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I’ll speak up on my postpartum depression in case someone out there needs to feel seen or understood. [Thread pending...]
Please RT.
Please RT.
I had a very difficult pregnancy and I had to move to Kent away from family and friends as my ex (fiancée at the time) was the only one willing and able to take care of me. First trimester was ROUGH. I literally felt like I was dying.
Get around to the 4/5 month mark I was having hip problems and was limping from my baby bump. I was still skinny at the time and my body just couldn’t handle the extra weight. Then I had to get tested for gestational diabetes. A test I never want to have to do again!!!
Then come round to labour time, I was getting pricked and prodded all over the place. I didn’t feel like a human being. It was at this point I felt like an incubator as I felt I had no choice but to let them do what they were doing because my son was more important.
I personally hate being examined and it sparked my already bad anxiety. I can’t help but get feelings of being violated even though it was a medical setting. I hated it and I don’t think I’ve still dealt with the trauma.
I wasn’t getting into active labour. My son’s heart rate was high. I remember the doctor coming in to tell me that she suggests that I get an emergency c section. It was the news I really didn’t want to hear. My heart sank. For some reason I didn’t allow myself to cry.
Thankfully, the c section procedure was quite pleasant. I remember hearing my son’s first cries and being excited he was finally born. They gave him to me but he was all the way up on my shoulder. I was lying down so I couldn’t really see him or have a moment with him.
My lower half was still numb. My moment was slightly ruined but I was glad that he was healthy and strong.
Recovery from such invasive surgery was probably one of my worst experiences. To this day, I very rarely touch my scar.
Recovery from such invasive surgery was probably one of my worst experiences. To this day, I very rarely touch my scar.
I remember this new experience of being a mother being a very strange one. I remember not feeling comfortable about it. I hated the feeling of breastfeeding, it was too odd for me. Again, I felt it better to put the needs of my son before my feelings.
Then I started to feel very low, like I made a bad decision. It was even hard for me to even see my child as my son because I didn’t get to have my moment with him. I didn’t see him come out and they just handed me a baby I couldn’t even really experience. 
My health took the biggest knock it ever did in my life. I was always healthy and never had any need to see the GP and had never been to the hospital or on regular medication. But that all changed.
My body CHANGED. Boy did my body change. Imagine being really skinny, having the body of a sprinter to... well... 
The fact that the difference was so vast is what messed with my head. I didn’t recognise myself anymore and felt like I was in someone else’s body.
The fact that the difference was so vast is what messed with my head. I didn’t recognise myself anymore and felt like I was in someone else’s body.
Being stuck in Kent, I was far away from friends and family. My ex was always off at work, so I was going through the biggest/newest experience of my life by myself. No one looking out for me or helping me. Didn’t help my mental health AT ALL. Did my best for my son however.
Fast forward a few years, I notice my son acts a bit differently from other kids. Some milestones he was hitting early, some he was behind. Some troubling behaviours were happening with him too. We then find out that he is autistic. I remember sitting in front
Of the paediatrician VERY close to tears when he gave me the news, but I managed to hold it in by the grace of who knows what. I’d seen children get pushed to the side because of their disabilities, I worried for my son.
Oh and my relationship? Loooool. That went sour real fast. Turns out that the man couldn’t handle stress all that well and his mental health was waaaaaaaayyyy too off. It ruined the relationship and I escaped. Yes. ESCAPED. No he wasn’t violent, just miserable asf.
He didn’t want to be happy like I did. I had to get out of there. I fought to make it happen with all my might and I worked a literal miracle.
Postpartum depression is definitely still hanging around. I had to push myself to get somewhere more than anyone will ever know. I had to endure a literal prison and was counting down the days till I’d be free. Now that I’m finally out, life decided to bring coronavirus
I’ll be honest. I lost my zest for life. I overextended myself emotionally and mentally to achieve something. I’m burnt out and need rest. The lack of support I have made me wonder if any of this is even worth it. Who wants to wake up every day to struggle on their own???
I don’t know if I’ll ever recover, but maybe all I needed to do was just to get myself this far. Maybe this is finish line. I dunno.
But if you’re going through the same, I see you. I’m not judging you. I’m not looking down on you. I will not make you feel less than or like you made a huge mistake. You are wonderful and I’m PROUD of you. That baby LOVES you. Like seriously loves you 
I’ve been holding this in for years because some people on here like to gossip too much instead of looking out for folk. I made this thread for those like me who feel alone and unseen. I see YOU. 
