This series deals with postpartum depression and thoughts of suicide. If you are struggling, you are not alone. Please reach out to the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988.
In the depths of early motherhood, I felt like drowning. I would have been happy to. That’s the scariest part of this whole story. Dying felt easier than living because I felt dead. Everything about me was gone. And in a period of 17 months, I didn’t just have one baby; I had two. The aftermath of such a whirlwind was devastating. The only solace was a needle and thread. I printed out images of myself from those early days and ripped them apart. It felt so good to see what was happening inside me made real. Knowing I had to keep going, both literally and figuratively, I began mending myself back together, in ways that made sense to my depressed soul. My thoughts jumbled, my relationships strained, my voice silent. Everything felt out of control, and yet no one seemed to notice. I just woke up every day and kept being a mom. And oh, that was so painful. Not because I didn’t love my children, but in spite of it.
