A Letter to my Son

Dear Little Buddy,

Your arrival into this world was complicated. When you burst forth into the sterile light of the operating room with loud gusty cries, I cried with relief. Relief that the part of growing and building you was now complete. Yet I had no idea that I was in the midst of battling a demon that would only strengthen during your first months in this world. You were pink, plump with tiny lips overcome by your massive rosy cheeks. There was so much love for you in that hospital room. Your father proudly called the family to tell them of your arrival. Your aunt fell head over heels in love with you when she saw your beautiful face. Your grandmother cried, overcome with emotion when she saw you for the first time, resting on my chest. I learned a new tender side of my own father as your Pap gently held you and spoke in hushed tones to you.

Even I was taken aback as those immediate postpartum endorphins and adrenaline surged. But those emotions were fleeting. Perinatal depression robbed me of that special bond that so many new mothers blissfully describe.

You had nothing to do with the hopelessness and despair that I felt. Depression is an illness. It lies. My reality was distorted. The chemical imbalances that had trapped me in this strange, alternate world prevented me from connecting with you. I struggled with the concept of love.

When the storm finally broke – when treatment started to work – I finally could see through the clouds. I could see this beautiful boy that your father and I had created. I could appreciate your chubby thighs and gorgeous smile. I was able to bask in the cute, nerdy little laugh that bubbled up when I blew raspberries on your belly.

You’re amazing, baby boy. As I shed my baggage from that traumatic, dark time, I can feel our bond starting to form. I can see glimpses of the light.

You are that light, little guy.

You are the sunshine peeking through the darkness.

Love,

Your battle weary mom

Postpartum World_ICON_4C_Yellow Rattle

 

8 thoughts on “A Letter to my Son

  1. I had a c section. dnc, galbladder removal and spinal headache. I to was robbed. I pmed kevin. please read it when you have time. you arent alone. Misty white.

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  2. Glad you are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Even when we cognitively understand depression, it can be difficult to fully accept it. I know I often feel guilty and angry that I was robbed of that immediate burst of love so many describe and what I witnessed in my husband. To me, feeling that I missed out on important emotions and moments is sometimes the most difficult part. Have you felt this way too?

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    1. It’s sad to me that I never experienced that raw emotion that people describe. Right now I’m so relieved to be on the recovery, so I’m mostly enjoying feeling like myself. I’m hopeful of better things to come as I get more space from the trauma of the postpartum depression. Are you in recovery?

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      1. Yes, I am in recovery. There are definitely better things to come. With every milestone, I am grateful I sought help when I did. I am so much more present as a parent. My LO is 11 months now, and I finally feel like parenthood is what I envisioned.

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      2. That’s awesome! I’m getting there myself. Little Buddy is 8 months old and I’ve been feeling better for about four weeks. I now have the energy to pick him up, play with him…the anxiety is gone. It’s incredible how different it is when you’ve got treatment!

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