They Loved Me After I Died
Language: en
My birth broke my mother. It was a difficult labor, one that left her body scarred and her mind fractured by severe postpartum depression. From the time I was an infant, the slightest sound from me would send her into a frenzy. She would scream, her hands finding my throat, squeezing until my face turned purple. But then, the storm would pass. She would collapse in front of my crib, sobbing, whispering, "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." My brother, Tyler, would look at my bruises with pity, but he’d always tell me the same thing: "Mom used to be gentle. Before you. Don’t blame her." My father…