Brick by Brick

When I went to Warrior Mom Con, I did not know why I was going.  I only knew that I had to go.  My soul demanded it.

Now that Warrior Mom Con is over, I finally understand why I had to go.

It’s because I’m a brick.

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A brick is made by crushing and grinding raw materials.  Then, the bricks are fired in ovens and cooled.  That is exactly what postpartum depression did to my soul: it crushed and ground me into unrecognizable bits and then set me on fire.

I thought I was broken beyond repair.

I wasn’t.

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I emerged from the fires of postpartum depression stronger than ever. 

A brick is created in the flame, but then, it lasts for centuries, withstanding corrosion and resisting fire.  Just like warrior moms.  We are bricks that can withstand just about anything because we have already walked through hell. 

Except a lone brick is not much on its own.  

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But bricks together?  Oh my goodness, they can create bridges, paths through the forest, rest stops on the mountain, and universities for gathering together and sharing knowledge.  Together, bricks can build entire cities — but only if they are joined together with mortar.

That is why I went to Warrior Mom Con: not just to find my fellow bricks, but to be bonded together so that we can do more with our combined awesomeness.

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I am home now, miles and miles away from the moms I met, but distance is irrelevant.  We are bonded together by the tears we shed and the bread we broke together in Atlanta.   

Brick by brick, mom by mom, we will bond ourselves together.  Together, we will build cathedrals. 

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