"When we give birth, we're like, wow, the emotions, the hormones, everything," she said. "You realize that you need a strong support system with you. You need help. You need people to love on you and make sure that you're okay."
Hours after Princess Diana gave birth, she walked out onto the steps of the Lindo Wing, the private maternity ward of St. Mary's Hospital in London, where she was met with photographers from around the world. As she introduced Prince William, then a couple years later, Prince Harry, she looked radiant, with flawless makeup and flowing gowns. It was a portrait of maternal serenity.
It wasn't helpful. It didn't make me feel any better about my situation, nor did it make me feel stronger. All it did was make me feel guilty. Guilty that I had given my daughter this man as a father, guilty that I had fallen for his tricks when clearly everybody else knew he was bad news, guilty that I was bad at picking partners.
I was standing in the kitchen, unshowered, my 5-week-old baby in the bouncy seat at my feet as I washed dishes, and my toddler rolling cars up and down the back of my legs, when my husband hinted that he wanted to have sex.
