<\/a> Miroase a iarb\u0103 proasp\u0103t t\u0103iat\u0103. E r\u0103coare, u\u0219a de la balcon este deschis\u0103 \u0219i totu\u0219i eu transpir sub cele \u0219apte kilograme care sfor\u0103ie u\u0219or pe mine. Stau \u00een fund, coco\u021bat\u0103 pe perna de al\u0103ptat, cu genunchii \u00eendoi\u021bi ca s\u0103 am un punct de sprijin \u0219i m\u0103 ustur\u0103 \u00eengrozitor t\u0103lpile. Sunt sigur\u0103 c\u0103 m\u0103 voi pietrifica \u00een pozi\u021bia asta, sunt deja o piatr\u0103, un ceva care nu este viu, dar respir\u0103 pentru c\u0103 nu are curaj s\u0103 se opreasc\u0103. M\u0103 las u\u0219or \u00een jos. Nu \u00eei place c\u0103 m\u0103 mi\u0219c. Scap\u0103 s\u00e2nul \u0219i \u00eencepe s\u0103 se agite. \u00cel caut\u0103 cu gura \u0219i cu m\u00e2inile. Nu o v\u0103d. E at\u00e2t de \u00eentuneric \u00een camer\u0103 \u00eenc\u00e2t trebuie s\u0103 o pip\u0103i s\u0103 \u00eei g\u0103sesc fa\u021ba. Se lini\u0219te\u0219te imediat ce prime\u0219te din nou lapte. Tat\u0103l ei doarme l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine. L-a\u0219 trezi s\u0103 \u00eel \u00eentreb cum este s\u0103 po\u021bi face asta. I-a\u0219 cere s\u0103 stea cu mine. S\u0103 nu fiu singur\u0103. Din c\u00e2nd \u00een c\u00e2nd \u00eenchid ochii. A\u021bipesc \u0219i m\u0103 trezesc imediat speriat\u0103. Simt cum mi se face moale tot corpul \u0219i aproape o scap din bra\u021be. O lipesc mai tare de mine. Mi-e somn. M\u0103 uit la telefon. E trei diminea\u021ba. Mi-e sete. Mai sunt c\u00e2teva ore. \u0218tiu c\u0103 nu m\u0103 vede nimeni, dar exersez un z\u00e2mbet \u0219i m\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc c\u0103 dac\u0103 insist voi ob\u021bine ceva mai mult dec\u00e2t o grimas\u0103, un chip schimonosit care m\u0103 sperie \u0219i poate de aceea am uitat cum ar\u0103t pentru c\u0103 nu \u00eendr\u0103znesc s\u0103 m\u0103 privesc \u00een oglind\u0103. Mi-a amor\u021bit m\u00e2na \u0219i simt ace cum se plimb\u0103 de sus \u00een jos, de jos \u00een sus. A\u0219 merge la baie. \u00cencerc s\u0103 nu m\u0103 mai g\u00e2ndesc la asta. Str\u00e2ng picioarele c\u00e2t de \u00eencet pot ca s\u0103 nu o mi\u0219c. Mi-e dor s\u0103 visez pentru c\u0103 asta ar \u00eensemna s\u0103 dorm. Mai e pu\u021bin \u0219i o s\u0103 beau o cafea cu lapte, o s\u0103 merg la baie, poate o s\u0103 \u00eemi fac un du\u0219, o s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eentorc \u00een pat \u0219i o s\u0103 \u00eemi fie dor de mama. Dor s\u0103 \u021bipe la mine s\u0103 m\u0103 duc \u00een camera mea s\u0103 m\u0103 culc \u0219i eu s\u0103 pl\u00e2ng, nu vreau, vreau s\u0103 m\u0103 joc, nu sunt obosit\u0103. Ei s\u0103 nu \u00eei pese, s\u0103 \u021bipe mai tare \u0219i s\u0103 \u00eemi spun\u0103 s\u0103 stau acolo cu ochii \u00eenchi\u0219i p\u00e2n\u0103 adorm. E lumin\u0103 afar\u0103 \u00eei spuneam, dar nu conta pentru c\u0103 trebuia s\u0103 dorm atunci c\u00e2nd voiau oamenii mari s\u0103 dorm. Mi-e sete, cel\u0103lalt s\u00e2n s-a \u00eent\u0103rit \u0219i simt cum curge din el lapte.<\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
I am a mother and I haven\u2019t slept in four months. For more than twenty out of twenty-four hours I live in a bed. I fasten the \u201cU\u201d-shaped pillow with a round one at my back, while under the arm where I hold the baby I place one of the small pillows with multicolored diamonds. During the day, she sleeps in short, frequent rounds. I can go to the bathroom when I need to. As of eating, I eat in bed. Sometimes I read. I watch movies. Soundless. I miss the voices and the music. She cries scarcely. And only if I take the breast out of her mouth. Sometimes she bites me with her gums, she nibbles my nipples, she scratches me until I bleed. Fine, thin lines. It hurts. And I wish it would hurt a thousand times more, if that meant for her to allow me to rest at least for a few hours, lying in the whole bed, on my belly. To sleep for real, without my back, my hands, my stomach, my breasts, my neck hurting me. Without moving, without coughing, without dreaming, without feeling warm or cold.<\/p>\n
It smells like freshly cut grass. It\u2019s chilly, the balcony door is open and yet I am sweating under the seven kilograms gently snorting upon me. I\u2019m sitting up, perched on the breastfeeding pillow, with my knees bent, so I can have a counterpoint, and my feet are terribly stinging. I\u2019m convinced that I will petrify in this position, I\u2019m already a rock, I\u2019m something that\u2019s not alive, but is breathing, because it doesn\u2019t have the courage to stop. I slowly glide downwards. She doesn\u2019t like me moving. She loses the breast and starts to fuss. She searches for it with her mouth and her hands. I can\u2019t see her. It\u2019s so dark inside the room that I have to feel her in order to find her face. She becomes quiet as soon as she receives milk again. Her father is sleeping next to me. I would wake him up to ask him what it\u2019s like to be able to do this. I would ask him to stay with me. To not be alone. From time to time I close my eyes. I cuddle her closer to me. I\u2019m sleepy. I look at the phone. It\u2019s 3 AM. I\u2019m thirsty. A few hours left. I know no one is watching me, but I\u2019m practicing a smile, thinking that if I insist on it, I will obtain something more than a grimace, a crumpled face which scares me, and maybe that\u2019s why I forgot the way I look, because I don\u2019t have the guts to look at myself in the mirror. My hand has gone numb and I feel how needles are strolling upwards and downwards. I would go to the loo. I try to stop thinking about it. I squeeze my feet as softly as I can, in order not to move her. I miss dreaming, because that would mean for me to sleep. It\u2019s not long before I will drink a coffee with milk, I will go to the bathroom, maybe I will take a shower, I will get back to bed and I will miss my mother. I will miss her yelling at me to go to my room and go to bed and I would cry, I don\u2019t want to, I want to play, I\u2019m not tired. She wouldn\u2019t care, she would yell louder and tell me to sit there with my eyes closed until I fall asleep. It\u2019s light outside I would tell her, but it wouldn\u2019t matter because I had to sleep when the adults wanted me to. I\u2019m thirsty, the other breast has swollen and I feel how milk is pouring out of it. (Lavinica Mitu)<\/p>\n
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SABINA \u0218I ECATERINA<\/h2>\n
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\u00cen cazul meu, depresia postpartum a fost una \u00eent\u00e2rziat\u0103 \u2013 s-a declan\u0219at la 16 luni de la na\u0219tere \u0219i a venit \u00eempreun\u0103 cu o armat\u0103 \u00eentreag\u0103 de tulbur\u0103ri de anxietate \u0219i o criz\u0103 existen\u021bial\u0103 sever\u0103.<\/p>\n
Nu \u0219tiam nimic despre asta, simptomele au ap\u0103rut brusc \u00eentr-o noapte \u00een care am sim\u021bit c\u0103 realitatea se clatin\u0103, c\u0103-mi fuge p\u0103m\u00e2ntul de sub picioare \u0219i c\u0103 nimic din ceea ce \u0219tiam nu mai e acolo. Toate mecanismele de ap\u0103rare cu care tr\u0103isem p\u00e2n\u0103 atunci nu au mai f\u0103cut fa\u021b\u0103 la ceea ce a urmat. Nu am avut voie s\u0103 iau nimic, pentru c\u0103 al\u0103ptam \u0219i nu acceptam c\u0103 trebuie s\u0103 \u00een\u021barc ca s\u0103 pot \u00eencepe un tratament medicamentos sau orice care s\u0103 amelioreze situa\u021bia. Nici p\u00e2n\u0103 acum nu \u0219tiu cum am rezistat f\u0103r\u0103.<\/p>\n
Am \u00eenceput cu greu o \u00een\u021b\u0103rcare bl\u00e2nd\u0103, de vreo 3 luni. A\u0219teptam s\u0103 se fac\u0103 noapte ca s\u0103 alunec \u00eentr-o stare incon\u0219tient\u0103, cea mai comod\u0103 din toat\u0103 perioada neagr\u0103. Nu-mi venea s\u0103 cred c\u0103 lucrurile care-mi inundau existen\u021ba de bucurie \u2013 mai ales cele din timpul petrecut cu copilul \u2013 se opreau undeva \u00een afara fiin\u021bei mele, ca \u0219i cum a\u0219 fi purtat un scut invizibil. Sim\u021beam c\u0103 nu se poate tr\u0103i mult cu st\u0103rile acelea, cu \u00eentreb\u0103rile f\u0103r\u0103 r\u0103spuns; o perioad\u0103 mi-a fost chiar fric\u0103 s\u0103 m\u0103 uit la cer. \u00cen fa\u021ba oglinzii cu greu ridicam privirea, decuplarea sinelui nu putea fi v\u0103zut\u0103 acolo.<\/p>\n
Am intrat de urgen\u021b\u0103 \u00een \u0219edin\u021be de psihoterapie, proces \u00een care mi-am rec\u0103p\u0103tat, dup\u0103 aproape un an, din ce \u00een ce mai mult\u0103 energie psihic\u0103 s\u0103 pot aplica lucrurile care mi se spuneau. Acolo am realizat cum \u00een primul an din cre\u0219terea feti\u021bei nu mi-am dat voie s\u0103 tr\u0103iesc pentru mine, cum credeam c\u0103 nicio bucat\u0103 din mine nu merit\u0103 aten\u021bia continu\u0103 \u0219i timpul pe care vreau s\u0103 le d\u0103ruiesc copilului, cum anxietatea de separare m\u0103 f\u0103cea s\u0103 m\u0103 simt vinovat\u0103 chiar \u0219i c\u00e2nd o lua tat\u0103l ei la o plimbare de o or\u0103 la cump\u0103r\u0103turi.<\/p>\n
Din disperare, ca s\u0103 mai domolesc vertijul \u0219i senza\u021bia de ghear\u0103 care m\u0103 str\u00e2nge de g\u00e2t, f\u0103ceam de zeci de ori pe zi exerci\u021bii de respira\u021bie, analizam<\/span> suprafe\u021bele, culorile \u0219i texturile obiectelor, sunetele din jur, \u00eencercam s\u0103 fac un colaj for\u021bat de senza\u021bii care s\u0103 m\u0103 ancoreze \u00een prezent. Am \u00eenceput s\u0103 citesc c\u0103r\u021bi de self help, majoritatea scrise de terapeu\u021bi trecu\u021bi prin situa\u021bii similare; <\/span>multe dintre ele au fost un sprijin uri<\/span>a\u0219. M-am str\u0103duit s\u0103 socializez \u0219i s\u0103 ies din cas\u0103 c\u00e2t mai mult, s\u0103 cer ajutor din partea familiei, cu toat\u0103 ap\u0103sarea \u0219i vinov\u0103\u021bia pe care le sim\u021beam.<\/span><\/p>\nDar ceea ce mi-a adus \u00eentr-un final ordine, lini\u0219te \u0219i sens, a fost re\u00eent\u00e2lnirea cu mine, iar asta a fost posibil\u0103 doar prin desen \u0219i pictur\u0103, practic prin re\u00eentoarcerea la ceea ce \u0219tiu cel mai bine s\u0103 fac cu toat\u0103 fiin\u021ba mea.<\/span><\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
In my case, the Postpartum Depression was a late one \u2013 it appeared 16 months after I gave birth and came along with an army of anxiety disorder and a severe existential crisis.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know anything about this, the symptoms appeared all of the sudden one night when I felt that reality was shaking, that I was losing ground and nothing I knew of was there anymore. All the defense mechanisms I had lived with so far couldn\u2019t resist what followed. I wasn\u2019t allowed to take any medication, as I was breastfeeding and I couldn\u2019t accept the fact that I had to wean in order to try a medical treatment or anything that would make the situation better. Until today I don\u2019t know how I was able to go through without it.<\/p>\n
I hardly began a gentle weaning, which lasted for about three months. I was waiting for the night to come so I could slide into unconsciousness, the most comfortable time of all the dark period.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t believe that the things that flooded my existence with happiness \u2013 especially the time spent with my baby \u2013 would stop somewhere outside my being, as if I wore an invisible shield. I felt that I couldn\u2019t live long in those conditions, with those unanswerable questions. For some time, I was even afraid to look at the sky. I could barely lift my eyes in front of the mirror, as the self-detachment couldn\u2019t be noticed there.<\/p>\n
