02/12/2024
Repost. Art and words by
“ I will never understand
How we send women into the battlefield of birth
Armed with nothing more than good vibes and a relaxing playlist
To combat a system built to break us
And with the heavy baggage of expectation
That birth will be nothing short of a transcendent spiritual experience
Where you’re supposed to meet god and find your power and become one with the universe
With your face buried in the sterile plastic of a hospital pillow
Doing your best to imitate those earthy hums from Instagram birth videos
While it feels like your insides are being ripped out
And then
They send us home
Shaken and stitched up
Leaking and bleeding—and grieving, too
To empty houses (that we’re still expected to clean)
Filled with tiny humans (that we’re still expected to feed)
With nothing more than some industrial pads and a water bottle with a straw
And then, when we dare express the soul crushing weight of
Trying to “bounce back” and carry on
As though we did not just go to battle and break open
And rebirth ourselves
Along with a brand new human
Who we are now sustaining with our body
While living on protein bars and freezer pizza and 2 hours of non-consecutive sleep
Waking up drenched in sweat and breast milk and uncontrollable tears
They slap a quick “postpartum anxiety” label on us
As though
Feeling the crushing weight of carrying humanity forward
Is a mental health disorder.
No sir.
We are not broken.
We are mothers.
The most beautiful, tender, fierce expression of existence.
Buried under the expectation that we must do life’s most sacred work
Silently, in the shadows, with no support
We are connection, softness, safety, ease.
Thrown into systems hellbent on destruction.
We are human. And we are hurting.”
