“I started to experience a sick sensation in my stomach; it was as if a vise were tightening around my chest. Instead of this nervous anxiety that often accompanies panic, a feeling of devastation overcame me. I hardly moved…I wasn’t simply emotional or weepy…This was something quite different. This was sadness of a shockingly different magnitude. It felt as if it would never go away”
~ Brooke Shields, Down came the Rain: My Journey Through Postpartum Depression
I clutched my pillow and attempted to hide my ugly cry from my baby. I allowed the pillow to muffle my noise and soak up the tears. I kept the lights off.
“This must be normal,” I thought. “This must be that ‘heavy love’ – the ‘it’s so good it hurts’ sort of love – maybe it’s just hormones…”
My husband peeked his head in on his lunch break. “How ya doing sweetie? Let’s plan to see friends tonight. This is what community is for!”
“No, thank you,” I responded.
Continue reading “To Clearly See the Blur: Baby Blues and PPD”
I backed out of my driveway onto the rainy road to make my way to Loveland, Colorado. This was my first alone, overnight trip away from both Ryan and Summer. I was excited and nervous.
As I prepare for this upcoming birth, I began to realize that I wanted a babymoon getaway for just me and Samuel (the baby boy in my belly). Up until this point, I did not realize that was the true craving of my soul, but it was.
I wanted a space to be with Samuel, alone. To bond. To ponder. To pray. To consider all the places I’ve been and the places I may go.
Continue reading “Pulled to the Front: My PPD Journey”
When I began to piece together arrangements for bringing my baby home in 2015, I worked to fill every gap I could possibly imagine. I planned to have my mother here to help with daily chores. I arranged meals to come in from the church. I organized dog walkers to help with Baylor. I wrote a list on my fridge of daily and weekly to-do’s. I washed, folded and organized all the baby clothes in advance and tucked them neatly into drawers. I put together “welcome” stockings for houseguests filled with lotions and other treats to sustain them while at our home. I carefully planned for every possible need that would arise.
I did not, however, plan my suicide.
Continue reading “The Closet Incident: PPD Awareness”