Issue # 18

after the baby..there was you.

Last week, I wrote a letter to my pregnant self, the one trying to keep up with her old life while growing a whole new one.

Now I’ve been thinking about the version of me who came next: postpartum me. A woman healing and adjusting and waking up each day to someone completely new, her baby, yes, but also herself.

So here’s what I’d tell her now.

Dear postpartum me,

You don’t love him yet. And you knew that was likely to happen.

You trust that love would come eventually. And you are right.
But that doesn’t mean it isn't hard.

There are still those hours — at least one every day — when you are gripped by a quiet, private horror. The fear that maybe you’ve made a mistake. That maybe you aren't cut out for this. That maybe this new life was too heavy to carry.

You are so tired. So sore. So depleted.
You look at food and feel too tired to lift a fork.
You want water and dread the effort of swallowing.

You want your mom, and also, you don't. Because if she were here, you’d feel the pull to talk, to host, to take care of her. Even in your exhaustion.

You want to see people, and also, you don't. You want help, and also, you don't. You need care. But you don't want to be witnessed in that need. (Classic.)

This is what makes the early days so strange and..so messy: every instinct pulling in two directions.

And still, something is forming. A flicker. A tiny thread of attachment. A protective reflex. A warmth when you see your partner’s eyes light up just watching your baby exist.

That is the beginning of love. Not loud, not dramatic, just slow, cellular knowing.

You didn’t rush it. You didn’t force it. You didn’t expect anything different.

You were right to trust yourself.

This is what I want you to know:
You aren't failing.
You are adjusting.
You are healing.
You are becoming. Heck, 9 months later, you're still becoming.

It's all going to be hard. Things never get easier, you just level up, and what has passed seems easier, because you are ready for something harder.

And yeah, it's messy. That doesn’t mean you are doing it wrong.
You are learning. Everyone around you is learning too.
It’s fine. Really. You aren't fine, but it is fine to not be fine. You get up every day and try again. That's what it takes to live life, any life.

It's okay. Be you.

Love,
You, 6-9 months later, a little more rested, and full of love.