I imperiously began the psychotherapy sessions, a process in which I reacquired, after almost one year, more and more mental energy to apply the things I was told. It\u2019s there where I realized that, in the first year of raising my little girl, I didn\u2019t allow myself to live for my own self, as I believed not a single piece of me was worth my continuous attention and the time that I wanted to offer to my child, and also how the separation anxiety made me feel guilty even when her father would take her for an hour-long shopping walk.<\/p>\n
Out of desperation, in order to calm the vertigo and the sensation of a claw strangling me, I would do tenths of breathing exercises every day, I would analyze the surfaces, the colors and the textures of objects, the sounds around me, I would try to make a forced collage of sensations to keep me as present as I could be. I began reading self-help books, most of them written by therapists who had went through similar situations, many of which were a tremendous support. <\/span>I tried hard to socialize and go out as much as possible, to ask my family for help, despite all the heaviness and guilt that I was feeling.<\/span><\/p>\nBut the thing that finally brought me order, peace and meaning, was the encounter with myself, which was only possible through drawing and painting, basically through the return to what I know to do best. (Sabina Ve\u0219teman)<\/p>\n
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Mona \u0219i Arik<\/h2>\n
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VINOV\u0102\u021aIE<\/span><\/p>\nC\u0103 nu sunt mama de care A. Are nevoie, c\u0103 nu am sim\u021bit acel val de iubire c\u00e2nd l-am luat prima dat\u0103 \u00een bra\u021be \u0219i despre care \u00eemi povestiser\u0103 at\u00e2tea mame. C\u0103 nu m-am luptat s\u0103 m\u0103 lase s\u0103-l pun pe pielea mea \u00een spital. C\u0103 nu sim\u021beam nicio bucurie cov\u00e2r\u0219itoare c\u00e2nd eram cu el, nici durere pentru suferin\u021bele lui. C\u0103 nu sim\u021beam NIMIC. Vinov\u0103\u021bie c\u0103 eram goal\u0103 \u00een\u0103untru. VINOV\u0102\u021aIE c\u0103 NU eram \u201eNORMAL\u0102\u201d ca celelalte mame. <\/span><\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
GUILT<\/p>\n
That I’m not the mother that A. needs, that I didn’t feel a wave of love when I first held him in my arms, an emotion that so many mothers had told me about. That I didn’t fight to be allowed to put him on my skin in the hospital. That I didn’t feel any overwhelming joy when I was with him, nor pain for his sufferings. That I felt NOTHING. Guilt that I was empty inside. GUILT that I was NOT “NORMAL” like the other moms. (Mona-Silvia Timofte)<\/p>\n
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ALMA \u0218I PETRU<\/h2>\n
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Nu mai pot sta \u00een aceea\u0219i camer\u0103 cu bebe. Nu pot s\u0103 m\u0103 uit la el. Simt c\u0103 nu am ce s\u0103-i dau. Mi-e ru\u0219ine, m\u0103 simt vinovat\u0103, nu \u0219tiu de ce mai tr\u0103iesc. \u0218i, mai mult ca niciodat\u0103, am nevoie de mama. Vreau s\u0103 m\u0103 \u021bin\u0103 \u00een bra\u021be, s\u0103-mi vad\u0103 suferin\u021ba, s\u0103 mi-o aline. \u00cens\u0103 mama, la r\u00e2ndul ei, nu mai are de unde s\u0103 dea. Sunt din nou copil. M\u0103 ag\u0103\u021b de D., \u0219i el obosit \u0219i speriat.
\nTrec zile \u00eenmuiate \u00een fric\u0103. D. e acum mam\u0103 \u0219i tat\u0103 pentru mine \u0219i copil. El doarme cu bebe, el \u00eei d\u0103 s\u0103 m\u0103n\u00e2nce, el st\u0103 \u00een\u021beleg\u0103tor \u0219i calm al\u0103turi de mine \u00een timp ce pl\u00e2ng cum nu am mai pl\u00e2ns vreodat\u0103.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I can no longer be in the same room with my baby. I can barely look at him. I feel I have nothing to give. I feel shame and guilt and I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m alive anymore. And now, more than ever, I need my mom. I want her to hold me, to witness my suffering, to soothe my pain. But mom herself is no longer able to give. I regress to being a child. I cling to D., himself tired and scared.
\nDays go by, soaked in fear. D. is now a mother and father to me and our baby. He sleeps with the baby, he feeds him, he sits next to me, calm and understanding, while I cry like I\u2019ve never cried before. (Alma Epifan)[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Laura \u0219i Aurora<\/h2>\n
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Feti\u021ba mea, Aurora, care acum are 3 ani \u0219i 5 luni, \u0219i-a \u00eenceput via\u021ba embrionar\u0103 foarte dorit\u0103, dar p\u00e2n\u0103 la momentul na\u0219terii deja o regretam. Probabil c\u0103 depresia mea \u00eencepuse \u00eenc\u0103 dinainte. Dup\u0103 8 luni de sarcin\u0103 cu insomnii teribile \u0219i un risc de na\u0219tere prematur\u0103 (motiv pentru care am stat cuminte doar \u00een pozi\u021bie orizontal\u0103 \u00een ultimele 3 luni), dup\u0103 excese de furie despre care m\u0103 voi \u00eentreba mereu dac\u0103 au influen\u021bat-o sau o vor influen\u021ba \u00een via\u021b\u0103, a\u0219a cum se spune, deja \u00eemi era de ajuns. \u00cemi spuneam cuvinte grele, doar de mine auzite. \u00cemi doream s\u0103 scap, s\u0103 termin odat\u0103, s\u0103 ias\u0103 din mine, s\u0103 \u00eemi reiau via\u021ba. Astfel de g\u00e2nduri oribile \u0219i regretabile care r\u0103m\u00e2n pe veci acolo \u00een amintirea unei mame. Oare \u0219i ea le auzea? Oare sim\u021bea cum nu o pot accepta?<\/p>\n
Acceptarea a fost cea mai grea parte din terapie. La 10 luni de la na\u0219tere am \u00een\u021beles c\u0103 este momentul s\u0103 vorbesc cu cineva atunci c\u00e2nd mi-am dat seama c\u0103 nu pot accepta faptul c\u0103 feti\u021ba mea nu adormea c\u00e2nd \u0219i cum voam eu s\u0103 adoarm\u0103. Furia ie\u0219ea mereu la suprafa\u021b\u0103, mereu orientat\u0103 spre ea. Al doilea terapeut la care m-am dus s-a temut pentru via\u021ba fiicei mele. M\u0103 suna ziua \u0219i seara s\u0103 vad\u0103 cum suntem. Atunci am con\u0219tientizat c\u00e2t de grav\u0103 este situa\u021bia noastr\u0103. I-am m\u0103rturisit so\u021bului meu c\u0103 am nevoie de un psihiatru. Ne-am str\u0103duit am\u00e2ndoi cum am putut mai bine s\u0103 accept\u0103m faptul c\u0103 urma s\u0103 iau antidepresive \u0219i somnifere (plus teama de dependen\u021b\u0103, tratamentul \u00eentinz\u00e2ndu-se pe 6 luni cu supraveghere s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2nal\u0103), c\u0103 voi dormi \u00een alt\u0103 camer\u0103 pentru a \u00eemi putea reveni, c\u0103 se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103 ceva cu mine.
\nDar am reu\u0219it. Am acceptat pl\u00e2nsul f\u0103r\u0103 oprire, am acceptat loviturile, jignirile, refuzurile, \u021bipetele ei. \u0218i abia apoi a venit iubirea \u00een rela\u021bia noastr\u0103. La 3 ani \u0219i 5 luni Aurora alearg\u0103 dup\u0103 mine, deschide u\u0219a \u0219i strig\u0103: \u201eAm uitrat s\u0103 \u00ee\u021bi zic ceva, mami. Te iubesc!”. \u0218i totul devine mai u\u0219or. Acum m\u0103 accept \u0219i pe mine, a\u0219a cum sunt \u0219i pot eu, dar cea mai bun\u0103 mam\u0103 pe care ar putea-o avea copilul meu.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
My daughter, Aurora, who now is 3 years and 5 months, began her embryonic life wholly wished for, but until her birth I already regretted having her. It’s probable that my depression had started before birth. After eight months of pregnancy with terrible insomnia and a risk of premature birth (the reason for which I stood still, in horizontal position, in the last three months), after fury outbreaks – which I will always ask myself if they have influenced or will have an influence in her life, as they say – I had already had enough of it. I was telling myself tough words, that only I would hear. I wanted to break loose, to finish at last, I wanted to give birth, so I could go back to my life. Such horrible, regrettable thoughts which forever remain inside the memory of a mother. Was she hearing them? Did she feel how I couldn’t accept her?<\/p>\n
The acceptance was the toughest part of the therapy. Ten months after I gave birth I understood it was time to talk to someone, when I realized I couldn’t bear with the fact that my little girl wouldn’t fall asleep when I wanted her to. The rage would always come up, pointed towards her. The second therapist I saw was scared for my daughter’s life. He would call me day and night to see how we were doing. It’s then when I became aware of how severe our situation was. I confessed to my husband that I needed a psychiatrist. We both did our best to accept the fact that I was going to take antidepressives and sleeping pills (along with the fear of addiction, as the treatment lasted for six months with weekly supervision), that I would sleep in another room to be able to recover, that something was going on with me.<\/p>\n
But I did it. I accepted her relentless crying, I accepted her kicks, her insults, her rejections, her screams. And it’s only afterwards when love appeared inside our relationship. At 3 years and 5 months, Aurora runs towards me, opens the door and shouts: “I forgot to tell you something, mommy. I love you!”. And everything becomes easier. Now I accept myself the way I am and can be, as the best mother my child could have. (Laura Popa)<\/p>\n
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Anda \u0219i Leti\u021bia<\/h2>\n
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\u00cemi amintesc. \u00cenc\u0103 \u00eemi amintesc totul. Spitalul rece \u0219i trist. \u0218<\/span>o<\/span>cul. Figurile r\u0103v\u0103\u0219ite din jur, \u021bipetele, pl\u00e2nsetele.<\/span><\/p>\nCum am ajuns acolo? E o \u00eenchisoare. E un co\u0219mar. M-a\u021bi abandonat aici. Simt c\u0103 voi \u00eennebuni cu adev\u0103rat. M\u0103 cuprinde un sentiment de claustrofobie. Nu v\u0103d pe geam dec\u00e2t curtea spitalului. E frig, tremur sub o p\u0103tur\u0103 \u0219i pl\u00e2ng, pl\u00e2ng de disperare \u0219i nu m\u0103 mai pot opri. Sunt epuizat\u0103, a\u0219 vrea s\u0103 adorm, s\u0103 uit, dar e g\u0103l\u0103gie \u0219i mult\u0103 lumin\u0103.<\/p>\n
Din c\u00e2nd \u00een c\u00e2nd o asistent\u0103 intr\u0103 \u0219i m\u0103 ceart\u0103: \u201enu mai pl\u00e2nge, gata\u201d. <\/span>Colegele de camer\u0103, pe care nici nu le b\u0103gasem de seam\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 atunci, se apropie \u0219i ele u\u0219or \u0219i \u00eemi \u0219optesc s\u0103 m\u0103 opresc pentru c\u0103 va fi mai r\u0103u.<\/span><\/p>\nDar nu pot. M\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc \u00eentruna la feti\u021ba mea. Nu \u0219tiu c\u00e2t e ceasul. M\u0103 \u00eentreb c\u00e2nd apare medicul. M\u0103 ridic cu mari eforturi \u0219i m\u0103 sp<\/span>\u0103<\/span>l pe fa\u021b\u0103 la chiuveta din salon. Dar lacrimile continu\u0103 s\u0103 curg\u0103. M\u0103 z\u0103resc \u00een oglind\u0103. Nu sunt eu. <\/span>Ar\u0103t clar ca o nebun\u0103. <\/span>Ochii sunt at\u00e2t de umfla\u021bi \u00eenc\u00e2t sunt aproape lipi\u021bi.<\/span><\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
I remember. I still remember everything. The cold, sad hospital. The shock. The scattered figures around me, the screams, the cries.<\/p>\n
