I saw you as I was buying my coffee. You: sitting, eyes brimmed red and tears flowing, while the baby kicked in her stroller. Me: Just over six years away from those tender raw postpartum depression days.

I am projecting, of course. I had postpartum depression, so when I see a miserable new mom, I assume she is struggling with the transition to motherhood just as I struggled (and thrashed and suffered and nearly drowned) when my daughter was born. Actually, I project my PPD days on all the new mamas I see, not just the ones who are crying at the mall. Even the mamas who are smiling and seem radiant: I worry about you. What worries might keep you awake at night? What OCD rituals might you be performing to calm the anxiety? What intrusive thoughts did you have yesterday when the baby would not stop crying? I know how easy it is to look like everything is okay, because that was what I did. And I’m not even that great of an actress.

I saw you, Mama Crying At The Mall, and I wanted to say hello. I wanted to stoop down and ask, “How are you doing?” I wanted to look into your tear filled eyes and say, “I worry about mamas with babies, you see, because my babies kicked my ass.”

But I didn’t, because I was worried I would say the wrong thing and make you feel worse. Also, I was waiting for my coffee. But mostly, I was just worried that I would say the wrong thing. So I said nothing and by the time I got my coffee, you had wiped away your tears and pushed the stroller away.

To the Mama Crying at the Mall: next time I will try to do better. Fuck these 21st century manners. Fuck pretending feelings do not exist at the mall. Fuck all this social and emotional isolation.

It’s been over six years since I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, and damn, those raw intense feelings keep fading and fading. But I want to remember them at least a little so I can relate. So the next time I see a mama with a baby, whether she is crying or not, I remember to ask the most important question of all:

How are you?