Dear Casey Anthony,
Jul 5th, 2011
America is horrified and fascinated by your story but don’t get confused by this attention; America pretty much hates you and I am willing to bet, young moms hate you most.
Living only a few hours from you, I began following your story in 2008 when your beautiful child went missing and I had a newborn. I projected onto you how I would feel if my new daughter were missing. The thought made my stomach hurt yet I stayed glued to the set.
When they found your daughter’s body in a trash bag in the woods with tape over her mouth, my daughter was a still-screaming-non-stop-7-month-old. I thought about you. I wondered if you lost your shit. I wanted to lose my shit too. I was angry that my baby was so hard while others’ seemed easy. I was anxious and worried about crazy things like giant snakes getting into my house and biting my baby while she slept. My sleep deprivation fueled some dark post-partum thoughts, too horrible to write here. But I put my child first; I didn’t allow myself to entertain these thoughts.
I asked for help, something you had in abundance. How blessed to have your parents, not only involved, but willing to house you and help you in any way they could.
I wondered if you were too young to understand the unspoken maternal code that we protect against all costs. This means that there is no more “you” as you existed before. Moms mourn that loss of self and move forward through packing lunches and nighttime routines and potty training and kissing boo boos. This means that playing drinking games with tatted college dropout types while wrapped in an American flag is not an activity you get to do anymore. Pretty much every action that made you a reckless 20-something girl is out and the Mom order is in. In even shorter terms- suck it up and be effing responsible for the child you created. Even when you don’t want to. Even when you are careening on the edge of your own sanity. Even when it is no damned fun. Even when you are still a girl yourself.
Do what all the moms do. Pop a Xanax. Have a cigarette. Pour yourself a glass of wine and call your friend. Give yourself a Time Out before the unspeakable can be entertained.
Despite your new upswept ponytail and your pastel button down tops, we cannot get out of our heads the pictures of you partying while your daughter was missing. Whatever the jury comes back with, we moms have already found you guilty. Guilty of putting yourself before your innocent child.
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