“I don’t love you.

You were a mistake.

I wasn’t made to be a mother. Certainly not your mother.”

-my first thoughts as a mom.

Postpartum depression is real. It hits when you least expect it and takes root in your thoughts. It becomes the new voice in your head convincing you everything you’re doing is wrong. I always saw it as a weakness: only moms who don’t love their kids get it… and how sad that must be. How messed up are those moms who don’t love their kids? Who can’t bond with a sweet baby and feel joy when they see him/her? However, after becoming a mother myself, I’ve come to realize the thought that only ‘weak’ women get PPD is not true… postpartum depression hits and cripples so many moms: “As many as 50 to 75% of new mothers experience the “baby blues” after delivery. Up to 15% of these women will develop a more severe and longer-lasting depression, called postpartum depression, after delivery.” (source) It’s hit my family. My friends. And it hit me.

If so many moms get it, then why do we all feel so ashamed when we struggle with it? Why don’t we talk about it more? Where’s the honesty? Where’s the truth? It’s hidden behind forced smiles, quick snuggles, and cute outfits. That Instagram post shows the .4 seconds of calm for that mom, not the past 12 hours of screaming, crying, and anxiety. Your friends only tell you how great and fulfilling it is to be a mom. And maybe it is for them! Maybe they never felt a sad emotion or negative feeling towards their baby. Maybe they avoided the Baby Blues and PPD and fell deeply in love the moment they held their little one. Maybe not.

Let’s flip the script, moms. Let’s be open and honest with one another and support our fellow moms. Motherhood is hard! Why add unnecessary pressure to be perfect at it when none of us are?

I’ll go first…

My pregnancy was nothing short of perfect. My husband and I got pregnant our first month of trying and were overwhelmed with joy and anticipation. I had the normal first trimester sicknesses, jitters, anxieties, and dreams. Second semester was full of COVID and time with my husband. Third trimester rolled around in the heat of summer and brought along heartburn, swelling, and a tired momma. Nothing crazy or out of the ordinary for an expecting mom in 2020.

On September 17th, 2020, at 11:05 pm, the most beautiful baby boy entered this world. He was placed in my arms and looked right into my eyes. A few seconds later, however, he was whisked away and placed in the care of several NICU nurses: he wouldn’t breathe on his own. We didn’t hear the sweet sound of a newborn cry. Let me tell you how deafening that silence is.

As we began to pray and cry, Henry James was worked on furiously to get air into his little body, but ultimately was intubated and taken to the NICU. A neonatal doctor from Centennial was called in to examine him and made the call to transfer HJ. Dad went with him, but mom had to stay behind.

Tests, tubes, and monitors were our new normal. Henry was watched carefully for brain and organ damage due to lack of oxygen. But God was good. God was in control. God showed us all the ways His hands were on our sweet boy: Henry made extremely quick progress and was able to come home after just 9 days in the NICU. Our hearts exploded when we brought him home and introduced our son to his grandparents.

That same evening, I felt the first pangs of PPD… I cried randomly. I was sitting on the couch and couldn’t hold in the tears. I figured it was because I was coming down from the adrenaline of being in the NICU, and ignored what my body was telling me. I pushed through and assumed it would all be fine… after all, I wasn’t one of “those” moms. I had extra hormones, sure! But depression? Nah.

But those emotions kept surfacing. When Henry would cry (as all babies do…) I felt a rush of shame, disappointment, and failure. This baby is crying… again! I must be doing something wrong. That single thought spiraled through my brain, latched onto my preexisting anxiety, and created a monster in my mind.

“I don’t love you. I didn’t want you. I’m not a good mother.”

Those were the thoughts that took over my mind. They convinced me I was never meant to have a baby… especially this one. I was a failure and just needed to give up and get back to my real job. Henry would be better off with his grandmother everyday. I honestly looked at my baby and felt nothing but regret: I missed my old life, routine, and relationship with Ian. Every time I had to feed Henry, I saw it as a task to check off the list… not an opportunity to provide and bond with him.

How can any mother think and say these things…? Postpartum depression. Anxiety. Baby Blues. Hormones. Expectations. Trauma. Birth. Mix them all together and you have the answer. What’s even worse? When I had these thoughts, I felt shame afterwards. I bottled them up and pretended they didn’t exist. Thankfully, my husband saw right through me and knew I needed help. He reached out to my friends, our family, and sought counseling for me. Additionally, I had a humbling moment with the Lord and begged for help… I wanted to love my baby. Without hesitation, the Lord gently slapped me in the head and said, “I made you Henry’s mom for a reason. He is YOUR son.” Those two things (Ian’s persistence and love, and the Lord’s honesty and grace) helped me begin to crawl out of the hole I was in.

Here’s the thing Moms…. I couldn’t kick it on my own. My pride, shame, and fear held me back. We have to end the stigma surrounding PPD. It happens! And ITS OK! You just created a human from SCRATCH. You gave birth to it. You have hormones crashing all around you. Your body is healing from a trauma. YOU ARE ALLOWED to feel every emotion that sweeps over you. And you’re allowed to TALK ABOUT it.

Don’t be afraid to admit you need support.

Look at that face!

I look back now and wonder how in the world I thought I didn’t love him. But I did. My story isn’t the sweet one where I fell in love the moment I saw him… it took time and effort. But now I’m head-over-heels in love with this sweet boy. PPD was not the end of my story. It doesn’t have to be yours either.

**Looking for Postpartum Counseling? Check out ReadyNest Counseling. They are AMAZING.