Chapter 7: the silent storm
The first week at home was nothing like Meera had imagined.
Anaya was healthy, but restless. Her cries echoed through the night, and Meera’s stitches ached with every sudden movement. Sleep became a distant memory.
Shanta Devi’s comments continued.
"We raised three kids without so much drama. You girls nowadays are too delicate."
Aarav tried to help, but he was soon caught between his mother’s expectations and Meera’s exhaustion.
One evening, while Anaya slept for a brief hour, Meera stared at the wall, tears slipping down silently.
“I should be happy,” she whispered to herself. “Why do I feel like I’m drowning?”
It wasn’t sadness, not exactly. It was something heavier — like standing still while the world moved too fast.
The doctor called it postpartum blues, possibly postpartum depression.
“You’re not alone,” she reassured. “Many mothers feel this way. Let’s keep talking about it.”
But talking wasn’t easy in a house that expected silence. Meera began journaling again. Short thoughts. Honest ones:
I miss who I was.
I’m scared of not being enough.
But I love her so much it hurts.
Aarav noticed the distance and held her closer one night.
“We’ll get through this, Meera. Let’s ask for help.”
They found a counselor — someone who listened without judgment. Slowly, Meera began to reclaim her space, her voice.
Motherhood, she realized, was more than lullabies. It was breaking, healing, and choosing to rise — every single day.
