Some of you may recognize the phrase above from Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale.
Seven years ago, during my first pregnancy and birth, I found myself questioning everything—my instincts, my body, even my sense of reality. I had spent months enduring hyperemesis gravidarum, barely holding myself together, hoping that the suffering would all be worth it once my daughter was in my arms.
As mental health counselors, we know that healing from trauma never follows a straight line. It’s deeply personal, and often messy, but always brave. It can be hard to come up to the surface to take a breath and ask for help.
