Confessions of a Mom with PPD

Confessions of a Mom with PPD

I'm going to be posting a little bit of this at a time. It is a long story, and a hard one to tell.


Here goes. This post is a long time coming. This is my confession to the world. To mothers (all parents), and to children. To friends and family and anyone else reading this. I failed as a mother. I failed at conquering postpartum depression to become the mother I always thought I was going to be. I don’t get to plan anymore birthday parties. I don’t and didn’t get to see a lot of their firsts (my daughter’s first steps, my son’s first day of school etc.) I don’t get to hand make ornaments and popcorn strings with them to decorate the Christmas tree. I don’t get to sooth tummy aches, I don’t get to hold them when they cry. I don’t get to play make believe and dress up or be anyone’s hero. I could go on and on with this. I’m reminded every day when I see people with their children, when I hear them talking about them at work. Games and trips on the weekends with their kids. I hear and see these things and I am constantly living with and feeling the pain of having failed my children. This is a long story, and it’s not one that’s told easily. The few times I have, I brace myself for judgment, for ridicule, and for questions I can’t answer.My relationship started with my ex-husband when I was 18.  My life previously had been a disaster. I could go into the stories of abuse and neglect that led me to the mental state I was in at that point but that’s not what this post is about. I had a lot of baggage. And a month into our relationship I lost my father. That’s a big cherry to cap off the end of my childhood. A year later we were engaged. We were pregnant right away. 7 months in, we started having complications. I ended up with severe preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome.I was rushed to the hospital and barely made it through the night with my life to see my beautiful baby boy. He was born a month early, 5lbs 3oz of perfection. He was ready to head home before his mama was. I was a mama bear. However, I can’t remember a lot of things from that time. I have been asking myself for years, when did it start? When did I lose myself? I lost myself in that beautiful baby boy. I relied on him for everything and I knew as long as he was there I would always be okay. I was grounded. He was the reason I will always have for living. Nothing could ever go wrong. 


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