I hate to focus too much on postpartum depression (PPD), but I believe my experience may be somewhat unique compared to other mothers. The sensation of feeling powerless is one thing, but truly grasping the extent of that powerlessness is another. For a while, I felt like I was managing things well. But then, everything shifted. We’re incredibly lucky to have the amazing support of my aide, Sommer, who assists me and the baby. When Chris began returning to work, there was a brief overlap where he would leave just before Sommer arrived. Most mornings, after his 5 AM bottle, the baby typically falls back asleep, but on one fateful day, we skipped that feeding, and Gideon decided to wake up during that small window.

That morning, I found myself lying in bed, listening to my baby cry, feeling utterly powerless to help him. Those 15 minutes life-changing. To be clear, Gideon was safe in his crib, securely swaddled, and in no danger at all. Yet, like many babies, he wanted to eat as soon as he woke up, and if I wasn’t ready to attend to him, he let out a wail. In those moments, I felt more frustrated with my disability than ever before. The helplessness was overwhelming. I cried alongside Gideon, trying to comfort him even as my own heart broke.

Thoughts raced through my mind: “I’m a terrible mother,” “He’s going to resent me,” “I’m damaging him for life,” “They were right about me,” “I shouldn’t be a mother,” “Maybe I should just disappear,” “They’re going to take him from me.”

I’ve wrestled with whether to share this experience countless times. I’m not seeking sympathy or validation; I just want to shed light on my journey as a mother. I know what it’s like to feel powerless. I depend on others to help me get up, dress, eat, and even go to the bathroom. I understand the pain of calling out for help and having no one respond. I would never want my son to feel that way.

Once the moment passed, Gideon was all smiles just seconds after being picked him up from his crib. Yet, even two weeks later, I was still haunted by anxiety every time he cried. I found myself watching him sleep, ensuring he never felt alone, while feeling guilt each time he let out a whimper. It was a confusing time; I felt like I was losing my grip on reality and, somewhere deep down, I thought I deserved it. Meanwhile, my husband, friends, and family were worried about me, reminding me that I wasn’t a bad mother and that my unique circumstances meant Gideon would be a little different too. Even my doctor reassured me that it was okay to let a baby cry sometimes. Still, I couldn’t silence the critical voices in my head. I recognized they weren’t my usual thoughts, but tied to my postpartum struggles.

After confiding in friends and family, I decided to reach out to my doctor about my postpartum anxiety. I felt a pull to seek help, a nudge I had been ignoring in my quest to appear strong. But the more I resisted, the more anxious and irritable I became with my loved ones and my baby. The morning after starting my mood stabilizer, I expected to feel numb but instead felt like myself again. Within days, laughter returned to my life, and now, two weeks later, I can genuinely express my gratitude to my doctor for being supportive and non-judgmental about my challenges.

I continue to navigate the complexities of postpartum anxiety and depression, but with the help of a counselor and my community, I’m confident that I’ll be okay. Gideon is thriving and remains the happiest little baby! He’s incredibly bright and irresistibly cute! I adore my little squish with all my heart and can’t wait to witness him grow into a strong man, just like his Daddy!