I Survived Postpartum Depression

I will start off by saying what pretty much every postpartum survivor has probably said, "I never thought it could happen to me." I was the happiest pregnant woman, even though my circumstances were not the best. I had been in a two year relationship with a meth and crack addict who had four children from a previous marriage and had no respect left for his kids, his family, me or himself. I finally "saw the light" and left the relationship, only to find out that I was pregnant. This is my story.

I decided to keep the baby and give it the best damn life possible without the father because I didn't want to raise a child in that environment. I was happy and excited to be a single mom. I made a decision I was proud of and had the full support of my wonderful family. I remember reading about postpartum depression in all my preparation manuals but always discarded it because I was too happy and couldn't imagine NOT wanting my baby. I was so excited about the day of the birth and years to come.

About three weeks after the birth of my beautiful son, I moved closer to family. The place I planned to move into didn't work out, so I had to move again. In all this time I was moody, but I just took it as being overwhelmed and scared with all that was going on and being a single mom.

I remember looking at my son and wondering "Shouldn't I feel more elated?" I couldn't figure out why my maternal instinct wasn't kicking in. I put up with all this for two months. In the third month things really started to go downhill. I finally settled in my place with my son, but I wasn't happy.

I would cry all the time, I would snap at him just for crying and I was dreading spending the rest of my life raising this thing. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely loved my son and never thought of hurting him, but I also resented having him. I would think I should have just gotten an abortion; then my life could be back to normal.

I, of course, never told anyone these feelings because I didn't want people to think of me as crazy or a bad mom, plus I am a very proud person and I didn't want to admit that I couldn't raise him after boasting that I could.

Then came the fourth month, the month I will never forget. It was summer and hot as hell. I was trying to keep my son and I cool in the house plus just trying to get through the day. I snapped. All of a sudden I just started bawling. My son was sitting in his bouncy chair and for the love of God, just stared at me and giggled. It was almost like he was trying to make mommy stop crying. I had to walk away from him, go into the bathroom and bang my head. Yes, I actually banged my head against the wall to just get the anger, grief, frustration and pain out.

Thankfully I got through the day (I don't know how). The next day I asked my Aunt if she could come over and babysit so I could go grocery shopping. On that trip to the store I wanted to kill myself. I had to fight so hard not to drive into oncoming traffic. I cried all the way there, in the store and all the way back still fighting the urge not to kill myself. When I got home I failed to pull myself together so my Aunt took one look at me and said "You need help."

She called my parents and told them the situation. My parents came to my house that night and took both my son and I to their house. We stayed for a whole month while I went to the doctor to get medication and just get help. My family was so supporative and my mother is a true saint. I remember she would stay home from work so she could raise my son and let me get the help I needed. Plus, she went online to educate herself on this disease so she could be there for me.

She would just hold me and let me cry, not say a word, just hold me. I was so pained because I wanted to be the best mom and I loved my son so much but I wasn't able to take care of him. Thank goodness for family. She said that I was a good mom because I was still trying, loved my son and was getting help so that I could give him the best damn life possible (see, she's a saint).

After my medication started to work and I had been in counselling sessions with my local nurses, I was able to go home with my son. I was now feeling like I should, like a mom. My relationship with my son now is so strong and I am the momma bear to my little cub. I have my maternal instinct; it was always there though because throughout my ordeal I never once neglected him or treated him wrong. It was just that because of the disease, I wasn't able to truly enjoy it.

It is the worst feeling to have no control over your own feelings. You feel like you are in a hole and you cannot get out. I remember the counsellors telling me that a light was at the end of the tunnel but I just couldn't see it. Now I can. With the amazing help of my local nurses, postpartum group, family, doctors and most of all my son I have come out of the hole and I'm elated.

Being a mother is the most rewarding and important thing I will ever do in my life. I can't imagine my life without my son and can't imagine how I lived life before without him. I'm truly grateful to God that I was blessed with my son and the strength to overcome postpartum depression. I don't ever want to go through that dark time ever again, however, I'm strangly grateful that I did go through it.

It made me realize how strong I am, how important family is and how to cherish life more. There is a reason for everything I believe and sometimes it is not always an easy reason but that little angel of mine gave me so much more to live for and I'm am so excited for the years to come with him.