Motherly acquired Motherhood Understood, continuing our mission of providing a woman-centered and supportive community for mothers. We are leaning into telling personal essays from mothers as a way that we learn, connect and feel less alone. Centered on the perspectives of maternal mental health, these stories are intended to help moms feel validated and seen.
"Postpartum depression and anxiety hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t pull myself out from under it. I felt horrible for feeling the way I did because society tells new moms that motherhood shouldn’t be this way."
"I kept trying to quiet the thoughts by telling myself it wasn’t permanent, but it seemed almost impossible to believe. It was like an out of body experience."
"I kept begging the nurse to tell me that I was OK. I kept saying over and over again, “I don’t feel alive. Am I alive?” The nurse kept asking me if I knew that I was repeating that over and over again. I didn’t care though. I didn’t feel like I was in my body. I was so detached from reality and the world around me..."
"I was ashamed that I was struggling with depression instead of experiencing pure joy, but I was not alone. You are not alone, and there is nothing shameful about it."
"I packed a bag at one point so I could run away in the middle of the night. I told myself that they would be OK. He could find a wife that wasn’t such a burden and didn’t cry all the time. My daughter could have a mom that didn’t get angry at every little thing."
"What was postpartum depression? No one told me this could happen. No one told me I wasn't a failure if I experienced it. No one told me they were there for me if I was struggling or there were steps I could take to heal."
The poem in this picture has meant so much to me over the last few years. I get emotional every time I read it. I hold my head high and feel so thankful I found it.
This wasn’t normal. A mother should have so much love for her child. She should know what to do, and when to do it. She shouldn’t dread when he would wake up to eat. She shouldn’t dread living her life in two hour time frames. And she shouldn’t hate herself for it. But yet I did.
I had what I thought to be normal baby blues. I had a hard time looking at pictures of my son from the previous week because I felt he was growing up too fast. I cried all the time.
