Mourning a postnatal depression

By Adeline Dechaud

I am a mother.

I am a mother of a few babies, and I hate them.

I don’t think I ever loved them and I think it’s sad.

I feel no pain when people hurt them and I feel quite relieved when some have the courage to kill them.

Until last Friday.

Last Friday, all my babies got killed.

All of them.

10 weeks before the final year ballet. 

Where all your babies are supposed to dance in front of The Big Crowd.

Making you proud and showing off how good of a parent you are.

And I felt sad.

I felt sad because I realised none of my babies were ever good enough to dance the final show.

I realised how much I got attached to babies I hated and how satisfied of them I became.

I don’t get attached to my babies. 

And I never get satisfied of mediocre ones. 

So why?

Why did this slaughter move me so much I ended up crying in front of their murderer?

Why did I feel betrayed by those babies I neglected for so long?

Because I only want to give birth to the most perfect babies.

I want my babies to be big.

I want them to grow older than a year or two.

I want them to grow old and so big people would talk about them for years.

I want them to change and help the world.

But you don’t give birth to these magnificent babies.

You educate your ugly babies to become great and beautiful babies.

You teach them how to crawl.

Then to walk.

And only then, to run.

But to transform these ugly babies, you first need to give birth to them.

And ugly babies with such great potential don’t come at every birth.

To get these babies you need to push.

And push.

And push even more.

You need to kill the ones who’ll make you cry.

You need to slaughter those who’ll embarrass you.

The ones who’ll dare only satisfying you shall deserve the same chastisement.

I  became a grieving mother.

And I am now already a happy future mother.

I will give birth to more ugly babies.

I will educate the strongest ones and eradicate the weakest ones.

None shall waste my time.

None shall embarrass me again.

I will become a proud mother.

Mother of great children. 

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