How did I get there? It\u2019s a prison. It\u2019s a nightmare. You\u2019ve abandoned me here. I feel like I am going crazy for real. A claustrophobia feeling overwhelms me. Through the window I can only see the hospital courtyard. It\u2019s cold, I\u2019m shaking under a blanket and I\u2019m crying, desperately crying and I cannot stop. I\u2019m exhausted, I would like to fall asleep, to forget, but it\u2019s noisy and there\u2019s a lot of light.<\/p>\n
From time to time, a nurse comes in and sits on me: \u201cstop crying, enough\u201d. My roommates, whom I haven\u2019t even noticed until then, gently approach me and whisper to stop, because it will get worse.<\/p>\n
But I can\u2019t. I can\u2019t stop thinking about my little girl. I don\u2019t know what time it is. I wonder when the doctor will appear. I get up with great effort and <\/span>I wash my face at the sink <\/span>i<\/span>n our ward. But the tears keep falling. I look at myself <\/span>i<\/span>n the mirror. It <\/span>isn\u2019t me. I clearly look like a crazy person. My eyes are so swollen that they\u2019re almost glued. <\/span>(<\/span>Anda Hutanu)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Petra \u0219i Irina<\/h2>\n
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Tocmai ai terminat de supt din s\u00e2nul meu st\u00e2ng. \u00ce\u021bi \u00eenchizi \u00eenceti\u0219or, lin pleoapele \u0219i adormi, inspir\u00e2ndu-mi mirosul. \u00cen loc s\u0103 pun \u0219i eu, lini\u0219tit\u0103, capul pe pern\u0103, \u00een mintea mea \u00eencepe lupta de sear\u0103.<\/p>\n
R\u0103sar, pe c\u00e2mpul de b\u0103t\u0103lie, toate lucrurile pe care trebuia s\u0103 le fac \u2013 azi, ieri, acum o s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103, \u00een cele aproape cinci luni de c\u00e2nd te-am n\u0103scut \u2013 \u0219i pentru care nu am g\u0103sit nici m\u0103car o f\u0103r\u00e2m\u0103 de putere. Se-nt\u00e2lnesc, \u00een tran\u0219ee, frustrarea c\u0103 nu petrec \u00eendeajuns timp cu tine \u2013 la joac\u0103 activ\u0103 sau la spus pove\u0219ti, la masaj sau la \u00eembr\u0103\u021bi\u0219at, cu regretele tuturor acelor lucruri pe care le-am f\u0103cut profund gre\u0219it \u2013 prima ta internare, multiplele controale la care te-am dus din pricina anxiet\u0103\u021bii mele de mam\u0103-medic rezident, toate d\u0103\u021bile \u00een care instinctul meu matern n-a func\u021bionat \u0219i te priveam, neputincio\u0219i, ne\u0219tiind de ce nu m\u0103n\u00e2nci, de ce pl\u00e2ngi, cum s\u0103 te lini\u0219tesc.<\/p>\n
Am renun\u021bat la visul meu de medic pediatru \u00een Elve\u021bia deoarece formarea mea, cu minim 12 ore de munc\u0103 la spital, m-ar fi \u021binut departe de tine \u00eenc\u0103 de la nici cinci luni ale tale. De ce nu pot, acum, s\u0103 fiu pe deplin \u00eemp\u0103cat\u0103 cu alegerea mea? De ce nu pot fi mama calm\u0103, r\u0103bd\u0103toare, la pieptulc\u0103reia s\u0103-\u021bi g\u0103se\u0219ti pacea, ce m-am rugat s\u0103 fiu? De ce nu pot, de fapt, nici s\u0103 m\u0103 rog? Z\u00e2mbe\u0219ti \u00een somn. Sur\u00e2sul t\u0103u, lumina din ochii t\u0103i alba\u0219tri ca cerul \u00eenstelat, clinchetul r\u00e2sului t\u0103u, bucuria ce-\u021bi inund\u0103 chipul c\u00e2nd m\u0103 prive\u0219ti, atingerea catifelat\u0103 a degetelor tale mici \u2013 de acestea m\u0103 ag\u0103\u021b cu putere, ele m\u0103 \u021bin tare \u0219i respir: a mai trecut o zi \u00een care m-ai \u00eenv\u0103\u021bat s\u0103 te iubesc.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
You’ve just finished sucking milk from my left breast. You’re slowly closing your eyes and falling asleep, breathing my smell. Instead of comfortably placing my head on the pillow, the evening struggle begins inside my mind.<\/p>\n
On the battlefield show up all the things I should have done – today, yesterday, a week ago, in those almost five months since I gave birth to you – and which I didn’t find not even a crumble of power for. In the trenches, the frustration that I don’t spend enough time with you – actively playing or telling stories, massaging or hugging you – meets the regrets of all those things I’ve done profoundly wrong – your first hospitalization, the multiple checks I took you to because of my anxiety as a mother and resident physician, all those times when my motherly instinct didn’t work and I looked at you, powerless, not knowing why you didn’t eat, why you cried, how to calm you down.<\/p>\n
I gave up on my dream of becoming a pediatrician in Switzerland, as my training, consisting of a minimum of 12 hours of work at the hospital, would have kept me away from you. Why is it that now I cannot be fully reconciled with my choice? What can’t I be the calm, patient mother, whose chest you’d find comfort at, the mother I prayed to be? Why can’t I even pray? You’re smiling in your sleep. Your smile, the light from your blue eyes, like the starry sky, the tinkle of your laugh, the joy that fills your face when you look at me, the soft touch of your tiny fingers – I cling on these with all my strength and I breathe; one more day has passed in which you’ve taught me how to love you. (Petra Ioana \u0218tirb-Trifon)<\/p>\n
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Alina, Vladimir \u0219i Carol<\/h2>\n
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Am dansat cu depresia postnatal\u0103 de dou\u0103 ori, prima oar\u0103, la Vladimir nici nu am realizat cum a venit, \u00eens\u0103 dup\u0103 ce am n\u0103scut prematur, dup\u0103 ce am respirat u\u0219urat\u0103 c\u0103 \u00eel \u021bin \u00een bra\u021be, am \u00eenceput s\u0103 m\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc c\u00e2t va dura acest bine \u0219i tr\u0103iam permanent o panic\u0103 \u00een care mi-era fric\u0103 s\u0103 m\u0103 mai bucur de el \u00een vreun fel. \u00cemi era team\u0103 c\u0103 \u00een orice moment se poate \u00eent\u00e2mpla ceva \u0219i vom sta iar desp\u0103r\u021bi\u021bi, c\u0103 cineva mi-l va lua. \u00cemi era team\u0103 c\u0103 nu fac destul bine, \u00eemi era team\u0103 de tot \u0219i m\u0103 sim\u021beam vinovat\u0103 c\u0103 nu sunt destul de bun\u0103, iar toate insisten\u021bele cu \u00eendemnul de a-l l\u0103sa \u00een grija altcuiva dec\u00e2t a mea nu f\u0103ceau dec\u00e2t s\u0103 m\u0103 ad\u00e2nceasc\u0103 \u0219i mai mult. Mi se p\u0103rea at\u00e2t de trist c\u0103 nimeni nu \u00een\u021belegea c\u00e2t de dur\u0103 a fost desp\u0103r\u021birea pe care am tr\u0103it-o \u00een primele zile de dup\u0103 na\u0219tere \u0219i cumva, mi se p\u0103rea c\u0103 sunt gre\u0219it\u0103.<\/p>\n
M-au ajutat plimb\u0103rile lungi. Plecam \u00eentr-o excursie \u00een fiecare zi, f\u0103ceam \u0219i 15 km pe jos cu el \u00een c\u0103ru\u021b. C\u00e2nd sim\u021beam c\u0103 m\u0103 ia cople\u0219eala, ne \u00eembr\u0103cam \u0219i ie\u0219eam afar\u0103. La un an jum\u0103tate ai lui Vladimir am aflat c\u0103 sunt din nou \u00eens\u0103rcinat\u0103. Nu m\u0103 a\u0219teptam, de\u0219i \u00een subcon\u0219tientul meu \u00eemi mai doream un copil, aceast\u0103 veste m-a b\u0103gat \u00eentr-o serie de \u00eentreb\u0103ri \u0219i g\u00e2nduri \u0219i fric\u0103 care au disp\u0103rut u\u0219or u\u0219or p\u00e2n\u0103 la na\u0219tere. Perioada de sarcin\u0103 a fost fix aceea\u0219i ca la Vladimir, au avut acela\u0219i termen, 6 noiembrie, doar c\u0103 am\u00e2ndoi au venit mai devreme, Vladimir pe 6 septembrie, iar Carol pe 14 octombrie.<\/p>\n
La cea de a doua na\u0219tere, am fost anesteziat\u0103 total. Nici m\u0103car nu am v\u0103zut copilul c\u00e2nd l-au scos din mine. Eram \u00een pandemie \u0219i de\u0219i, \u00eencercam s\u0103 fiu tare, m-au cople\u0219it g\u00e2ndurile, dorul de cel mare \u0219i vinov\u0103\u021bia c\u0103 am venit la spital s\u0103 \u00eel nasc pe frati-su, teama c\u0103 nu \u00eei voi iubi pe am\u00e2ndoi destul de tare. Dup\u0103 ce am ajuns acas\u0103, o lun\u0103 am pl\u00e2ns \u00een fiecare zi. \u00cemi era team\u0103 de tot, mi se p\u0103rea c\u0103 nu sunt de ajuns, c\u0103 nu pot pleca nic\u0103ieri, c\u0103 nu pot face nimic. St\u0103m la etajul 9, m\u0103 uitam pe geam \u0219i aveam senza\u021bia c\u0103 a\u0219 putea rezolva rapid situa\u021bia \u00een care m\u0103 aflu, \u00eens\u0103 g\u00e2ndul c\u0103 nimeni nu are destul\u0103 r\u0103bdare cu copiii mei mai mult dec\u00e2t mine, m\u0103 trezea la realitate \u0219i nu ie\u0219eam pe balcon de team\u0103 s\u0103 nu am vreun moment de incon\u0219tien\u021b\u0103 \u0219i s\u0103 fac ceva iremediabil.<\/p>\n
Acum, dup\u0103 a doua na\u0219tere am sim\u021bit mai tare ce e \u00een neregul\u0103 cu mine \u0219i am cerut ajutor. Vorbeam zilnic cu prietenele mele cu doi copii care \u00eemi validau tr\u0103irile, am \u00eenceput s\u0103 vorbesc cu un psiholog \u0219i s\u0103 citesc mult. Multe c\u0103r\u021bi despre femei care au tr\u0103it \u00een timpuri grele \u0219i au f\u0103cut fa\u021b\u0103, astfel am ajuns s\u0103 fiu recunosc\u0103toare pentru via\u021ba pe care o am \u0219i pentru b\u0103ie\u021bii minuna\u021bi pe care \u00eei am.<\/p>\n
Depresia postnatal\u0103 nu e o glum\u0103, nu e un alint, poate da cu tine de to\u021bi pere\u021bii \u0219i poate s\u0103 te bage \u00een ni\u0219te st\u0103ri din care po\u021bi ie\u0219i cu greu. E important tare s\u0103 ai persoane care s\u0103 \u00een\u021beleag\u0103 acest fapt \u0219i s\u0103 \u00ee\u021bi valideze tr\u0103irile \u0219i s\u0103 te asigure c\u0103 va trece, fiindc\u0103 trece, doar trebuie s\u0103 ne d\u0103m timp \u0219i voie. Iar apoi vine momentul \u00een care te bucuri cu adev\u0103rat de ce e\u0219ti, o mam\u0103 bun\u0103 care face tot ce poate s\u0103 creeze o lumea mai bun\u0103.<\/p>\n
—<\/p><\/div>\n
I danced with the Postpartum Depression twice, the first time, with Vladimir, I didn\u2019t even realize how it come, but after prematurely giving birth, after sighing with relief for holding him in my arms, I began to think for how long this well-being would last, and I was permanently living a panic where I was afraid to even enjoy my son. I was scared that any moment something could happen and we would be separated again, that someone would take him away from me. I was fearful that I wasn\u2019t doing things well enough, I was fearful of everything and felt guilty that I wasn\u2019t good enough, and all the urgings with the advice to leave him with someone else instead of me didn\u2019t do anything but sink me even further. It seemed sad to me that no one would understand how harsh the separation we experienced in the first days after his birth was and, somehow, it felt as if I were wrong.<\/p>\n
