At PSI, we understand that storytelling has the power to save lives, and we are honored to provide a space for survivors to share their stories. This article is part of a subsection of the PSI blog dedicated to survivor stories. Please note that this story has not been edited, and caution is advised as distressing themes related to perinatal mental health may be present. If there are specific trigger warnings for an article, they will be listed below. Links to resources can be found at the bottom of this page.
To stop and write about my story has taken time, healing, reflection, and strength. My journey to get here was full of pain, darkness, acceptance, and love.
After losing two babies, on August 20 at 8:38 am we welcomed rainbow baby Calvin William into this world. After an induction, epidural, and exactly two hours of pushing I experienced one of the best feelings mentally and physically; to have him on me instead of in me. Without much time to bond, he was off to the NICU for low blood sugar and jaundice. Our experience here was bittersweet — while he wasn’t physically with us, we learned so much from Calvin’s NICU nurses who loved him in his first hours/days like their own son.
Fast-forward to coming home, I spent weeks crying for no reason, healing physically, trying to teach my body how to feed this tiny human, and trying to form a love with someone I hardly knew.
At six weeks postpartum my world changed completely. I woke up on a Sunday in the darkest, scariest place I’ve ever been. My anxiety and depression were debilitating. My team decided it was time for me to accept medication, immediately. I hated this but knew it was a necessity. I suddenly had a pharmacy in my kitchen, one that continued to grow as we tried to find the cocktail of pills that worked for me. I couldn’t eat, drink, or sleep for some time – I didn’t have the physical energy to care for Calvin, nor even take my dog outside to pee. I wanted to eat, I wanted to help, and I wanted to feel better more than anything in my life before. I physically could not. The pharmacy expanded and doctors appointments were scheduled almost daily.
My manic, anxious episodes became so bad that we decided the ER was the best and safest place for me to be. We spent 14 hours in a psych hallway with nothing but a bed, a plastic chair, and a TV high on the wall. I finally got accepted into an inpatient facility where I entered voluntarily. This placement opened my eyes to the world of mental health – how affected our society is and how resources for it are so minimal. After 24 hours it was determined this was not the right placement for postpartum. I came home and several weeks later Calvin and I were admitted into a day hospital program in Rhode Island which specializes in postpartum depression and anxiety. I immediately knew this was where we belonged. This along with medication management finally got me to a place of stability, light, and promise. I was thinking clearly and finally looked forward to the future.
Calvin is now four months old and I spend many days reflecting on where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. I can take care of him on my own; I sincerely love him and want to spend all my days being his mom. While I spent weeks not accepting it, the love I received through this struggle is undeniable. There are so many people I owe my life to. I’m thankful. I’m humbled.
While mine is not over, I tell my story to educate current and future mommas that your journey through conception, pregnancy, birth and postpartum is individual and unique. Social media has convinced us that this process is easy, mindless, and flawless. I’m here to tell you how far from the truth this can be. While beautiful, it is raw and confusing. Remember to make time for yourself. Give yourself grace. Embrace each chapter. You are not alone. You are enough.
Get Help
Learn More about Perinatal Mental Health Disorders
Free, Online Peer Support Groups, including Perinatal Mood Support
