I have PPD.

Post partum depression.

I literally feel like my chest is closing in on me, reading those words.

I suspected it for awhile, but the official diagnosis came this past Wednesday morning after a sob-filled, hyperventilating discussion with my OB.  I just kept sliding downhill.  & as much as I knew it was a possibility & as much of an advocate as I am for getting help, I’ve been terrified to admit it or face it.  I just kept thinking it was all circumstantial & would get better.  First it was the screaming.  It will get better when that stops.  It will get better when I get used to work.  It will get better when I’m off birth control.  It will get better when my period stops.

But it just keeps getting worse.  Until I began feeling like my entire life was shutting down at a speed that I cannot keep up with.

To be honest – this is an incredibly hard post to write.  I want to assure you that I never have & never will hurt Harrison.  I am getting help in both therapy & medication now, but I am ashamed to say that it took me four months to realize that the thoughts & feelings I have are not normal.  I am afraid.   Nate is scared, but being strong.  & my family is worried but offering incredible support – I am lucky to have them.  But I am grasping to the hope that there me be a light in front of me…eventually.  The simple admission is already making me shake as I type, but it would be an injustice to myself & anyone else suffering to keep this quite.

Because the term “suffering” from postpartum depression has never felt more accurate.