The long walks helped me. We would go out for short trips every day, I would even walk for 15 km with him in the stroller. When I felt overwhelmed, I would dress up and go outside. When Vladimir was one year and a half, I found out that I was pregnant again. I wasn\u2019t expecting it, although in my subconscious I wanted another child, this news put me into a series of questions and fears which slowly disappeared until his birth. The pregnancy was the same as with Vladimir, it had the same term as his, the 6th<\/sup> of November, yet both of them came earlier, Vladimir on the 6th<\/sup> of September, and Carol on the 14th<\/sup> of October.<\/p>\nWhen I gave birth the second time, I was completely under anesthesia. I didn\u2019t even see my baby when they took him out of me. It was during the pandemic and although I tried to stay strong, the thoughts overwhelmed me, as well as missing my elder child, and the guilt that I came to the hospital to give birth to his brother, the fear that I wouldn\u2019t love them enough. After I got home, I cried each day for a month. I was scared of everything, it felt like I wasn\u2019t enough, like I couldn\u2019t go anywhere, nor do anything. We live on the 9th<\/sup> floor, I would look outside the window and had the feeling that I could quickly fix the situation I was in, yet the thought that no one would be patient enough with my children, more than I did, would wake me up to reality, and I wouldn\u2019t go on the balcony, as I was afraid I would have a moment of unconsciousness and do something irrecoverable.<\/p>\nNow, after having my second child I felt stronger that something was going on with me, and I asked for help. I would talk daily to my friends who also had two children and would validate my experiences, I began talking to a therapist and reading a lot. Lots of books about women who lived during difficult times and prevailed, and that\u2019s how I ended up being grateful for my life and for the wonderful boys I have.<\/p>\n
Postnatal Depression is not a joke, is not a smouge, it can bring you to desperation and take you to states which are difficult to overcome. It\u2019s really important to have people who understand this near you, and who validate your feelings and reassure you that it will pass, because it goes way, we just need to allow this and give ourselves time. And then comes the moment when you truly enjoy what you are, a good mother who does her best to create a better world. (Alina Chiticaru)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Silvana \u0219i Ileana<\/h2>\n
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\u00centr-o diminea\u021b\u0103 din primele ei zile, \u00een timp ce \u00eei schimbam salopeta \u0219i ea era mai lini\u0219tit\u0103 ca oric\u00e2nd, am avut certitudinea c\u0103 am f\u0103cut o mi\u0219care gre\u0219it\u0103 \u0219i i-am fracturat g\u00e2tul. At\u00e2t de departe ajunsese nesiguran\u021ba mea.<\/p>\n
Au urmat doi ani \u00een care Silvana nu a existat. Silvana devenise mama Ileanei, nu mai \u0219tia ce \u00eenseamn\u0103 s\u0103 sim\u021bi ceva \u00een afara maternit\u0103\u021bii, se sim\u021bea constant nesigur\u0103 \u0219i vinovat\u0103 pentru c\u0103 de cele mai multe ori intui\u021bia mea p\u0103rea s\u0103 fie inexistent\u0103. Atunci c\u00e2nd Ileana pl\u00e2ngea, mintea mea se bloca \u0219i nu puteam distinge cauza, prin urmare solu\u021biile nu erau de g\u0103sit.<\/p>\n
S\u0103 te sim\u021bi neputincios \u00een fa\u021ba propriului copil te love\u0219te cu o putere at\u00e2t de mare, \u00eenc\u00e2t nici nu realizezi c\u0103 e\u0219ti la p\u0103m\u00e2nt. Ast\u0103zi m\u0103 \u00eentreb at\u00e2t de des cum era Ileana, ce f\u0103cea ea, ce \u00eei pl\u0103cea \u0219i cum ar\u0103tau zilele noastre. De ce am ratat doi ani? Cine mi i-a furat \u0219i cum \u00eei voi lua vreodat\u0103 \u00eenapoi? E adev\u0103rat c\u0103 \u00een tot acest h\u0103u, \u00een tot acest \u00eentuneric, f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 v\u0103d m\u0103car, p\u0103r\u021bi din mine au \u00eenceput s\u0103 \u00eenfloreasc\u0103.<\/p>\n
C\u00e2ndva am fost mic\u0103. C\u00e2ndva am fost o umbr\u0103. C\u00e2ndva credeam c\u0103 nimic din mine nu va mai ie\u0219i vreodat\u0103 la suprafa\u021b\u0103. Acum \u0219tiu c\u0103 toat\u0103 aceast\u0103 experien\u021b\u0103 a fost de fapt un drum c\u0103tre cine sunt eu cu adev\u0103rat. \u0218i de cele mai multe ori, m\u0103 bucur.<\/p>\n
Dar o parte din mine \u00eenc\u0103 se \u00eentreab\u0103: voi primi vreodat<\/span>\u0103 primii doi ani al\u0103turi de fiica mea \u00eenapoi?<\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
One of the first mornings with her, while I was changing her overall and she was quieter than ever, I had the certainty that I had done a wrong move and hurt her neck. My insecurity had reached that far. <\/span><\/p>\nFor the next two years, Silvana didn\u2019t exist. Silvana had become Ileana\u2019s mother, she didn\u2019t know what it was like to feel something else beside maternity, she felt constantly insecure and guilty, as most of the times, my intuition seemed to be nonexistent. <\/span>When Ileana was crying, my mind would get stuck and I couldn\u2019t distinguish the cause, thus the solutions were nowhere to be found.<\/span><\/p>\nTo feel unable in front of your own child hits with such great strength, that you don\u2019t even realize you\u2019re underfoot. Today I often wonder what was Ileana like, what was she doing, what did she enjoy and how our days looked like. Why did I miss two years? Who stole them away from me and how will I ever have them back? It is true that, within all this abyss, within all this dark, without even seeing, parts of me began to flourish. <\/span><\/p>\nOnce<\/span> I was little. <\/span>Once I was a shadow. Once I thought that nothing of what I was would ever come to surface. Now I know that all this experience was actually a road to who I truly am. And most of the times, I am glad about it.<\/span><\/p>\nYet a part of me still asks herse<\/span>lf: will I ever have back the first two years with my daughter? (Silvana Dulam\u0103-Popa)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Cristina \u0219i Andrei<\/h2>\n
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M-au ajutat enorm cele dou\u0103 ore pe care le petreceam zilnic \u00eenchis\u0103 \u00een capsula de oxigen. Am citit mult, am vorbit mult cu mine, am meditat, am f\u0103cut plan de recuperare \u0219i ac\u021biune.<\/p>\n
\u00cenc\u0103 mai am momente c\u00e2nd cred c\u0103 nu sunt suficient de bun\u0103, \u00eenc\u0103 am momente c\u00e2nd m\u0103 \u00eenfurii pe mine c\u00e2nd pl\u00e2nge \u0219i nu \u0219tiu ce s\u0103 \u00eei fac.<\/p>\n
Lucrez cu mine zilnic. Mi-am creat mecanisme care s\u0103 m\u0103 ajute s\u0103 m\u0103 calmez \u00een momente grele. C\u00e2nt mult. Dansez. Bat din palme. M\u0103 ating con\u0219tient. M\u0103 sp\u0103l cu ap\u0103 rece. Scriu \u00een fiecare sear\u0103 ce am f\u0103cut ziua. \u0218i fotografiez mult. C\u00e2nd el doarme, m\u0103 uit la poze, retr\u0103iesc momentele, reflectez \u0219i meditez la ce mai am de lucru. Apoi respir \u0219i tr\u0103iesc.<\/p>\n
A \u00eenceput s\u0103 \u00eemi revin\u0103 sim\u021bul umorului \u0219i no\u021biunea timpului.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
The two hours that I spent daily inside the oxygen capsule helped me tremendously. I read a lot, I talked a lot to myself, I meditated, I made a plan of recovery and action.<\/p>\n
I still have moments when I believe I’m not good enough, when I get angry with myself when he cries and I don’t know what to do.
\nI work with myself each day. I’ve created mechanisms which help me calm down during hard times. I sing a lot. I dance. I clap my hands. I consciously touch myself. I wash myself with cold water. Every evening, I write what I did during the day. And I take a lot of photos. When he sleeps, I look at the pictures, I relive the moments, I reflect and meditate upon what I still have to work on. Then I breathe and live.<\/p>\n
I’m starting to get back my sense of smell and notion of time. (Cristina \u0218erban)<\/p>\n
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DIANA \u0218I MIRUNA<\/h2>\n
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\u0218tiam c\u0103 \u00eemi va fi foarte greu ca mam\u0103, dar nu mi-am putut imagina c\u0103 va fi at\u00e2t de solicitant pe toate planurile. Toat\u0103 lumea vrea s\u0103 \u0219tie cum e bebe, a\u0219a c\u0103 nu te mai g\u00e2nde\u0219ti nici tu la tine. Dup\u0103 c\u00e2teva luni m-a lovit, \u00eens\u0103, ideea c\u0103 nu \u0219tiu cine mai sunt, c\u0103 nu \u0219tiu ce caut \u00een via\u021ba mea, c\u0103 eu nu-mi mai apar\u021bin. \u0218i mereu g\u00e2ndul obsesiv c\u0103 fac totul gre\u0219it. C\u0103 eu nu sunt \u00eendeajuns. C\u0103 nu am f\u0103cut suficient. C\u0103 sigur am stricat copilul pe via\u021b\u0103. Oboseala, frustrarea \u0219i anxietatea au creat un monstru care ie\u0219ea din mine tot mai des. Nu \u0219tiam c\u0103 exist\u0103 at\u00e2tea st\u0103ri extreme pe care le pot \u00eendura. M-am ag\u0103\u021bat cu din\u021bii de ceea ce \u00eemi f\u0103cea bine: plim<\/span>b\u0103ri lungi cu ea \u00een marsupiu pe c\u00e2mpuri, \u00een p\u0103dure, pe plaj\u0103, \u00een parcuri. S\u0103 privesc marea de pe st\u00e2nci \u0219i s\u0103 fac exerci\u021bii de respira\u021bie. C\u00e2teva podcasturi \u0219i ceva bun de m\u00e2ncat. O plimbare singur\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 la Mega. O evadare cu bicicleta de c\u00e2teva minute. \u0218i \u00eentr-un final, c\u00e2nd am putut, terapie.<\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
I knew it would be difficult a<\/span>s <\/span>a mother, but <\/span>I<\/span> couldn\u2019<\/span>t imagine it would be so challenging on all levels. Everybody wants to know how\u2019s the baby, so you stop thinking about yourself. However, after a few months, the idea that I don\u2019t know who I am anymore, that I don\u2019t know what I\u2019m doing in my own life, that I don\u2019t belong to myself anymore, hit me. Together with the persistent, obsessive thought that I\u2019m doing everything wrong. That I\u2019m not enough. That I didn\u2019t do enough. That I definitely ruined the baby\u2019s life forever. The tiredness, the frustration and the anxiety created a monster who would come out of me more and more often. I didn\u2019t know there can be so many extreme states that I could endure. I clang desperately to everything that would make me feel better: long strolls with her in the pouch, on the fields, in the woods, on the beach, in parks. Watching the sea from the cliffs and breathing exercises. A few podcasts and something nice to eat. A walk to Mega Image on my own. A few minutes escape with the bicycle. And, finally, when I was able to do it, therapy. (Diana Vasiliu)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Ioana \u0219i Lucas<\/h2>\n
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Am crezut c\u0103 iubirea unei mame poate \u00eenvinge orice. A\u0219a citisem, a\u0219a auzisem. Pe 7 septembrie 2020 l-am n\u0103scut Lucas. \u0218i acum mi-e greu s\u0103 exprim exact \u00een cuvinte c\u00e2te emo\u021bii am sim\u021bit, la un loc, atunci c\u00e2nd l-am vazut. Primele trei zile am fost doar noi doi. Cu o lun\u0103 \u00eenainte, mama pierduse \u00een fa\u021ba cancerului. De aproape un an ne str\u0103duiam s\u0103 ne \u021binem firma \u00eenc\u0103 pe pia\u021b\u0103, \u00eentr-o vreme \u00een care mai toate proiectele s-au oprit \u0219i mai totul era despre pandemie. Am lucrat \u00een ziua \u00een care am n\u0103scut \u0219i multe zilele dup\u0103, printre pic\u0103turi. Dar nu conta, am crezut c\u0103 o s\u0103 fiu puternic\u0103, eu, pentru am\u00e2ndoi.<\/p>\n
O lun\u0103 mai t\u00e2rziu, \u00eens\u0103, sim\u021beam cum totul \u00eencepe s\u0103 se \u00eenv\u00e2rt\u0103 la o vitez\u0103 cu care abia mai puteam s\u0103 stau \u00een picioare. Dup\u0103 sute de treziri din or\u0103 \u00een or\u0103 noaptea, greul al\u0103pt\u0103rii, co\u0219maruri, insomnii, atacuri de panic\u0103, dureri fizice uneori insuportabile, pl\u00e2ns mult \u0219i des \u00een ad\u00e2ncul sufletului, eforturi de a fi mama perfect\u0103 \u0219i ore de munc\u0103 pe apucate aproape zi de zi\u2026 am \u00eenceput s\u0103 nu mai fiu a\u0219a puternic\u0103. Mintea mea s-a sufocat, s-a sup\u0103rat.<\/p>\n
