I had carried life. I had brought my daughter into the world.
But all I could feel was loss.
And guilt.
I was supposed to love being a mother.
I was supposed to be grateful.
I should have been overwhelmed with joy.
But instead?
I was drowning.
Every day felt like I was slipping further under the surface, caught in an ocean of exhaustion and doubt.
Evalie needed me constantly.
I could barely think. I could barely breathe without her cries shattering the quiet.
And worse—I started having thoughts.
Thoughts I wasn’t proud of.
Thoughts that whispered, I can’t do this.
I had spent so long surviving. Fighting. Pushing forward.
But now?
Now, I wasn’t sure if I could anymore. I wanted to run away, just go far away and never look back. I could barely take care of myself so how did I
