Postpartum Depression And How I Got The Help I Needed

I always dreamed of being a Mom. At thirty-seven years old, the dream became a reality. Our precious baby girl was born. I thought something magical would happen. Everything I read, heard someone talk about, said I was supposed to feel a deep connection with my baby. A connection beyond what I have ever experienced before. I didn’t.

Instead, I sat frozen. I felt disconnected from my baby. I just knew I was a terrible mother. How could I look at her and feel only emptiness? The crying came in waves. I barely slept, not because she kept me up, but because I couldn’t. I didn’t eat much. I just didn’t feel motivated to. I took care of the baby and kept her safe. I held her when she needed me to. I didn’t want to hurt her.

Photo by Zach Lucero on Unsplash. Altered by Jennifer Brewer via Canva.

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