My first Mother’s Day was one of desperation. I was desperate to appear and feel normal. To want to soak in the whole day bathed in the glow of motherhood. The pictures I have from that day are bittersweet – I can see the depression and anxiety in my eyes.
Last year, I was honored to write for the Postpartum Progress Mother’s Day Rally for Mental Health. I wrote my post while not yet knowing I was 4 weeks pregnant. By the time Mother’s Day arrived and the post was published, my antenatal depression was in full swing and everything I had written – all that truth – vanished behind depression’s ugly curtain.
This year, I am now a mother to two girls. Two amazing, breathtaking girls.
I have had rough patches since No2’s birth. She’s suffered from a milk protein intolerance for four months, making even survival a lofty goal at times. I’ve battled anxiety’s ugly demons often. But all along I have adored her. If you’ve never suffered from a postpartum mood disorder, that may sound strange. But it’s all I ever wanted with No1 – to love her more than I feared her.
And this Mother’s Day, I have it.