Monday, December 14, 2009

On Riding the Roller Coaster

To my unborn daughter,

I'm sorry.

You're only 25 weeks old and look what you've already been put through. If your time in my womb has taught you anything it should be that life is not all peachy.

I promise you I've been trying my best to make your time inside my body pleasant. But I don't know what's wrong with me. That knot I get from the stress and depression is all concentrated on where you are in my body.

I know I love you. I know that love will be multiplied by infinity once you're born. Look at how I love my Gucci & Bella - you won't even compare. So I'm sorry if it seems like there are times when you think I don't love you, that I don't want you.

Look at it this way: you're getting your first does of being a woman.

Growing you hasn't been the easiest thing I've done. There are so many things going on in my head I'm afraid you're already fucked up. The depression and insecurity are deafening. I feel completely alone even though I'm surrounded by nothing but love. I don't want any of it, and in the process I'm afraid I've just managed to make myself even more lonely, even though you're right here with me.

I truly am sorry.

You tried to come out two weeks ago. Was it because you thought you were ready? Or was it because of the grief I went through the week before when I almost left your father? I don't blame you if it's the latter, not very many people can handle that kind of pain. We made promises to be more careful, to be more loving and understanding, for our sakes and yours. Because we love you. But there are days like today when its inevitable. His unintentional selfishness and my uncontrollable depression cause me to do things like sit on a floor facing a corner and crying for hours. Then I get angry and drive through a city I don't know, listening to music and having very dark thoughts. Then you kick me - as if it's a reminder of your existence.

I am sorry.

I can't wait till you get here. So I can finally start feeling better and focus on taking the best care of you that I can. So I can show you how much I love you and prove to you that what's happening to me is the result of this monster I can't explain. I somehow believe that the postpartum depression so many women get after birth is what I'm going through right now.

I'm sorry.

I wish I could stop it and take it away so you can be content, happy, and stress free. Please stay in me for a few more weeks. Until both of us are strong enough to face life together.

I love you,


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