This post contains raw reflections on postpartum depression, including thoughts of disappearing and spiritual distress, and emotionally triggering moments. If you are in a fragile space, please read with care or come back when you’re ready. You are not alone.
If you’ve been following my journey, you know the start was anything but easy. I thought the “baby blues” would just pass like a summer storm. But the clouds stayed way longer than I imagined. I was living with Postpartum Depression and I was tired.
The Invisible Weight
Some days felt “normal,” whatever that even means anymore. Other days were so hard I don’t even know how I was walking straight. With my man working 12-hour shifts, and everything fell on me.
Our son wasn’t sleeping long stretches, still in our room, and wouldn’t tolerate his crib. So I transitioned to safe co-sleeping just to survive. He was up every 2-3 hours and by the time i’d relax my body, he’d wake up again. I was running on empty.
I looked okay to the world, but inside, I was silent. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to exist either. I just wanted to disappear. I remember sitting down with my man one night and saying, “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” Not because I didn’t love my son because he was thriving. But I wasn’t. That’s how deep my postpartum depression had gotten.
If you feel like you are watching a movie of your life rather than living it, you are likely in “battery saver mode.” I created The Unveiled Identity Guide to help you recognize the woman behind the mama. [Download your free 3-page guide here].
You can See It in My Eyes: When the Numbness is Visible
There was a moment we were all together in the room, and I had gone quiet. Zoned out. My body was present, but I wasn’t there. I didn’t even realize how far gone I was. That’s when my bad looked over at my man and said
“Do you understand what postpartum is? Because if you don’t and most men don’t, you need to look it up. You can see it in her eyes.”
That moment stuck with me. Because my parents weren’t just checking in on me. They were making sure my partner saw me too.
One day, after a long shower, my mom came to check on me. I said I was fine. She started to leave, but something in me broke open, and I called her back. I cried hard. I finally told her the truth. How I was really feeling. And in that moment, she wrapped me up in the kind of hug only a mom can give. She wiped my tears and never let me go. After that, my parents became even more watchful. They didn’t let me fall through the cracks.
Why I Chose a Different Path for MY PPD Recovery
At that same six-week check-up, they offered therapy. Then medication. And I said no to both.
Not because I didn’t want help but because I didn’t see the point. I wasn’t afraid to talk. I was already talking to my friends, my man, my parents. Talking didn’t scare me. I was just tired of talking.
As for the medication, it was a no from me. I read every single thing before I take anything especially while breastfeeding. I work in clinical trials. And when they handed me something that was new into the market as well as hadn’t been tested on breastfeeding women? I told the doctor nope. Don’t send me that prescription again. Period.
Spiritual Warfare and the Fight to Keep Showing Up
The truth? I didn’t realize how deep in I was until something darker happened. A spiritual attack. It came first for me then for my child. I won’t go into detail, because some things I need to hold close. But I will say this: I had to fight like hell to save myself… and my son. I can still feel it. Still see it. It haunts me.
I kept showing up and fighting because my son needed me. I was the one who knew every cue, every signal. I knew how to calm him, feed him, soothe him. Even when my bond with him felt like it was still forming, he had already chosen me. My man would remind me all the time:
“He loves you. He only wants you. The bond is there. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
What Helped Me Survive the Darkness
I’m not healed from PPD entirley. There are still days I am fighting and trying to simply get out of bed. I have a strong support system that has refused to let me sprial too far and on top of that these were my anchors:
- Absolute silence when I could get it.
- The Nook Protocol: Setting a non-negotiable 15-minute boundary just to breathe.
- Long, hot showers
- Family and friends checking in
- My man holding the line with family when I couldn’t.
If You’re in It Too…
To the mama reading this, unsure if she’s feeling the weight of postpartum depression I see you. You’re not broken. You’re not crazy. You’re not alone. You can ask for help. You should ask for help. And if help looks like medication or therapy for you, that’s okay too. You’re allowed to do what you need to stay here for yourself and your baby.Because the truth is, not everyone makes it out of postpartum.
But you can.
P.S. If you’re ready to start finding your way back to yourself, I’d love for you to join me in The Nook. [Click here to download your free ‘Unveiled Identity’ Guide]
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