There’s a song on Kacey Musgraves’ Grammy-award-winning album that gives me all the feels. It’s called “Rainbow,” and a few weeks ago I started singing it to my daughter at bedtime. The song sounds like a lullaby, and it seems so very appropriate and personal to sing to my little girl, who has made it through months of acid reflux (read: months of 12-hour-long screaming episodes, untreatable pain, refusing bottles, losing weight, and very little sleep).
The third or fourth night I sang it to her—bending over the changing station in the nursery, wrapping her in a fluffy, pink sleep sack—I was suddenly overcome with emotion. I started crying, and I couldn’t make it through the first chorus. The words were stuck in a lump in my throat: “The sky is finally open…the rain… and wind… stopped blowin’…” I squeaked, and I couldn’t push through them.
In that moment I realized this was just as much a lullaby for me as it was for her.
After I put her to bed in the crib, I lost it. And for once, I actually allowed myself to lose it. I turned on a hot shower, put the song on my phone on repeat and wallowed in a giant ugly cry as the water hit my face!
“In that moment I realized this was just as much a lullaby for me as it was for her.”
I feel like I’ve wanted to say something about postpartum depression ever since I had my daughter. According to the American Psychological Association, as many as 1 in 7 women get PPD. One in seven! We all know at least seven moms. Yet, it’s something I understood nothing about before I had it.
Breaking down during that song and listening to a metaphor about wind and rain and umbrellas made me realize I was a one-in-seven mom.
Before that, I thought the not eating, not-feeling-anything-but-sadness-and-total-failure was just sleep deprivation. I have an incredible friend (and fellow photographer) who is also named Naomi, and she said, “I had heard it was ‘hard’ and it ‘wasn't going to be easy’ ...this is what they meant, right?”
If that’s you right now, I want you to know: You are not alone, and you are doing a good job. Read it again, and try to believe it: You are not alone, and you are doing a good job.
I’m not totally out of the woods yet—after 9 months, I still feel it some days. But I am lightyears better than I was, and I decided to celebrate with a photoshoot inspired by Kacey Musgraves’ “Rainbow.”
And if you’re in the thick of the storm, or you’re coming out of it, maybe the song will speak to you the way it speaks to me.
Girl, the skies will open.
And when you are able to let go of your umbrella, you’ll see what I did.
That sweet, perfect baby you have—the one that you were meant to mother—has been your rainbow the whole time.
“Rainbow” by Kacey Musgraves:
When it rain it pours but you didn't even notice
It ain't rainin' anymore, it's hard to breathe when all we know is
The struggle of staying above, the rising water line
Well the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same old storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella, darlin' I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colors
Yellow, red and orange and green, and at least a million others
So tie up your bow, take off your coat and take a look around
'Cause the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blown'
But you're stuck out in the same old storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella, darlin' I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
Oh tie up your bow, take off your coat and take a look around
Everything is alright now
'Cause the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same old storm again
Let go of your umbrella, darlin' I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
Yeah there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
It all be alright
