Exiting the Darkness {My Journey through Postpartum Depression}

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Standing in my garage, I reached out to feel the warm rain, hoping no one would see me like this. My face was sticky from the tears that wouldn’t stop, even though I knew I didn’t have a reason to cry. It was supposed to be a joyful day, at least according to all the Birthday wishes posted on my Facebook wall. I felt I was drowning. Not drowning because of motherhood, but because of something else—something that I couldn’t control or pinpoint. A cloud hovered over me and I couldn’t shake it.

My husband had our one vehicle, my four older children were watching a movie, and my three-week-old baby was peacefully sleeping. How I longed for sleep, too. I was tired. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I couldn’t string thoughts together. While feeling the rain felt good, too much tactile stimuli felt overwhelming, so the closest I could get to going outside was to stand at the edge of my garage. I felt trapped, even though I loved my children and was grateful to have this precious new baby.

To continue reading about my journey through Postpartum Depression, as well as tips on how to recover, please visit The Humbled Homemaker, where I'm honored to guest post today.