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The night I gave birth to my son was pretty rocky. I had an allergic reaction to my epidural, my blood pressure dropped and I was given medicine that made my heart race, and the medical team had great difficulty delivering my son. Once my son was delivered, I noticed the medical team didn’t call his time of birth for a while. I knew what that meant–things weren’t going very well. When they tried to move me to another room, I kept passing out. Along with this, I didn’t get to see my little guy for very long because he was rushed to the special care nursery. It was an entire day before I could hold him. Although I was released to go home, my son stayed in the care of the nurses and doctors to treat severe jaundice.

Once my son was home, we endured many sleepless nights and days. Not only did my son not sleep, but he also did not want to be held. I couldn’t make him better or comfort him at all. This lack of sleep and feelings of failure led to depression and anxiety. I would try to tell someone how I felt, and they would either brush me off or tell me that I needed to suck it up. My husband didn’t understand what was going on with me.
I withdrew into myself and just survived day-to-day. I tried my best to care for my son and would quietly fall to pieces at night when no one could see me. It was a miracle I survived this challenge. There were many times when I thought about checking myself into a hospital for psychiatric care, but I talked myself out of it.

Since that time, I have received therapy and found healing. It is a long road and it takes constant work, but improvement can come. Some days are worse than others, but I have more good days than bad. I am so thankful for this website; it can help many people. It helps to be able to support each other–sometimes all it takes is someone who understands.

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