It is Sunday morning, dreary, and we are in Summer’s wistful twilight period. I do not want it to end.
As we lounge as a family, Kenny just popped up, remembering something he wanted to share with me. It is a passage from his current read, “Harlet’s Ghost” by Norman Mailer, a fictionalized history of the CIA. How does this relate to us, you may ask?
“Some of your items nourish me through the worst of the P.P.D.’s. Yes, P.P.D.’s. You, male lummox, probably don’t know that I am speaking of postpartum depression. You can’t conceive of how ill equipped a new mother is at shaping up for the daily grind until you go through these doldrums. Even when I lift my baby out of the crib, and this warm little tenderness of spirits is in my arms, I bawl. For I begin to realize the cost and beauty of motherhood. Everything within me is being rebuilt on new terms…”
“Harlet’s Ghost” by, Norman Mailer, Randhomhouse.
That scene was supposed to have taken place in 1956. When I say “you are not alone” I really, really mean it.
