Stretched out on the long rugged brown sofa I watch my unborn daughter move in my swollen belly, twisting and turning

The knocking of footsteps and clinking noises come from outside the bedroom door. My eyes are still shut as I lie in bed hoping

I remember the day we chose the blue house. It was falling to pieces. The porch was held by rotting pieces of wood,

My eyes drift open as I hear the cries from his crib. I lie there in my warm bed, dreading waking up and getting cold for the fourth time

I was pretty appalled the other day when I tried to catch the bus home from school with my 18 month old son. Upon presenting my student ID

When you wake up you step outside into the garden and feel the wind and sun in your face. It’s a brand new day and peaceful morning.

I stare through the window down to the old pohutakawa, occasionally flicking my eyes across to the jumbled numbers on the clock.

I look up at the power lines, watching a pair of my brother’s old all black Air Maxs dangle while the sun goes down.

The pain in my back is excruciating. I cry for help. Silence. The pain subsides. I feel weak.

I always thought depression was something that anyone could get over easily.

The mist from the sky still circled around the little brown shack that clung to the earth ...