Postpartum anxiety isn’t such a bad thing. I know, I know. It’s a crazy statement to make. But hold on! Think about how seemingly magical pregnancy and childbirth can be, right? All the systems and orders from the microscopic to the ordinary, from the smudged lipstick to the stitches, from the stretch marks to the stretched hearts.
So we sit perfectly poised in those satin covered dining chairs at the baby showers and we shake our heads and smile, we shrug, we don’t know how our hearts grew but they just did. We don’t know how we got through all that heartburn, that labour and delivery, but we did. We don’t know how we were/are able to bear such a love like this but we do, but meanwhile, as we’re scooping up our spinach dip and nibbling on our crustless egg salad sandwiches, our hormones are doing their own thing: they’re gathering their troops and preparing a savage takeover.
But you know what that looks like? Sleepless nights, panic attacks, dark thoughts that push through rationality like douchebags in a high school hallway.
Which sucks.
But just like loose joints open our hips for childbirth and breast engorgement works itself into a turkey dinner style meal for our babies, postpartum anxiety exists for a reason. While uncomfortable and downright painful, it serves to keep our babies alive. Because there is nothing more dangerous than a postpartum mother.
