Welcome to another post in our series on depression. Be sure to check out the entire series here
My childhood day dreams were filled with fantasies of someday becoming a mom that would fully encompass all of the amazing qualities that would win “mom of the year” awards. My expectations of what motherhood would be were rooted in these little girl fantasies. They were based solely on my own strength and performance rather than in trusting that God would supply all that I would need as a mom if I would surrender and depend on Him. Fears or thoughts of post-partum depression never crossed my mind.
After my first son was brought home from the hospital, reality started to settle in that this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. I thought breastfeeding would be the most natural thing and yet my son refused to latch and became very jaundice. I felt like I was already failing as a mom and put huge pressure on myself to do everything perfectly without help. Pressures and fears started to consume my thoughts and I wasn’t sleeping and running on fumes. Six days after my son was born, I woke up and just knew that something significant had changed. My heart felt like it was beating a million miles an hour and it seemed as though an elephant was sitting on my chest so I couldn’t catch my breath.
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