Trei luni mai t\u00e2rziu m\u0103 sim\u021beam singur\u0103, de\u0219i nu eram. Trist\u0103, neputincioas\u0103, ur\u00e2t\u0103, gre\u0219it\u0103, din ce \u00een ce mai des. Parc\u0103 via\u021ba mea m\u0103 dep\u0103\u0219ea la kilometri distan\u021b\u0103 \u0219i nici toate c\u0103r\u021bile citite nici toat\u0103 iubirea \u00een jurul meu nu m\u0103 puteau ajuta s\u0103 m\u0103 readun. M-am t\u00e2r\u00e2t vreo 5-6 luni, la propriu \u0219i la figurat: \u00eentre bucurie \u0219i dezn\u0103dejde, \u00eentre momente frumoase \u0219i depresie, \u00eentre hiperactivitate \u0219i letargie, \u00eentre bebe \u0219i doliu, \u00eentre zile bune \u0219i grele. \u00centre zeci de analize, drumuri le doctor \u0219i terapie. \u00centre recuno\u0219tin\u021b\u0103 c\u0103 \u00een\u021beleg ce mi se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103 \u0219i furia c\u0103 nu \u00een\u021beleg de ce.<\/p>\n
Lucas are acum un an \u0219i e un b\u0103ie\u021bel curios, curajos \u0219i vesel. E lumin\u0103, din multe puncte de vedere. Pentru c\u0103 m\u0103 \u021bine prezent\u0103, pentru c\u0103 fiecare zi cu el e plin\u0103 de nou. Iar eu sunt mult mai bine. Nu \u0219tiu s\u0103 spun exact de c\u00e2nd sunt mai bine, am descoperit c\u0103 revenirea se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103 uneori cu pa\u0219i mici, insesizabili.<\/p>\n
A\u0219a cum se vede azi, de la mine, nu e nimic epic \u00een drumul spre echilibru: e un parcurs \u00eencet prin negur\u0103 \u00een care cu r\u0103bdare, cu voin\u021b\u0103 \u0219i cu ajutor, \u00eencepi s\u0103 revezi lumina. Un maraton \u00een care e vital s\u0103 re\u00eenve\u021bi s\u0103 te iube\u0219ti, s\u0103 te accep\u021bi \u0219i s\u0103 \u00ee\u021bi acorzi timp \u00een primul r\u00e2nd \u021bie, ca s\u0103 po\u021bi fi cu adev\u0103rat bine l\u00e2ng\u0103 cei dragi. Ce e minunat \u00eens\u0103 e c\u0103 lumina asta nou\u0103 e parc\u0103 mai clar\u0103, mai vie \u0219i mai cu sens: ce fac, ce sunt, cum iubesc azi \u0219i cum pre\u021buiesc fiecare clip\u0103 cu Lucas este con\u0219tient si foarte asumat, partea bun\u0103 din urma luptei cu mintea mea. \u00cen care pare c\u0103, totu\u0219i, am fost suficient de puternic\u0103, p\u00e2n\u0103 la urm\u0103.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I used to believe that a mother\u2019s love can overcome anything. That\u2019s what I had read, what I had heard. On September 7th 2020 I gave birth to Lucas. Even now it\u2019s difficult for me to express through words how many different emotions I felt, at once, when I saw him. We were alone for the first three days. A month before, my Mom had lost the fight with cancer. For almost one year we had struggled to keep our business alive, in a time when almost all the projects stopped and everything was about the pandemic. I worked the day I gave birth and many days after, by fits and starts. But it didn\u2019t matter, I thought I would be strong enough for both of us.<\/p>\n
However, one month later, I felt how everything started to spin at a speed that would make me barely stay on the ground. After hundreds of awakenings each hour at night, the struggle with breastfeeding, nightmares, insomnia, panic attacks, sometimes unbearable physical pain, lots of crying inside my soul, efforts to be the perfect mother and hours of hit or miss work almost every day\u2026 I began not to be that strong anymore. My mind choked, it turned mad.<\/p>\n
Three months later I felt alone, even though I wasn\u2019t. Sad, powerless, ugly, wrong, more and more often. It seemed as though my life was surpassing me, miles away, and not even all the books I had read or the love around me could help me pick myself up again. I literally crawled for 5-6 months: between joy and hopelessness, between beautiful moments and depression, between hyperactivity and lethargy, between the baby and the mourning, between good days and hard days. Between tenths of analysis, doctor visits and therapy. Between gratitude that I understood what was going on with me and the rage that I didn\u2019t understand why.<\/p>\n
Lucas is now one-year-old and he\u2019s a curious, brave and happy little boy. He\u2019s light, from many points of view. Because he keeps me present, because each day with him is full of novelty. And I\u2019m a lot better. I can\u2019t tell exactly since when I\u2019ve felt better, I\u2019ve discovered that the comeback sometimes happens with small, intangible steps.<\/p>\n
As one can see today, in my case, there\u2019s nothing epic on the road to equilibrium: it\u2019s a slow journey through the darkness, in which, with patience, will and help, you begin to see the light again. A marathon in which it\u2019s vital to learn to love yourself again, to accept yourself and give yourself time, above all, in order to be truly well near the dear ones. What\u2019s wonderful is that this new light seems to be clearer, more alive and more meaningful: what I do, what I am, how I love today and how I cherish each moment with Lucas is conscious and very assumed, this being the good side of the fight with my own mind. A fight where it seems that I was strong enough, after all. (Ioana Barbu-Cristea)<\/p>\n
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Sima \u0219i Eva<\/h2>\n
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Deodat\u0103 am doi str\u0103ini \u00een cas\u0103. Unul este mic, pl\u00e2nge, doarme, pl\u00e2nge. Al doilea se uit\u0103 la mine \u00een oglind\u0103. De cine mi-e mai fric\u0103? Cum s\u0103 regret ceva ce mi-am dorit? \u201eFelicit\u0103ri! Sunte\u021bi iar \u00eens\u0103rcinat\u0103?” \u2013 o vecin\u0103 c\u00e2nd m\u0103 chinuiam cu Eva, c\u0103ruciorul \u00een lift \u0219i anxietatea ie\u0219irii din cas\u0103. Eva avea 2 luni. \u201eNu, abia am n\u0103scut.” Abia am n\u0103scut \u2013 sentimentul care m-a \u021binut 6 luni cel pu\u021bin. De fapt, nu am putut s\u0103 zic \u201eam n\u0103scut”. Cezariana de urgen\u021b\u0103 a schimbat \u00een \u201ec\u00e2nd a venit ea”. Alte femei nasc, ea mi-a fost scoas\u0103. 18 ore de travaliu \u0219i n-am avut niciun merit. \u0218i multe luni n-am avut. \u201eSunt doar mam\u0103 acum. At\u00e2t.” Ce inutil\u0103 \u00eemi eram. Anxietate s\u0103 ies, anxietate s\u0103 stau \u00een cas\u0103, anxietate c\u0103 se va trezi iar \u0219i iar voi pl\u00e2nge de durere la al\u0103ptare. Anxietate c\u0103 nici azi n-am \u00eenceput s\u0103 o iubesc. A fost nevoie de o pandemie s\u0103 \u00eei cunosc pe am\u00e2ndoi str\u0103inii.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
All of the sudden there are two strangers in my house. One is tiny, cries, sleeps, cries. The second one looks at me in the mirror. Who am I more afraid of? How can I sense regret over something I wished for? \u201cCongratulations! Are you pregnant again?\u201d \u2013 a neighbor asked me while I was struggling with Eva, the stroller in the elevator and the anxiety of going out. Eva was two-months-old. \u201cNo, I just gave birth.\u201d I just gave birth \u2013 the feeling that stuck with me for over six months. Actually, I couldn\u2019t say that \u201cI gave birth\u201d. The emergency C-section changed that into \u201cwhen she came\u201d. Other women give birth, my baby was pulled out of me. 18 hours of labor and I had no merit. And many months I didn\u2019t. \u201cI\u2019m only a mother now. That\u2019s all.\u201d How useless I felt to myself. I was anxious about going out, anxious about staying inside, anxious that she would wake up again and I would cry in pain again while breastfeeding her. Anxious that not even today did I begin to love her. It took a pandemic to get to know both strangers. (Sima Niculescu)<\/p>\n
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Raluca \u0219i Rita<\/h2>\n
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\u0218tii cum e s\u0103 te ag\u0103\u021bi cu disperare de orice lucru bun din via\u021ba ta ca s\u0103 r\u0103m\u00e2i \u00eentreag\u0103 la minte?<\/p>\n
S\u0103 sim\u021bi cum \u00ee\u021bi fuge p\u0103m\u00e2ntul de sub picioare \u0219i tot ce \u00ee\u021bi dore\u0219ti este s\u0103 nu mai pl\u00e2ng\u0103 aproape continuu, s\u0103 nu mai urle sear\u0103 de sear\u0103, luni de zile, s\u0103 doarm\u0103 ca s\u0103 po\u021bi dormi \u0219i tu?<\/p>\n
\u0218i apoi s\u0103 sim\u021bi cum atacurile de panic\u0103 provocate de moartea tat\u0103lui t\u0103u se \u00eentrec \u00een intensitate \u0219i durere cu cele cauzate de lipsa crunt\u0103 de somn, de mintea ta care vrea pu\u021bin\u0103 lini\u0219te? Lini\u0219te ob\u021binut\u0103 de cele mai multe ori doar la finalul zilei, la du\u0219, cu u\u0219a \u00eenchis\u0103 \u0219i cu rugi c\u0103tre Cel de Sus ca, atunci c\u00e2nd ie\u0219i din baie, ea s\u0103 nu mai urle.<\/p>\n
\u0218i tot greul a fost amplificat de frustrarea c\u0103 sunt DOAR mam\u0103 \u0219i nu mi-a ie\u0219it s\u0103 fiu femeia pe care am pus mereu presiune pe mine s\u0103 fiu.<\/p>\n
Trei ani mai t\u00e2rziu \u0219i sunt un work in progress \u00een acest roller coaster de tr\u0103iri, emo\u021bii, frustr\u0103ri \u0219i reu\u0219ite.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
Do you know what it’s like to desperately cling on any good thing that’s happening in your life, in order to remain mentally stable?<\/p>\n
To feel like you’re losing ground and all you can wish for is for her to stop crying relentlessly, every single evening, for months, for her to sleep, so you can sleep, as well?<\/p>\n
And afterwards to feel how the panic attacks, caused by your father’s death, outrival the ones caused by the acute lack of sleep, in terms of pain and intensity, and by your mind, who craves for a tad of silence? A silence which is most often attained only at the end of the day, in the shower, with the door shut and praying to God that, when you leave the bathroom, she would stop crying.<\/p>\n
And all the heaviness was amplified by the frustration that I’m ONLY a mother, and not the woman whom I’ve always put pressure on myself to be.<\/p>\n
Three years later and I’m still a work in progress within this rollercoaster of feelings, emotions, frustrations and successes. (Raluca Harabagiu)<\/p>\n
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Ana \u0219i Lara-Amelie<\/h2>\n
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Sunt mama unei feti\u021be superbe, Lara-Amelie, care \u00eempline\u0219te 2 ani la sf\u00e2r\u0219it de octombrie. Am cel mai vesel copil, \u00een ciuda angoaselor pe care le-am tr\u0103it timp \u00eendelungat.<\/p>\n
Un an \u0219i jum\u0103tate nu am tr\u0103it, ci doar am SUPRAVIE\u021aUIT, din cauza depresiei dup\u0103 na\u0219tere. Am fost prizoniera vie\u021bii mele.<\/p>\n
C\u0103l\u0103toria maternit\u0103\u021bii nu a \u00eensemnat pentru mine nimic frumos, ci doar frici \u0219i temeri, mult\u0103 anxietate \u0219i presiune. Am schimbat mai mul\u021bi psihologi \u0219i psihiatri iar diagnosticul a fost de fiecare dat\u0103: anxietate generalizat\u0103 cu tulbur\u0103ri de somatizare. Am recurs doar la anxiolitice \u0219i am dus lupta interioar\u0103 cum am putut. Mi-a fost r\u0103u fizic, aproape zilnic.<\/p>\n
Acum, dup\u0103 timp, r\u0103bdare \u0219i psihoterapie, am reu\u0219it s\u0103 trec peste acest episod care mi-a furat bucuria maternit\u0103\u021bii.<\/p>\n
Abia acum \u00ceMI V\u0102D, \u00ceMI AUD, \u0219i \u00ceMI SIMT copilul! A\u0219a cum ar fi trebuit s\u0103 fie de la bun \u00eenceput!<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I’m the mother of a gorgeous little girl, Lara-Amelie, who will be 2-years-old at the end of October. She is the happiest child, despite the angst that I experienced for a long time.<\/p>\n
