SMOTHER

Innate gratitude and pure joy sanctify good motherhood. For some, the consumption of new parenthood is cushioned by sweet coos and newborn baby smell. Devotion is upheld by self-sacrifice - “She’s a natural.” For others the doctrine of good motherhood smothers new parents with ideals, ousting the realities of depression, isolation and despondency. Motherhood is not new yet the spectrum of postpartum depression remains taboo.

Time is long. The post-surgery scurry, football size baby in hand, off to grab a nursing pillow -breast is best!- when a ray of light exposes the Milky Way of dust encasing the entryway. It soon passes but a greater shadow of self scrutiny remains. Cries alarm, milk dribbles. Hours are endless. Work and homelife norms transform into unscalable mountains of grief. Identity, ideals and confidence disintegrate. Shame and guilt settle in alongside thoughts of “What have I done?” A good mom would never.

Detached, I watch the light shift subtly throughout the days, months, year. I have no right to be unhappy. Is it the hormones? When will this end? Will it end? How long has it been this way? Why can’t I do it all? What kind of feminist have I become? Can she feel my misery? It’s supposed to be natural.

1 in 7 women experience postpartum depression in the year following childbirth. Unbeknownst to me, I was one of them. A look at my own experience, smother grapples with new motherhood, postpartum mythology, and the struggle for self-compassion.