My girls will never know my father. They'll never hear him make up the words to "I Feel Pretty." They'll never catch him sneaking thirds of Blue Bell's pralines and cream ice cream late at night. He'll never send them off to school quoting the Village Schoolmaster by Oliver Goldsmith... "And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew that one small head could carry all he knew."
I remember your comfort and how you kept me warm. I remember your face above me when I cried for you. I remember you would feed me when I was hungry, or tired or in pain.
Going through PPD has been tremendously challenging. As has been raising a newborn. Doing it without my village makes those challenges feel overwhelmingly impossible.