For a year and a half I didn’t live, I only SURVIVED because of the Postpartum Depression. I was the prisoner of my own life.<\/p>\n
My motherhood journey didn’t mean for me anything beautiful, but fears, lots of anxiety and pressure. I changed many psychologists and psychiatrists, while the diagnosis always remained the same: Generalized Anxiety with Somatic Disorder. I only took anxiolytics, and fought with my inner struggles as much as I could. I felt physically ill, almost daily.<\/p>\n
Now, after some time, patience and psychotherapy, I managed to get over this episode, which stole the joy of motherhood.<\/p>\n
Only now can I SEE, HEAR and FEEL my child! Like it should have been ever since the beginning! (Ana Barbu)<\/p>\n
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EMMA \u0218I IDRIS<\/h2>\n
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Via\u021ba bate filmul \u0219i pentru c\u0103, spre deosebire de lungmetraje, aici chiar te love\u0219te neprev\u0103zutul. Nu \u0219tiu s\u0103 fi v\u0103zut vreun scenariu \u00een care s\u0103 joc rolul femeii care la 33 de ani se ghemuie\u0219te la pieptul mamei sale, de fric\u0103. Dar asta am f\u0103cut! Depresia postpartum este un proces amplu, hormonal, care \u00een anumite cazuri poate duce la o deraiere complet\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\nPentru mine a \u00eensemnat demararea unei perioade de insomnie, anxiet\u0103\u021bi, atacuri de panic\u0103 \u0219i halucina\u021bii! Nu mai \u00eendr\u0103zneam s\u0103 povestesc nici celor de l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine c\u0103 NU eram bine, p\u0103rea c\u0103 m\u0103 r\u0103sf\u0103\u021b. Ru\u0219ine. Asta sim\u021beam.<\/span><\/p>\nEu nu mai eram Eu, iar asta m-a \u00eencurcat teribil o perioad\u0103. \u00cen acele zile, m-au b\u00e2ntuit, ca dou\u0103 stafii obraznice, dou\u0103 g\u00e2nduri: <\/span>c<\/span>\u0103 o s\u0103 \u00eennebunesc sau c\u0103 o s\u0103 mor…<\/span><\/p>\nCel mai r\u0103u era c\u00e2nd, din senin, aveam furnic\u0103turi din cap p\u00e2n\u0103 la t\u0103lpile picioarelor, ca \u0219i cum se preg\u0103teau s\u0103-mi evadeze celulele din trupul care \u0219i-a\u0219a se ref\u0103cea dup\u0103 cezarian\u0103. Am \u00een\u021beles ulterior, cu ajutor din exterior, c\u0103 reac\u021biile sunt fire\u0219ti atunci c\u00e2nd te \u201e\u00eembr\u0103\u021bi\u0219eaz\u0103\u201d anxietatea \u0219i atacurile de panic\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\n\u00cen tot haosul, mi-am adorat copilul \u0219i nici m\u0103car o secund\u0103 nu am \u00eentors spre el furtuna din interior. Ce vin\u0103 avea el, un pui de om cu m\u00e2nu\u021be mici ridicate spre mine?<\/span><\/p>\nDar cine eram eu \u0219i care era pilda acelor zile? Cea mai bun\u0103 decizie din via\u021ba mea a fost s\u0103 apelez la un psiholog. La dou\u0103 s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2ni de la na\u0219tere am \u00eenceput terapia. <\/span><\/p>\nNu \u0219tiu dac\u0103 a fost devreme sau t\u00e2rziu, dar a fost salvarea mea!<\/span><\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
Real life is stranger than fiction because, unlike feature films, here, the unforeseeable strikes you. I <\/span>hadn\u2019t seen any scenario where I would play the role of a woman who, at 33-years-old, cuddles at her mother\u2019s chest in fear. But that\u2019s what I did! Postpartum depression is an ample, hormonal process which, in some cases, can lead to complete derailment. <\/span><\/p>\nFor me, it meant the beginning of a period of insomnia, anxieties, panic attacks and hallucinations! I wouldn\u2019t dare to talk not even to the ones close to me that I was NOT ok, it seemed as if I was spoiled. Shame. That\u2019s what I felt.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t myself anymore, and that graveled me terribly for a while. Those days, like two naughty ghosts, two thoughts would haunt me: either that I would go crazy, or that I would die\u2026<\/p>\n
The worst was when, all of the sudden, I felt tingles from head to toe, as if they my cells were preparing to escape from a body that was already recovering after the C-section. With outer help, later, I understood that the reactions were considered to be normal when the anxiety and the panic attacks \u201cembrace\u201d you.<\/p>\n
Within all the chaos, I adored my baby and not even for a second did I turn the storm I had inside towards him. What was his fault, a baby human with tiny hands, lifted towards me?<\/p>\n
But who was I and what was I learning those days? The best decision of my life was to get help from a psychologist. Two weeks after giving birth I began therapy.<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t tell if it was early or late, but it was my release! (Emma Zeicescu)<\/p>\n
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ROXANA \u0218I IUSTIN<\/h2>\n
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Vinov\u0103\u021bie c\u0103 nu-l al\u0103ptez exclusiv, c\u0103 nu-s ca mama \u201ewarrior\u201d <\/span>de pe Facebook, c<\/span>\u0103 nu sunt ca influenceri\u021bele \u0219i nu pot po<\/span>s<\/span>ta la 8 a.m. o poz\u0103 cu mine cu abdomenul plat \u0219i bebe de 1 lun\u0103 l\u00e2ng\u0103 mine. \u0218i mai ales senza\u021bia asurzitoare c\u0103 e nevoie, c\u0103 trebuie s\u0103-mi reiau ritmul, munca, rolurile din momentul \u00een care copilul a ie\u0219it din spital. Mai ales \u00een meseria mea de actri\u021b\u0103, a avea un copil = a te plafona, a te opri din drive-ul creativ \u0219i profesional.<\/span><\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
Guilt that I am not breastfeeding him exclusively, that I\u2019<\/span>m not the \u201cwarrior\u201d mom from Facebook, that I\u2019m not like the influencers and I cannot share a photo with me, my flat abs and my one-month-old baby at 8 a.m. And most of all, the overwhelming sensation that it\u2019s necessary, that I have to go back to my rhythm, my work, my roles as soon as the baby left the hospital. Especially in my job as an actress, having a baby = to limit oneself, to put the creative and professional drive on hold. (Roxana Lupu)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Ana-Maria \u0219i Ava<\/h2>\n
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Cred c\u0103 totul a \u00eenceput la na\u0219tere. A fost foarte greu \u0219i am fost singur\u0103 acolo, \u00eenconjurat\u0103 de ni\u0219te necunoscu\u021bi lipsi\u021bi de empatie \u0219i cu suflet rece.<\/p>\n
Dar de c\u00e2nd am str\u00e2ns-o prima dat\u0103 \u00een bra\u021be am uitat de mine. Au fost c\u00e2teva s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2ni dup\u0103 ce am ajuns acas\u0103 c\u00e2nd nu reu\u0219eam s\u0103 dorm deloc noaptea. St\u0103team \u0219i o priveam \u0219i \u00eemi era team\u0103 s\u0103 adorm de fric\u0103 s\u0103 nu p\u0103\u021beasc\u0103 ceva \u00een timpul acesta. Fel de fel de g\u00e2nduri \u00eemi \u00eemp\u00e2nzeau mintea, st\u0103ri de anxietate, frica c\u0103 nu sunt o mam\u0103 suficient de bun\u0103, pur \u0219i simplu nu \u00eemi mai g\u0103seam lini\u0219tea \u0219i locul. Anxietatea ap\u0103rea mai tot timpul, c\u00e2nd primeam vizite, c\u00e2nd \u00eei d\u0103deam s\u0103 m\u0103n\u00e2nce, c\u00e2nd r\u0103m\u00e2neam singur\u0103 acas\u0103 cu ea, dar cel mai mult c\u00e2nd se l\u0103sa noaptea. M\u0103 sim\u021beam epuizat\u0103 at\u00e2t fizic c\u00e2t \u0219i mental.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I believe everything began once I gave birth. It was really difficult and I was alone there, surrounded by unempathic strangers with a cold soul.<\/p>\n
But since I first held her in my arms, I forgot myself. For a few weeks after I arrived home, I couldn\u2019t fall asleep at night. I would stay and watch her, afraid to fall asleep in case something would happen to her during that time. All sorts of thought<\/span>s, anxieties, the fear that I wasn\u2019t a good enough mother, would swarm my mind. I simply couldn\u2019t find my peace and place. The anxiety was there almost all the time, when we were visited by someone, when I fed her, when I was alone with her at home, but most of all, when the night came. I felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. (Ana-Maria Chitoran)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Andreea \u0219i Amelie<\/h2>\n
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Sunt Andreea \u0219i am o feti\u021b\u0103 grozav\u0103.<\/p>\n
Credeam despre mine c\u0103 sunt un om optimist \u0219i c\u0103 niciodat\u0103 nu voi putea s\u0103 m\u0103 \u201e\u00eemprietenesc\u201d cu depresia.<\/p>\n
De fapt nimeni nu a vrut s\u0103 cread\u0103 c\u0103 eu sunt \u00een depresie spun\u00e2nd mereu \u201etu nu ai cum s\u0103 fii \u00een depresie, Andreea, c\u0103 tu ai tot ce-\u021bi po\u021bi dori. <\/span>E<\/span>\u0219ti foarte bine, ai o familie frumoas\u0103 \u0219i un copil minunat\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\nLa 3 luni dup\u0103 na\u0219tere, din cauz\u0103 c\u0103 nu am primit suport \u0219i sus\u021binere, m-am trezit \u00een alt\u0103 via\u021b\u0103. Una \u00een care nici nu mai voiam s\u0103 tr\u0103iesc, una care m\u0103 epuiza \u0219i m\u0103 f\u0103cea s\u0103 m\u0103 simt neiubit\u0103, neajutorat\u0103 \u0219i neimportant\u0103.<\/span><\/p>\nErau s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2ni c\u00e2nd nici de haine sau pijamale nu m\u0103 schimbam iar de comunicat cu cineva sau cu oricine nu eram \u00een stare.<\/p>\n
Depresia a fost cea mai nemiloas\u0103, dur\u0103 \u0219i dureroas\u0103 experien\u021b\u0103 din via\u021ba mea, care m-a \u00eenv\u0103\u021bat c\u0103 la greu nu-mi este nimeni al\u0103turi.
\nSingur\u0103 am mers la diver\u0219i terapeu\u021bi, analize medicale \u0219i m-am m<\/span>ir<\/span>at c\u0103 nimeni nu spunea nimic de depresie.<\/span><\/p>\nAbia acum, dup\u0103 2 ani de c\u0103ut\u0103ri, de \u00eencerc\u0103ri, de mers la terapie, de \u00eenghi\u021bit hormoni, am ajuns la liman, sau aproape de liman.<\/p>\n
Am \u00een prezent o terapeut\u0103, un om cu suflet at\u00e2t de cuprinz\u0103tor, care m\u0103 ajut\u0103 s\u0103 fiu acea mam\u0103 care am visat \u0219i cum \u00eemi doresc s\u0103 fiu pentru feti\u021ba mea \u2013 o mam\u0103 vie, con\u0219tient\u0103, iubitoare \u0219i cuprinz\u0103toare pentru cel mai minunat pui de om.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
My name is Andreea and I\u2019ve got an amazing little girl.<\/p>\n
I thought about myself that I was an optimistic person and that I could never \u201cbefriend\u201d depression.<\/p>\n
Actually, no one wanted to believe that I was suffering from depression, always telling me \u201cyou cannot be in depression, Andreea, as you\u2019ve got everything you want. You\u2019re very well, you have a beautiful family and a wonderful child\u201d.<\/p>\n
3 months after I gave birth, because of the lack of support, I woke up in another life. One where I didn\u2019t even want to live anymore, one that exhausted me and made me feel unloved, helpless and unimportant.<\/p>\n
There were weeks when I wouldn\u2019t even change my clothes or pyjamas, when I wasn\u2019t able to socialize with anyone. Depression was the most ruthless, the toughest and the most painful experience in my life, which taught me that no one is there for me when it gets hard.<\/p>\n
I went to various therapists by myself, I underwent various medical analysis and I was stunned that nobody would say anything about depression.
