Chunky: Your shirt is on backwards Momma.
Me: No it isn’t. The words are on the back so everyone can read it. Are you going to wear yours to school?
Chunky: No way. There’s a “gril” on the back. Why are you wearing it?
Me: I’m wearing it because a lot of people from all over the world are going to walk for Momma’s and their babies.
Chunky: Why are they walking?
Me: Well some Mommas get sick after they have a baby.
Chunky: Oh. The diarrhea. That’s not good.
Me: No. It’s not diarrhea.
Chunky: Did you get sick after you had me?
Me: I did sweets.
Chunky: And you puked! HA! You puked. Gross.
Me: No puking. When you’re older I will tell you about it.
Chunky: I hate learning.
We both laughed as he picked up his casted arm and rested it in my hand. I gently gave it a squeeze.
“It’s happening,” I thought and began to smile.
There was a time when I couldn’t leave my home. I’d watch the same moms from my living room window walking during those cool summer mornings before the sun scorched the city. I could see their happiness and unwavering love for their babes in their strollers as they took small tender strides.
Their life looked so easy and put together. It’s as if they slid so effortlessly into their new roles as mothers.
And I hated them. Oh I hated them.
I looked down at my son, swaddled tightly in my arms as I rocked back and forth trying to quell his colicky screams.
When those moms got past my driveway, I would picture myself running after them to yell, “Why wasn’t it you?! Why wasn’t it you?! It should have been you!”
But it was me.
I was chosen to live that twisted smothering hell of fear, despair, hopelessness, helplessness, worthlessness, and chalk full of regret when I was supposed to be happy.
My name is Kimberly and I was the one in five women to be diagnosed with a postpartum mood disorder.
4 years later “this is happening.”
This is the beautiful life that I had envied after postpartum depression.
This is happening.
I’m living and loving it just like they did.
As we approached the class line I kissed the inside of his palm.
Me: I love you to the moon…
Chunky: And I love you all the way back. Momma, I’ll wear the shirt when I get home ok? It’s pretty important for mommas not to have the diarrhea.
Today, women and families and friends from all over the world will be dedicating this day, the longest day of the year to those affected and will unfortunately be affected by a postpartum mood disorder.
We will walk, we will climb, we will hold those broken spirits close to our hearts.
We fight for them today and always will.
We are “Climbing Out Of Darkness” and I encourage you to share, join, or maybe donate to this amazing cause.
You can save a life today.
You can save a life tomorrow.
Help women like me overcome this beast.
We can’t do it alone.
You can find more about this monumental walk on Postpartum Progress.