her at marikaruthgarland.com.