Something has happened that I didn’t see coming.
And yet it makes perfect sense.
I’ve said before that I have a hard time looking at photos of myself from dark periods of my life.
Turns out I have a hard time looking at clothes from dark periods of my life as well.
Specifically, in this case, baby clothes.
I am coming to realize just how bad my postpartum depression was with Addie. I don’t remember truly enjoying a single moment of her babyhood until she hit about 7 months.
I kept telling myself that the reason I didn’t like putting Addie’s old clothes on Vivi was because they were the wrong season (Addie being a December baby and Vivi being a May baby, not to mention they both have very different spirits about them.)
But as I went through Vivi’s drawers today I picked up a onesie that I distinctly remember Addie wearing. And I distinctly remember feeling very, very absent when she wore it.
I held it in my hands.
It was just a shirt.
I looked back to Vivi’s drawer and saw other clothes that belonged to Addie during those first seven months. They brought back a feeling I can only describe as a very heavy rock on my heart. I took out the outfits that belonged to Addie and rearranged the drawer so only Vivi’s clothes were showing.
I felt better.
When Addie’s clothes were gone the drawer became the me I am now. New. Recovered. Restored.
Being somewhat sure that I was only imagining things I went into the closet where some little dresses hang that Addie never actually wore. They stayed on their hangers until she was too big for them and they were packed away in hopes that another little girl would someday occupy them.
They didn’t give me the same feelings as the clothes she did wear.
And towards the back of the closet hang Addie’s bigger clothes…9 months on.
They do not stir up the same emotions from me as the tiny clothes do.
I am experiencing a lot of what I believe would be considered guilt over Addie’s babyhood. She was well cared for and very well loved. I have evidence that this was so, I just don’t remember being the one doing it.
I never want her to think I loved her any less than her sister. Because I don’t, the feelings involved are just so very different and working through them has been confusing at times.
Addie is my heart.
Vivi is my soul.
And I could never live without either.