Dear Anonymous

Standard

This is not your fault. And I promise it’ll get better now that you realize something is off. Now you just need to do one more thing: call your doctor. Call any doctor. Call your OB. Just call someone. I promise they will be able to help you. If you need someone to talk to, send me another message and give me your email address: I would be glad to email and/or call you.

I didn’t think it was postpartum depression either. Until one beautiful fall day. I stayed home from work and sent my son to daycare. I cleaned the house, paid the bills, and made a list for my husband of everything that he needed to know about running our household. And I did it because I was planning on killing myself. I didn’t want to die. But I believed with all my heart that my husband and son were going to be so much better off when I was gone because I was such a failure. I look back at that day and want to weep; how could I have thought that? The answer is because I wasn’t me then. I thank God for my husband leaving work early and coming home that day because he thought something was off. Please don’t let yourself get to that point before getting help.

Please don’t see this as a failure on your part. It’s not. It’s a medical condition. What would you do if you broke a leg? Or had bronchitis? You would go to the doctor to seek medical treatment. This is no different.

You will be okay. You will bond with your child. I promise you. And yes, running might help you to some degree. But it will do nothing unless you seek medical help as well. Please call. I promise it will get better. I am proof: I am happy and healthy and hopelessly in love with my little boy. But I had to call and get help.

Sending love and prayers. This is not your fault.

http://www.postpartum.net/

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3 responses »

  1. To whomever this blog post is written about, please listen to this young lady. She is so very wise and I’m humbled to call her my friend. She has helped me in more ways than she realizes. I love you, Laura!!

  2. Love you, mama. You are so strong to write this. PPD is not something I would wish on my worst enemy…I still shudder at the thoughts that “that me” had…but you’re right: that wasn’t me. I remember people telling me, “OH! Isn’t motherhood just the BEST!?” as they gushed over my infant…and I would nod my head with a hollow smile, thinking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, idiot…”. Once my PPD was addressed, I finally realized.
    To Anonymous: please, please, please get help. It’s hard as hell to make that phone call, I know, but once you do, you’re finally on the road to freedom…to yourself…to the best time of your life.

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