It isn’t like in those days, when she’d lock herself in her room, away from her distressed, hungry baby. Or like those days when she’d drive off by herself and not come back until the wee hours of the morning, after I;d sent her a berating text with the two AM bottle. Or after she’d moved out, sometimes weeks passing between coming to visit him for a few minutes at a time

It’s more of the way he clings to me, afraid to let go or be put down, even when I tell him that I’ll be right back or I'm not going anywhere. It’s the tears that spring in her eyes when he reaches for me, eats only after seeing me eat, and imitates me instead of her. It’s these days, when she struggles to keep him for a few hours at her place without breaking down, or oversleeps and fails to show up to get him when she said she would.

She no longer fights the urge to smother him, but still panics when he starts to cry. She has stopped trying to dictate everything remotely, but has asked that we talk to her about everything going on for which she is not a part of. I share the cute pictures and achievements, encourage him to give her hugs, which in truth isn’t hard. He loves her too.

Medication didn’t help when she didn’t take it, therapy didn’t help when she didn’t go, and ex boyfriends didn’t help when they led to destructive arguments. The choice to change helped enormously, the fear of losing her child altogether fueling that choice.

She has a long way to go, but by taking steps she’s already almost there.  She still has obstacles to overcome, financial burdens, nosy, judgmental relatives, her shame of the past year. Many people who don’t or haven’t experienced postpartum, or any kind of depression, simply point fingers at the feelings, the behavior, and the decisions; however, such reminders that someone is bad never helps as much as encouraging them to be good. I am proud of her!