by Becky Vieira posted in Parenting

My husband and I were looking over photos from my son?s first few months recently and suddenly I started crying. Sobbing. It wasn?t just my hormones that caused the hot tears to stream down my cheeks. That was part of the reason. But mostly it was anger.
Anger because I barely remember any of it. I can?t close my eyes and feel his tiny body, all 7 pounds of him, snuggled into me. Or recall the smell of his skin. I don?t remember changing his diapers, getting him dressed or what it was like to have his newborn hand wrapped around one of my fingers.
I don?t even recognize the woman holding him in the photos. I know it?s me, but the eyes are vacant, the face is gaunt. The smile is forced. It is not the image of a glowing, blissful new mother. Because I wasn?t.

My postpartum depression took everything from me. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. That bothers me, of course, but as I get stronger each day I?m making peace with all of that. The part I can?t forgive is how it stole those precious few months with my son, time I will never get back.
I was in survival mode. I knew I had to care for my son. I wanted to. But that?s all I did, only action and no emotion. I barely slept, my days and nights were spent nursing, rocking, shushing and telling my husband and family, ?I?m fine.? I obviously wasn?t.
I couldn't understand why motherhood was so hard for me and because I didn?t know anyone with PPD I thought I was the only one who felt this...