\nOnly now, after 2 years of searching, trials, going to therapy, swallowing hormones, I have reached haven, or at least I am close to it.<\/p>\n
I currently go to a therapist, a soulful human being so open-minded, who helps me be that mother that I dreamed to be and wish to be for my little girl \u2013 an alive, conscious, loving and caring mom for the most wonderful tiny child. <\/span>(Andreea Elena Craiu)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
M\u0103d\u0103lina \u0219i Sofia<\/h2>\n
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M\u0103 trezeam \u0219i m\u0103 \u00eentristam, iar zilele erau de cele mai multe ori o lupt\u0103 \u00eentre ra\u021bional \u0219i emo\u021biile depresiei postpartum. Nu \u00een\u021belegeam ce sim\u021beam \u0219i eram frustrat\u0103 c\u0103 nu puteam s\u0103 m\u0103 bucur pe deplin de \u00eenceputurile vie\u021bii \u00een trei. Din fericire, am un so\u021b minunat care mi-a fost cel mai mare sprijin, iar familia \u0219i prietenii mi-au fost al\u0103turi, a\u0219a cum s-a putut \u00een carantina de la \u00eenceputul pandemiei. Mi-am v\u0103rsat sentimentele oricui a vrut s\u0103 m\u0103 asculte \u0219i u\u0219or u\u0219or am ajuns s\u0103 z\u00e2mbesc cu adev\u0103rat.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I would wake up and become sad, and the days were most of the times a fight between the rational and the emotions of the Postpartum Depression. I didn’t understand what I was feeling and I was frustrated that I couldn’t\u00a0 fully enjoy the beginnings of our life as three. Happily, I’ve got a lovely husband who was my greatest support, while my family and friends were near me in a way they could be during the quarantine from the beginning of the pandemic. I spilled my feelings to anyone who wanted to listen to me and, step by step, I came to being able to truly smile. (M\u0103d\u0103lina Mircea)<\/p>\n
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RUCSANDRA \u0218I \u0218TEFAN<\/h2>\n
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Mi s-a spus c\u0103 copilul e bine. E bine, dar totu\u0219i ar trebui s\u0103 i se fac\u0103 o radiografie la creier, ca s\u0103 fim siguri c\u0103 e bine. C\u00e2nd m-am dus s\u0103 v\u0103d copilul era \u00een incubator. Era un mo\u0219ule\u021b cu pielea \u0219ifonat\u0103, avea ace \u0219i fire \u00eenfipte \u00een el. Mi s-a spus din nou c\u0103 copilul e bine. Dar imaginea lui contrazicea acest bine repetat obsesiv. Bine erau copiii rumeni\u021bi ca ni\u0219te p\u00e2inici din vitrina cu copii bine. Al meu nu era. Un copil nu st\u0103 \u00een incubator de bine ce-i e. Un nou n\u0103scut nu are branul\u0103 pentru c\u0103 e bine. <\/span><\/p>\nTreaba mea \u00een lunile de dup\u0103 na\u0219tere era s\u0103 produc lapte \u0219i g\u00e2nduri. Lapte alb. G\u00e2nduri negre. Sim\u021beam vinov\u0103\u021bie, \u00eengrijorare \u0219i neputin\u021b\u0103. Din cauza mea era copilul at\u00e2t de mic, eu f\u0103cusem ceva gre\u0219it \u0219i nici nu \u0219tiam cum s\u0103 fac s\u0103 fie mai bine. Nu \u0219tiam nici m\u0103car s\u0103-l al\u0103ptez. <\/span><\/p>\n\u0218i mai era ru\u0219inea. Ru\u0219inea c\u0103 ceilal\u021bi ar putea s\u0103 m\u0103 vad\u0103 a\u0219a cum sunt. O mam\u0103 neputincioas\u0103. O mam\u0103 gre\u0219it\u0103. O mam\u0103 care se teme s\u0103-i fac\u0103 baie copilului, o mam\u0103 care nu poate s\u0103-l fac\u0103 s\u0103 creasc\u0103 at\u00e2t de repede c\u00e2t ar trebui. O mam\u0103 rebut. Ru\u0219inea c\u0103 am f\u0103cut un copil care e aproape bine. Bine \u00een felul lui. \u0218i frica, c\u0103 n-o s\u0103 creasc\u0103, c\u0103 n-o s\u0103 fie bine. Frica pe care o au toate mamele \u0219i cu care nu \u0219tiu nici acum cum supravie\u021buim.<\/span><\/p>\n Scriu textul \u0103sta pentru c\u0103 nu mai pot s\u0103 tr\u0103iesc b\u00e2ntuit\u0103 de mama jalnic\u0103 care m-am crezut \u00een primele luni de via\u021b\u0103 ale copilului. Vreau s\u0103 m\u0103 eliberez. Nici eu, nici fiul meu nu ne permitem ca eu s\u0103 fiu mam\u0103 paralizat\u0103 de fric\u0103. O mam\u0103 cople\u0219it\u0103 de depresie, de vinov\u0103\u021bie \u0219i ru\u0219ine. \u0218i nu merit\u0103m. \u00cen ultimele luni, am \u00eenv\u0103\u021bat s\u0103 am compasiune pentru mine cea de atunci. Acum pot s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00een\u021beleg \u0219i s\u0103 m\u0103 iert pentru tot ce cred c\u0103 am gre\u0219it.<\/span><\/p>\n—<\/p>\n
I was told that the baby was fine. He\u2019s fine, <\/span>yet a brain radiography is needed, to make sure he\u2019s fine. When I went to see the baby, he was in the incubator. He was a tiny old man with rumpled skin, needles and threads embedded inside him. I was again told that the baby was fine. But his image would contradict this \u201cfine\u201d repeated obsessively. Fine were the sanguine babies, like little breads, from the window with fine babies. Mine wasn\u2019t. A baby doesn\u2019t stay in the incubator because he feels fine. A newborn doesn\u2019t wear a butterfly needle because he\u2019s fine.<\/span><\/p>\nMy job during the months after giving birth was to produce milk and thoughts. White milk. Black thoughts. I felt guilt, worry and helplessness. The baby was so tiny because of me, I had done something wrong and I didn\u2019t even know how to make it better. I didn\u2019t even know how to breastfeed him.<\/p>\n
And then there was the shame. The shame that the others might see me the way I am. An incapable mother. A wrong mother. A mother who\u2019s afraid to bathe the baby, a mother who cannot make him grow as fast as it should be. A waste mother. The shame that I had given birth to a baby who\u2019s almost fine. Fine in his own way. And the fear, that he won\u2019t grow, that he won\u2019t be alright. The fear that all mothers have and that not even now do I know how we survive with.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m writing these words because I cannot live anymore haunted by the lame mother I thought I was during my baby\u2019s first months of life. I want to release myself. Neither I, nor my son afford the fact that I\u2019m a mother paralyzed with fear. A mother who is overwhelmed with depression, guilt and shame. And we don\u2019t deserve this. In the last months, I\u2019ve learnt to have compassion towards myself from back then. Now I can understand and forgive myself for everything I thought I did wrong. (Rucsandra Pop)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Felicia \u0219i Aurora<\/h2>\n
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La dou\u0103 luni dup\u0103 ce am n\u0103scut-o pe Aurora, am fost diagnosticat\u0103 cu depresie postpartum cu elemente psihotice. Pe parcursul a doi ani, am consultat opt medici psihiatri, am fost spitalizat\u0103 de trei ori, am \u00eencercat nou\u0103 tratamente psihofarmacologice \u0219i am c\u0103l\u0103torit p\u00e2n\u0103 la Oxford \u0219i Madrid pentru a-mi pune speran\u021bele \u00eentr-un tratament experimental pentru depresie. Sunt Felicia \u0219i feti\u021ba mea m-a numit pentru prima oar\u0103 \u201emami” atunci c\u00e2nd avea 2 ani \u0219i 2 luni.<\/p>\n
Depresia postpartum a fost cea care a dat cu mine de p\u0103m\u00e2nt \u0219i mi-a testat toate limitele, care m-a f\u0103cut s\u0103 vreau s\u0103 chem Salvarea de n ori, s\u0103-mi chestionez propria judecat\u0103, s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eendoiesc de toate g\u00e2ndurile, s\u0103-mi doresc s\u0103 fiu altceva, sau altcineva, oricine altcineva \u2013 flor\u0103reasa din cartier, cer\u0219etorul de la col\u021bul str\u0103zii, doamna aceea cu cump\u0103r\u0103turile la subra\u021b \u2013 sau s\u0103 nu mai fiu deloc.<\/p>\n
Am vrut s\u0103 fiu acea mami. Mami cu M mare. Mami care \u0219tie de toate, poate de toate, sufer\u0103 de toate. Mami care se uit\u0103 pe sine, mami-f\u0103r\u0103-de-sine. Mami din reclame, mami din pove\u0219ti, mami de pe Instagram.<\/p>\n
\u0218i a venit via\u021ba \u0219i m-a f\u0103cut at\u00e2t de mic\u0103.<\/p>\n
Au fost d\u0103\u021bi, \u0219i nu pu\u021bine, c\u00e2nd am crezut c\u0103, dac\u0103 nu m\u0103 concentrez suficient de tare \u0219i nu m\u0103 \u021bin suficient de bine, pierd contactul cu realitatea. Num\u0103ram obiecte de culoarea verde, atingeam cu podul palmei pere\u021bii casei, citeam Mary Poppins cu voce tare, dansam C\u0103lu\u0219ul cu toat\u0103 fiin\u021ba mea, numai s\u0103 nu ies din concret.<\/p>\n
La doi ani \u0219i dou\u0103 luni de la declan\u0219area depresiei suntem aici. Sunt mami cu m mic \u0219i asta m\u0103 face fericit\u0103. Aurora a crescut; vocabularul ei se l\u0103rge\u0219te pe zi ce trece, iar buclele se \u00eendesesc c\u00e2t vezi cu ochii. Acum privesc deta\u0219at propria-mi poveste, ca \u0219i c\u00e2nd a tr\u0103it-o altcineva, nu eu \u2013 poate flor\u0103reasa din cartier, cer\u0219etorul de la col\u021bul str\u0103zii, sau doamna aceea cu cump\u0103r\u0103turile la subra\u021b…<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
Two months after I gave birth to Aurora, I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression with Psychotic Elements. Along two years, I saw eight psychiatrists, I was hospitalized three times, I tried nine psychiatric treatments and I traveled to Oxford and Madrid to put my hopes in an experimental treatment for depression. My name is Felicia and my daughter called me “mommy” for the first time when she was 2 years and 2 months old.<\/p>\n
The Postpartum Depression was the one to smash me to the ground and test all my limits, the one that made me want to call 911 many times, to question my own judgement, to doubt all my thoughts, to wish to be something else, or someone else, anyone else \u2013 the florist from the neighborhood, the beggar at the corner of the street, that lady with the shopping bags under her arms, absolutely anyone \u2013 or to not exist at all.<\/p>\n
I wanted to be that<\/em> mommy. Mommy with capital “M”. Mommy who knows everything, can do anything, suffers everything. Mommy who forgets about herself, mommy-without-a-self. Mommy from the commercials, mommy from tales, Instagram mommy.<\/p>\nAnd life came and made me feel so small.<\/p>\n
There were many times when I thought that, if I didn’t focus enough and didn’t keep myself steady enough, I would lose the contact with reality. I would count green objects, touch walls with the hollow of my hand, read Mary Poppins aloud, dance C\u0103lu\u0219ul\u00a0<\/em>with all my being, anything in order to remain in the concrete.<\/p>\nTwo years and two months away from the break of my depression, we are here. I’m mommy with small “m”, and that makes me happy. Aurora has grown up; her vocabulary expands day by day, and her curls are thickening as far as the eye can see. Now I can look at my own story with detachment, as if someone else lived through it, not me \u2013 perhaps the florist from the neighbourhood, the beggar at the corner of the street, or that lady with the shopping bags under her arms… (Felicia Simion)<\/p>\n
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LAVINIA \u0218I LUNA<\/h2>\n
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\u00cen doar c\u00e2teva luni de la na\u0219tere, mi-am pierdut vocea, nu mai puteam s\u0103 m\u0103 concentrez la activit\u0103\u021bi de zi cu zi \u0219i nu mai puteam dormi. Sim\u021beam c\u0103 toat\u0103 ziua mi-o petreceam al\u0103pt\u00e2nd; era at\u00e2t de nefiresc acest nou rol pentru mine! De la o carier\u0103 de cercet\u0103tor, preocupat\u0103 s\u0103 descop\u0103r lucruri noi despre lumea \u00eenconjur\u0103toare \u00een fiecare zi, la a sta pe loc, ore \u00eentregi, \u0219i a \u021bine un bebelu\u0219 la s\u00e2n ca s\u0103 sug\u0103 \u00eentruna. So\u021bul meu s-a implicat s\u0103 m\u0103 ajute cum a putut, dar eu eram, pur \u0219i simplu, \u00een filmul meu…<\/p>\n
