Saying “I do” is Harder Than Saying “I Dont”: My Postpartum Depression Story

Postpartum Depression is defined by GOOGLE DICTIONARY as: “Depression suffered by a mother following childbirth, typically arising from the combination of hormonal changes, psychological adjustment to motherhood, and fatigue.”

This is my story of postpartum depression. Every mother’s is different, and each person has their own way of dealing with it.

Being diagnosed with postpartum depression does NOT make you a bad mom, it does NOT define your parenting, and it is NOT something you should be ever ashamed of.

I knew something was wrong with myself the moment I decided I wanted to sleep more than I wanted to take care of my baby.

Elijah had a rough time falling asleep and staying asleep at night for the first 6ish weeks of his life. I WAS EXHAUSTED! I was breastfeeding my twins, and trying to recover from childbirth. I had a lot of help, but I just always felt tired.

The night I realized I might be suffering from PPD my father in law had woken me up. He told me that Elijah wouldn’t calm down, and that I needed to nurse him. I didn’t even open my eyes when I told him “No he doesn’t, he just nursed. He just wants to use me as a pacifier.”

I passed back out.

My husband tried waking me multiple times, but I just said the same thing over and over.

It took them 3 hours to get me to wake up… 3 hours of my son crying non stop, but I didn’t care, I was tired.

It was that next day that my husband looked at me, and said “I think there is something wrong with you”, and at that point I broke down.

It wasn’t that I felt numb to my children. I didn’t feel like I didn’t want them. I just wanted to sleep… I felt the same way in the hospital after they were born. I cried, a lot. I remember there were points that I would just lay there and sob with my twins in my arms, stuck in a hospital bed.

I was learning how to breastfeed my twins, and I felt like I kept failing because they had a hard time latching. We fed them with bottles of donated breastmilk because I just couldn’t bare to continue to fail them over and over again.

I remember around Christmas, not even a month after they were born, we went into town to pick up a few things. My in-laws wanted to give my husband and I a break. So we left, for a hour. I knew that was all the time I had before they would need to breastfeed again.

I remember while we were out I felt great! I felt normal, I felt less stressed, but on the way home: anxiety hit. I was anxious to get home. I wasn’t ready to be trapped again.

Yes, that’s how I felt: TRAPPED. My kids ran my life now.

I wanted to be a mother. I had waited my whole life for this moment, but yet here I was, almost regretting my decision.

It was rough, and I constantly felt bad for our babies. I constantly felt like I was the worst mom. That I was a bad mom. That my babies deserved better than me..

I decided to talk to someone. I decided that I needed to vent. I needed to tell someone why I thought I was so horrible, and I needed to hear that I wasn’t this terrible person I thought I was.

It took me a couple weeks of seeing a specialist, and a prescription for Zoloft before I started feeling better. Before I started feeling myself again..

My husband and I struggled with infertility. In my pregnancy, I lost one of my triplets. While giving birth I hemorrhaged, and lost 2 liters of blood. I was stuck in bed for two days after my kids were born, and couldn’t get up to help with them. I was so weak that I couldn’t even walk 5 feet without feeling like I was going to pass out. I couldn’t be the mother I wanted to be to my children, and I was devastated.

But, the best thing I did for myself, and my family is: I GOT HELP. The moment I knew something was off with me was the moment I looked into getting help.



I feel like we need to normalize this. We need to let mother’s know that it’s okay to feel this way. It’s okay to reach out, and ask for help.

Know the Signs

Women’s Health Website

Know the signs, and know that it’s okay to ask for help. You’re not in this alone, and you shouldn’t do go through it alone.

2 thoughts on “Saying “I do” is Harder Than Saying “I Dont”: My Postpartum Depression Story

Add yours

  1. Thank you for sharing your story. Your birth, in itself, sounds like a traumatic experience. I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your third triplet, that is heartbreaking. You’re a great mama for seeking help when you needed to, and for openly talking about this subject for other mamas to know they are not alone, and how beneficial getting help can really be. Thank you.


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