08/14/2026
I never had the euphoric after-birth feeling of meeting your baby for the first time after my 2nd was born. My first feelings were dread and anxiety. I remember her scream was so loud and it felt overstimulating . I was exhausted after labor, my toddler was going to wake soon and I had no energy to care for a newborn + a two year old. I feared for the morning to come. I panicked inside.
Against my midwives recommendations, I was back to working out at the gym two weeks postpartum. I had extreme insomnia. The sleep deprivation was killing me and exercise seemed to help me get by.
My midwives were amazing and came to my home several times over the first 6 weeks. At the final postpartum visit I filled out the standard postpartum questionnaire. Because of how prideful I was, I wasnโt going to be honest on the questionnaire because I didnโt think PPD was real. I thought that motherhood was just hard and thatโs that. When I lied on my questionnaire and still scored above a 10 I sobbed.
My midwife canceled the appointments she had after me and started making calls to different resources to get me help. I knew I needed help, but I refused to accept it. I honestly didnโt know how I could get help without disrupting my entire family and their schedules. I was not thinking of my healing at all. So, I continued on without help despite all of their efforts.
I knew the first 3 months would be hard, but once I got to 5-7 months postpartum and It only seemed to get worse I was at a loss. My home was a disaster, I had extreme rage, suicidal ideations, insomnia, and horrible hallucinations at night. I often times couldnโt get out of bed. I couldnโt work. I called my husband home from work more times than I would like to admit out of fear for my life and my kids โ and at the time, we desperately needed a pay check.
At about 7 months postpartum I decided to get help. It was an answered prayer. More in comments.