I Refuse To Be Ashamed Of My Postpartum Depression

According to the Center of Disease Control, an estimated 11 to 20 percent of postpartum women experience postpartum depression. Of course, I had no idea how common it was until I experienced it myself, asked for help, and was informed that while I felt alone, I was anything but.

I had nothing to be ashamed of, because while postpartum depression is serious and impacts every woman differently, it's also much more prevelant than most new-moms think. I wasn't "broken" and I wasn't "messed up," I was just a new mom trying to navigate a new life with haywire hormones, lingering trauma, and an overwhelming exhaustion that exacerbated the entire situation.

I'll never forget the moment I realized I needed help. I had gone four days without anything close to resembling sleep, I was crying for no reason whatsoever, I didn't want anyone to touch me or be around me, and I was starting to feel lost in what was my new life. I looked at my son and didn't feel close to him, and I knew I needed some help.

I'm sure that moment would have come later on in my mom life if I hadn't of endured postpartum depression, but I'm thankful that it happened when it did. I had an undeniable teaching moment in which I was forced to realize that I cannot do this mom thing by myself, and that was a freeing moment to experience.

After my son was born and until I was pushed to the brink thanks to postpartum depression, I thought I had to do everything by myself in order to qualify as a "good mom." I was responsible for every feeding, every diaper change, every nap time, every late-night cry, every baby bath; every single thing that required effort. I didn't even want my partner to hold my baby, because what kind of a mother would I be if I just sat there and didn't care for my child, right?

Then postpartum depression set in and I couldn't physically, mentally, or emotionally handle every single aspect of parenthood. I was forced to rely on my partner, my mother, and my support system. Thankfully, that necessity lingered long after my postpartum depression ended, and I have learned that martyrdom and motherhood do not have to go hand-in-hand.

For a while there, postpartum depression was a wedge between my partner and I. I pushed him away because I was afraid to admit that I needed additional support after my son was born. Of course, he wasn't having any of that. He knew when to step in and helped me find the professional help I needed. We grew stronger because of postpartum depression, so while I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone (and really hope I never experience it again) I am not ashamed to have gone through it, either.

Honestly, I can't be ashamed of anything that has brought me to this specific point in my life. I am the mother to a smart, healthy, funny, and wonderful 2-year-old toddler. I am a working mom who (sometimes, on my good days I guess) found a balance that allows me to parent and advance my career simultaneously. Who knows what my life would look like if I didn't experience postpartum depression, right? Maybe I wouldn't have learned the lessons that carried me through epic toddler tantrums, scary parenthood mistakes, and other taxing situations that only motherhood can provide.

I endured seven knee surgeries in the span of two years because I broke my tibia, fibula, and knee cap. I have never been embarrassed to admit I broke several bones, or talk about how I overcame that physical injury. Mental health is no different.

My mental health is just as important as my physical health, so why should it be treated any differently? I refuse to allow the social stigma of mental illness make me feel less than. If anything, I should be proud that I overcame postpartum depression with the help of my support system, a professional, and medication.

Postpartum depression is a liar, and can trick any new mom into thinking they're alone. At least, that's what happened to me: I was convinced that I was the only mom to ever feel within and without; unsure of the decision to have a child and instantly guilty that I wasn't as happy as the mothers I saw on social media.

However, when I reached out for help and opened up about my experience with postpartum depression, I realized that I wasn't alone at all. I never was, and I never will be, and that lesson has stuck with me through every other part of motherhood. When I think I'm the only one going through nasty sleep regressions or toddler tantrums or just debilitating exhaustion, I remember the time another mom said, "Me, too," when I shared the fact that i had postpartum depression. We are never, ever, alone.

The moment I opened up and shared the fact that I had postpartum depression, I was inundated with stories from other women. It was truly incredible. In the span of a few minutes, I felt closer to women I thought were "picture perfect" mothers who never faced a single problem or endured the overwhelming feeling of self-doubt. Now, those women are my closest friends, and I know that I can turn to them for anything and everything, because we've all endured postpartum depression together.