23 | Samaj #3
“When we found out your dad didn’t panic.
He went into problem solving mode. He was so supportive and so positive he even seemed happy.
And we were so young Samaj. Barely making it.
But even then, I knew he would be a good father.
He was the best.” Her eyes glossed over as she shifted in her seat. My dad rubbed her hand to comfort her.
“After I had you, something changed. I didn’t have the language for it back then, but I now know it was postpartum depression.
I was sad all the time. Your dad was also in school full-time, and working long hours trying to provide so I spent a lot of time alone.
We had no one. His older brother had been in prison for years and his grandmother was really sick all of the time and had to go into a nursing home in his senior year of Highschool.
I was drowning in my thoughts and emotions, but I tried to be strong because I didn’t want to add more to your dad’s plate.
” She shook her head. “Your dad knew me so well, he could sense I wasn’t myself, so one day he brought me to a place that I loved.
He drove me to the library so I could get a library card and check out some books.
It didn’t solve my problem, but it helped to some extent. ”
My mom’s love for books was evident growing up. From the dedicated library in our home, the books she kept in our bedrooms to her reading us bedtime stories every night until we were old enough to read on our own.
“Reading again and getting out of the house became a small escape for me. Something to look forward to. Every Saturday before he had to go to work, he would take me there and one weekend there was a Community Healthcare event taking place and I felt led to go. That’s where I met Mia or as you know Simone’s mom. ”
Her voice softened. “She was pregnant at the time with Simone, but was there volunteering, moving around helping anyone she could with the biggest smile on her face. She introduced me to GiGi and they helped me, supported me, and taught me how to care for you and myself.”
“When Shiloh died…” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop. “I broke. And instead of grieving, I numbed it. I convinced myself I could handle it on my own.” She looked down at her hands, then back at me.
“I couldn’t.” The room felt heavy, but it wasn’t suffocating. It felt honest.
“I hurt you both,” she continued. “I wasn’t there when you needed me. I was sinking so deep into my depression and battling my demons from my past that I couldn’t even be a mother or wife and I’m so sorry.”
I let out a deep breath. “I used to be so angry and hurt,” I admitted quietly. “I felt like I lost my brother… and then I lost my mom too.”
Tears slid down her face. “I know. And I hate that it took almost losing everything to finally seek help. Your dad tried to help me several times, and I really wanted to, but I could never trust the process. I wanted a quick fix, so every time I would try, but when it got too hard I’d give up and go back to my own ways of coping. ”
She reached across the table and took my hand.
“I’ve been dealing with bipolar disorder since I was a teen,” she continued “I didn’t know until after you were born.
I only found out later…but I stopped taking my medication after Shiloh passed.
They think that’s part of what led me to spiral…
and the suicide attempt.” That huge revelation was a lot to process.
I didn’t know much about bipolar disorder, but I was definitely going to do my research and find out how I could best support her. I nodded my head so she could continue.
“I’m not fixed. I’m still recovering. But I’m sober now.
I’m in therapy. I’m taking my medication regularly.
I’m even praying more and reading my bible.
In therapy I finally faced everything from my past. I want to share that with you.
I never wanted to speak on it because, on one hand I wanted to pretend none of it happened and then on the other hand I was scared that you would look at me differently—that you wouldn’t be able to love someone so broken. ”
My dad stood up and went to the cart they had by the door and grabbed her some tissue paper.
“Mom, no matter what you tell me it could never change how I see you or how much I love you.”
She nodded.
“Dad told me something a while back.” I said looking over at him then back to her. “He said you’re one of the strongest people he knows, and I agree with him.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I want… I want to rebuild whatever you’re willing to give me.”
I stared at our joined hands, thinking about all the years I’d hardened my heart just to survive.
“I can’t promise everything will be easy,” I said honestly. “But I’m here and I’m willing to do the work.”
“We both are.” My dad chimed in.
She smiled through her tears, and my dad let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years.
We didn’t solve everything that morning. We didn’t magically become the perfect family again. But for the first time since Shiloh passed, it felt like we were finally walking toward healing instead of away from it.
Simone had been a part of our story long before I ever knew her name and after today, I was praying that I would be able to have her back in my life permanently.