by Molly Balint posted in Mom Stories

I won't ever forget the drive to my OBGYN. Snaking through the back roads to avoid the beltway traffic, taking deep breaths to calm my heart, racing in my chest. Blinking back tears as I thought about the conversation I needed to have with my doctor.
It had been months leading up to this visit, but a few days of scary symptoms had forced me to finally make the call.
If I'm honest with myself, the first glimpses of this began just hours after Birdy's birth. My first night alone in the hospital, unable to sleep. I felt pangs of panic--shortness of breath, a racing heart. I felt alone in my room. Exhausted. Baby number four in my arms. Number four. I should be a calm, collected pro at this. But here was a baby I couldn't quiet no matter how much nursing and skin to skin coddling, and cooing and swaddling I gave her. When I came home, the crying continued. Hers. And mine. I put on a chin-up, happy face for everyone. I wanted to believe I had everything under control, as much as I wanted everyone else to believe it, as well. There were no regrets. Everything was fine. I could handle this.
But as weeks gave way to months those baby blues never seemed to disappear. As we shifted and adjusted to life with four, we reached a new normal in our home and things seemed to settle down.
Those hard newborn days were behind me. We were in the swing of things.
Everyone seemed just fine. Everyone, except for me.

Six months after Birdy's birth I finally ...