I fear my daughter will only remember the down days. The days her I spent taking baths and lying in bed. The days it seemed the cartoons never ended.
I fear my daughter will wonder how she could have made me happy.
I fear my daughter will feel the need to take care of me, her brother, and her father because her mother “just couldn’t do it today.”
I fear my daughter will believe motherhood was the cause of my sadness.
I fear most my daughter will inherit the same daunting illness that cripples me.
I HOPE my daughter remembers the days I giggled, and snuggled, and played tirelessly.
I hope my daughter will know know fiercely and deeply she is loved by me.
I hope my daughter will know I fought tooth and nail, everyday to not be crippled by this illness.
I hope my daughter can see the beauty and happiness of motherhood while we bake, paint, and read together.
I hope my daughter, if and when she experiences this daunting illness, knows she can fight through it. That she can talk about it. That she is more than depression. I hope she knows she can beat it because her mother finally did.