We’ve Got This, The Fight Against Postpartum Depression

I had such an awesome game plan.

I got a double stroller to go on nice long walks.

I planned out my garden to get lots of outside physical activity.

The girls had their swing set outside whenever I needed a break.

I had several close friends that were well aware of my post-baby crazies.

Friends that could easily walk over and take the girls.

We had a park just down the road.

Denny had a whopping 3 weeks of time off saved up.

I had a midwife, a doula, a photographer, and a home birth planed.

My midwife was going to encapsulate my placenta.

I. Was. Ready.

Life happens. Plans change.

I still tried to do all I could to prevent postpartum depression.

I managed to find a midwife, doula, and photographer.

I have an amazing sister in law just down the road.

 I had a beautiful natural birth.

No complications.

My baby is perfectly healthy.

I’m eating my placenta for crying out loud.

 I did everything right.

And yet.

There are times when I am completely fine.

There are times when I can function like a grown woman.

There are times when I genuinely enjoy life.

Times when I just sit and stare into his beautiful eyes.

Times when I snuggle my silly girls.

Times when everything is ok.

In an instant it changes.

Someone does something that makes me snap.

My eyes glass over.

I stare off into nothing, and wait for it to come.

I get sucked down into that deep dark pit where everything is terrible.

Where the only thing I am capable of doing is crying.

Where words are too hard, and feeling is unbearable.

A small part of my brain assures me that this feeling can’t last forever.

I hang onto that one thought, gripping it for dear life.

Just a few hours, and it will pass.

In that moment, I cannot ask for help.

My mind can’t even form a simple sentence.

I am drowning.

Thankfully my husband is pretty pro at this.

He has witnessed the endless sobs as I struggle to find words that express how I feel.

He has watched me completely crumble in defeat.

He knows what’s going on.

So he just sits.

Reminding me that it is ok, feelings are normal.

I am not crazy, and it will stop soon.

No judgement.

Just love.

Love, as he waits for me to surface again.

Why put my crazy out on the internet?

To wipe out the general idea that PPD is all crazy moms that kill children.

Sticking babies in microwaves or drowning kids.

No.

PPD has nothing to do with your love for your kids.

Your body is trying to rebalanced itself.

It is something you cannot fully understand unless you experience it yourself.

So to any other moms coming undone.

The kids won’t shut up, the house is a mess, life is full of stress.

It will pass.

We keep fighting, and it will pass.

We got this.

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