Postpartum Depression Owns Me

I have a lot of people fooled. They think I’m doing great since giving birth. They think everything seems normal. They believe that I am fine. They are under the impression that I am this “amazing” person.

On all accounts, they are very wrong. Postpartum depression owns me.

Postpartum Depression

My husband knows the truth. Although, I believe he does not fully understand my very real struggle within since giving birth. I think he tries. Honestly. He talks about it with me. He makes an effort to hold my hand and tell me it is all OK.

The only problem, it is not “all OK”. Postpartum depression owns me.

I am lost in here. Lost in guilt. Lost in remorse. Lost in fear. Lost in my own mind while I am trying to care for all of my children. How, in any way, shape or form, do I, this “amazing person,” say “Hey everyone, I’m not OK!” I cannot. So even as I write this, I debate sharing. It is a risk.

My baby girl was born, and two minutes later her twin, my other baby girl joined our family. The next day, Baby B failed the pulse ox screening. Tests. EKG. Echo-cardiogram. They found that she had hypoplastic right heart syndrome and a hole in her heart.

Postpartum Depression

Guilt consumes me. Our baby wasn’t born 100% healthy. What did I do? I must have done something. Was it because we did IVF? Drank some caffeine? Didn’t go for enough walks? 

Fear is my biggest fear. Literally. I fear to feel the fear of losing my baby girl. The fear I felt when I was told my baby was being transported to another hospital for her undetected heart condition is a fear that I simply cannot feel again.

6 months and still…

Every little cough. Every seemingly deep breath. Every moment of slightly off colored skin. Every movement. Every lack of movement. Every morning, noon, and night, every second, I fall into this world where something must be wrong with my baby girl.

So many times have I written a text to her cardiologist to ask a question, send a picture of her blue skin, or a video of her cough….and then it takes every ounce of me to delete my words, take a deep breath and wait. Watch her. Put my hand on her chest. Feel her chest rise and lower. Stare at her tiny feet. Wait.

No. Everything is not OK. I am not sure that it ever will be “all OK”. Postpartum depression owns me. PTSD is a close second. I am definitely working on it, but this is the toughest spot I’ve ever been in. 

We are lucky our baby is here, doing well, and thriving. In that, I find a sliver of hope.

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Melissa lives in Dryden Township. She is married to Paul and together they have 4 wonderful kids. Liliana, 9, twins, Violet and Izabel, 4.5, and David, 1. Melissa is an IVF mommy. She owns Randazzo Jeweler in Almont with her husband. She also runs Tender Journey, a line of jewelry and blog inspired by her journey through infertility. Melissa has a pretty rambunctious dog, a small flock of chickens, and a few peacocks. She enjoys spending time with family and checking out local events with her family.

1 COMMENT

  1. I had postpartum depression with my first born. It was hard for me to deal with and hard for my family to see me go through it as well. You should follow me my website is called Life of a single mom.

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