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Eram terorizat\u0103 de g\u00e2ndul c\u0103 dac\u0103 nu am aten\u021bia \u00een permanen\u021b\u0103 la feti\u021b\u0103, ea o s\u0103 moar\u0103! Acest g\u00e2nd nu era \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103tor; bunica mea matern\u0103 a pierdut un bebelu\u0219 din cauza sindromului de moarte subit\u0103. \u00cen oglind\u0103 observam cum \u00eemi pierd culoarea, p\u0103rul \u00eemi c\u0103dea \u0219i ar\u0103tam ve\u0219nic trist\u0103, cu cearc\u0103ne mari \u0219i ochii obosi\u021bi. Am realizat c\u0103 \u00een a da na\u0219tere acestei feti\u021be minunate, mi-am pus toat\u0103 energia, \u00eentreg spiritul \u0219i ce aveam eu mai bun… \u0219i acum m\u0103 sim\u021beam goal\u0103, sim\u021beam c\u0103 nu mai p\u0103strasem nimic pentru mine.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
—<\/p>\n
Within just a few months after giving birth, I lost my voice, I couldn’t focus on daily activities and I couldn’t sleep. I felt like I was spending my whole day breastfeeding; this new role was so uncanny to me! From a researcher career, concentrated on discovering new things about the world every day, to sitting in once place for hours, and holding a baby at my chest for her to keep sucking. My husband got involved as much as he could, but I was, literally, in my own movie…<\/p>\n
I felt terrorized by the thought that if my attention wasn’t fully orientated towards my baby girl, she would die! This thought wasn’t by chance; my maternal grandmother lost a baby because of the sudden death syndrome. In the mirror I would notice how I was losing my color, my hair was falling and I always looked sad, with dark circles around my tired eyes. I realized that, by giving birth to this amazing little girl, I had put my whole energy, my whole spirit and what I had best… and now I felt empty, I felt that I hadn’t kept anything for myself. (Lavinia Udrea)<\/p>\n
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Cristina \u0219i Ioana<\/h2>\n
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Sunt Cristina.<\/p>\n
Acum 1 an \u0219i jum\u0103tate am ajuns acas\u0103 de la maternitate cu Ioana, feti\u021ba mea. Acum 1 an \u0219i jum\u0103tate am \u00eenceput s\u0103 v\u0103d o umbr\u0103 din ceea ce era so\u021bul meu \u0219i o umbr\u0103 din ceea ce eram eu. Eu eram un munte de furie \u0219i el era un munte de triste\u021be, mun\u021bi ce aveau \u00eentre ei o vale plin\u0103 de fericire, plin\u0103 de Ioana. Fericire pe care ne doream s\u0103 o sim\u021bim, ne doream s\u0103 o tr\u0103im, dar nu puteam. Eu eram din ce \u00een ce mai furioas\u0103 \u0219i mai violent\u0103, so\u021bul meu era din ce \u00een ce mai distant \u0219i mai trist. Eu sp\u0103rgeam tablouri de pe pere\u021bi, el se \u00eengropa \u00een t\u0103cere.<\/p>\n
Am \u021binut-o a\u0219a 6 luni, p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd am zis c\u0103 trebuie s\u0103 schimb\u0103m ceva. Am fost la psihiatru. Eu am fost diagnosticat\u0103 cu Tulburare de adaptare cu simptome anxioase \u0219i depresie, el cu Depresie. Am\u00e2ndoi am \u00eenceput terapia, el \u00eempreu\u0103 cu tratament medicamentos, eu refuz\u00e2ndu-l pentru c\u0103 \u00eemi doream foarte tare s\u0103 continui s\u0103 al\u0103ptez.<\/p>\n
\u0218i am al\u0103ptat… \u0219i \u00een tot timpul acesta el \u00eenceput s\u0103 fie mai bine, eu am \u00eenceput s\u0103 fiu mai r\u0103u. At\u00e2t de r\u0103u \u00eenc\u00e2t \u00eentr-o zi a fost necesare s\u0103 plece de la serviciu ca s\u0103 vin\u0103 s\u0103 m\u0103 ridice de pe gresia din buc\u0103t\u0103rie. Nu reu\u0219eam s\u0103 m\u0103 opresc din pl\u00e2ns, nu reu\u0219eam s\u0103 am grij\u0103 de Ioana. Atunci am hot\u0103r\u00e2t s\u0103 o \u00een\u021barc pe Ioana \u0219i s\u0103 \u00eencep tratamentul. Din prima s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 totul a fost mult mai bine.<\/p>\n
\u00cen tot timul acesta so\u021bul meu mi-a fost c\u0103ma\u0219\u0103 de for\u021b\u0103 \u0219i eu i-am fost comediant, air Ioana ne-a fost motiva\u021bie. Am fost unul pentru altul. Am fost singuri, doar noi trei. Unii nu au \u00een\u021beles, unii nu au acceptat, unii s-au evaporat, al\u021bii au renun\u021bat, unii ne-au judecat. Noi am stat, am r\u0103mas unul pentru altul, iar acum, \u00een zilele mai pu\u021bin bine, \u0219tim ce avem de f\u0103cut.<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n
I am Cristina.<\/p>\n
A year and a half ago I came back from maternity with Ioana, my daughter. A year and a half ago I began to see a shadow of what my husband used to be and a shadow of what I was. I was a mountain of anger and he was a mountain of sadness, mountains that had between them a valley full of joy, full of Ioana. Joy that we wished to feel, we wished to live, but we couldn\u2019t. I was more and more furious and more and more violent, my husband was more and more distant and more and more woeful. I was breaking pictures on the walls, he would bury himself in silence.<\/p>\n
We went on like this for 6 months, until we decided we had to change something. We went to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with Adjustment disorder with anxiety and depression symptoms, him, with Depression. We both began therapy, him with medical treatment, while I refused it, as I wanted so badly to keep breastfeeding.<\/p>\n
And I did\u2026 and all this time he started to feel better, while I was feeling worse. So bad that one day he had to leave job to come pick me up from the kitchen floor. I couldn\u2019t stop crying, I couldn\u2019t take care of Ioana. Then I decided to stop breastfeeding and begin treatment. From the very first week everything was much better.<\/p>\n
During all this time my husband was a straightjacket to me, while I was his comediant and Ioana was our motivation. We were for each other. We were alone, just the three of us. Some didn\u2019t understand, some didn\u2019t accept, some vanished, some gave up, some judged us. We stayed, we remained for each other, and now, in the less fine days, we know what we have to do. (Cristina Matei)<\/p>\n
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Andra \u0219i Vladimir<\/h2>\n
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Simt \u0219i acum frica pe care am avut-o atunci c\u00e2nd l-am adus pe Vladimir acas\u0103. Prima noapte a fost cea mai grea. \u0218i de atunci au \u00eenceput toate temerile p\u0103m\u00e2ntului \u0219i toate schimb\u0103rile \u00een mine, lucruri despre care nu \u0219tiam c\u0103 exist\u0103 \u0219i c\u0103 le pot sim\u021bi.<\/span><\/p>\nMi s-au amplificat cumva toate sim\u021burile \u0219i toate fricile. Apoi au venit nelini\u0219tile, presiunile celor din jur. \u0218i m\u0103 durea faptul c\u0103 sim\u021beam cum to\u021bi m\u0103 judec\u0103 pentru faptul c\u0103 nu am vrut s\u0103 ies deloc, c\u0103 nu am vrut s\u0103-mi vad\u0103 nimeni copilul pentru c\u0103 el era doar al meu \u0219i-al tat\u0103lui lui.<\/span><\/p>\nAm pl\u00e2ns c\u00e2t pentru o via\u021b\u0103 \u00eentreag\u0103. El adormea, eu pl\u00e2ngeam. St\u0103team lipit\u0103 de el constant, nu puteam pleca prea departe. \u0218i nu \u0219tiam ce s\u0103 fac, cum s\u0103 \u00eel distrez, cum s\u0103 \u00eel \u00eempac, cum s\u0103 m\u0103 joc, cum s\u0103 am grij\u0103 \u0219i de mine, cum s\u0103 fac de m\u00e2ncare, cum s\u0103 fie curat \u00een cas\u0103. Nu mai \u0219tiam nimic.<\/span><\/p>\nAu fost momente \u00een care am crezut c\u0103 sunt nebun\u0103, momente \u00een care \u021bipam \u00een mine s\u0103 nu m\u0103 aud\u0103 nimeni, c\u00e2nd fugeam \u00een baie doar ca s\u0103 pl\u00e2ng, c\u00e2nd eram at\u00e2t de nervoas\u0103 \u00eenc\u00e2t puteam s\u0103 distrug orice. \u0218i alte momente c\u00e2nd am vrut s\u0103 plec de acas\u0103, c\u00e2nd \u00eemi f\u0103ceam r\u0103u fizic \u0219i c\u00e2nd m\u0103 pedepseam c\u0103 nu sunt o mam\u0103 bun\u0103. <\/span><\/p>\nTimpul a trecut. Sunt doi ani de c\u00e2nd am devenit mam\u0103. Mi-am mai revenit, m-am mai acceptat. Dar \u0219tiu c\u0103 nu a\u0219 fi fost mai bine, ast\u0103zi, dac\u0103 nu l-a\u0219 fi avut aproape pe so\u021bul meu, omul cel mai puternic \u0219i \u00een\u021beleg\u0103tor. M\u0103 vindec.<\/span><\/p>\n—<\/span><\/p>\n
\nEven now I can feel the fear I had when we brought Vladimir home. The first night was the toughest. And that<\/span>\u2019s when all the fears and changes in the world began inside me, things I didn\u2019t know they existed and that I could feel.<\/span><\/p>\nSomehow, all my senses and all my dreads amplified. Afterwards came the worries, the pressures from the ones around me. And it hurt to feel that everyone was judging me because I didn\u2019t want to get out at all, that I didn\u2019t want anyone to see my baby because he was only mine and his father\u2019s.<\/span><\/p>\nI cried for a whole lifetime. He would fall asleep, I would cry. I was constantly glued to him, I couldn\u2019t leave far. And I didn\u2019t know what to do, how to distract him, how to soothe him, how to play, how to take care of myself too, how to cook, how to clean the house. I didn\u2019t know anything.<\/span><\/p>\nThere were times when I thought I was going crazy, moments when I would yell inside myself, so that no one could hear me, when I would run to the bathroom only to cry, when I was so angry that I could destroy anything. And there were other moments when I wanted to leave home, when I would physically hurt and punish myself for not being a good mother.<\/span><\/p>\nTime passed by. It\u2019s two years since I became a mother. I feel better now, I have accepted myself somehow. But I know I wouldn\u2019t be better today hadn\u2019t I had my husband next to me, the strongest and most understanding man. I\u2019m healing. (Andra Grigorescu)<\/span><\/p>\n[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
Mul\u021bumiri speciale Alexandrei Tomescu pentru g\u0103zduirea proiectului.<\/p>\n
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Partener media:<\/p>\n
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[vc_row][vc_column][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] Lavinica \u0219i Allegra [\/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”1283″ img_size=”full” alignment=”center”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] Sunt mam\u0103 \u0219i nu am mai dormit de patru luni. Mai bine de dou\u0103zeci de ore din dou\u0103zeci \u0219i patru tr\u0103iesc \u00eentr-un pat. \u00cent\u0103resc perna \u00een form\u0103 de \u201eU\u201d cu o alta rotund\u0103 la spate, iar sub bra\u021bul pe care \u021bin copilul pun una dintre pernele mici […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1110","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1110","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1110"}],"version-history":[{"count":153,"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1110\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1140,"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1110\/revisions\/1140"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feliciasimionphotography.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1110"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}