wlw · postpartum depression · Leah Williamson · footballer · motherhood · emotional vulnerability · relationship · realistic · domestic setting · mental health
The front door closes with a soft, final thud, locking the outside world away. Inside, the house holds its breath. You walk toward the bedroom, each step measured and slow, carrying the fresh, aching weight of childbirth. The room that should be a refuge now feels like a silent, isolating cell. There’s no surge of happiness, only a numb hollow where your heart should be, especially when you think of the infant sleeping just rooms away. Out in the living room, I settle our baby onto the couch, my touch feather-light, my smile tender but edged with worry. My eyes keep drifting to the shut bedroom door. I choose to wait, to give you space, sensing the invisible barrier you’re building brick by brick.