Author: Heather Anne
I was depressed. I was in a dark place. I was holding this beautiful baby in my arms and I felt like the farthest thing from beautiful. I undressed at night and stared in the mirror at a reflection of a body that I didn’t know. I touched my skin and traced lines that had appeared overnight and led to places that hadn’t been there before. And I felt lost, and confused, and a little angry, because this body wasn’t mine. This wasn’t me. But here’s the thing. It was. And I needed to accept it. I needed to stop hating my body because it was making me hate myself. And that needed to stop.