I give permission slips to moms like me,
Who had no idea what we were signing up for, when we blindly traded in our birth control for a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting.
Love at first touch?
Not for me it wasn’t.
There for all your firsts?
Do they mean paralyzing anxiety? Weekly therapy appointments? Prescriptions for antidepressants to stop the merry-go-round of negativity spinning inside my brain?
The Medicated Mommy who picked up the debris left by postpartum depression and anxiety to create the community I wish I had when I was struggling in a dark closet all by myself.
Six years ago, when my son was born, I didn’t get out of bed for almost six months. My mom and my husband took over my mommy duties WHILE I CRIED IN BED. I hated breastfeeding and quit after five days. Formula became my second favorite F-word. I only left the house when forced to, believing I’d rather be vomited on than drag my unshowered ass to mommy and me class, where all those perfectly manicured mamas raved about how fabulous their new lives had become. I just didn’t get it. And I was miserable.
I DID NOT ENJOY being a mom ONE BIT, and needed heavy meds just to cope with my scary thoughts. What would people think of me if they knew I was drugged and looking for a way out? I had never felt anxiety like this before. How was I the only mom I knew who felt so dark, even in the middle of the afternoon? Why didn’t I get the memo on how to do this right? What was wrong with me that I had no interest in watching my kid play with his toes or taking him for a walk to the park?
I CREATED MOTHERHOOD-UNDERSTOOD ONLY AFTER LEARNING HOW MANY WOMEN SUFFERED IN SILENCE, ASHAMED, AS I DID.
WOMEN WITH DURING PREGNANCY AND POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY NEED AN HONEST, JUDGEMENT-FREE PLACE TO CONNECT, WITH OURSELVES AND EACH OTHER.
YOU FOUND IT. NOW BREATHE…AND leave the pretending TO YOUR kids.