Being a mom isn’t for the faint of heart. Motherhood and mental health is definitely something that needs to be talked about, but even I shied away from the topic. I remember the night I finally had a breakdown and realized I needed help. Sitting in my car in the garage, alone, just so that I could cry for a few minutes in the quiet. “I think I have postpartum depression,” I shakily told my husband through tears. For some reason, admitting my struggle made it real. I felt like I had failed. Like postpartum depression was somehow the result of something I was doing wrong. As hard as it was for me to admit that I was struggling, I knew that I needed help. My girls needed a mom who could be present. They needed a mom who could be happy and smile and play. I couldn’t continue lying to myself and my family, playing “fine” when I wasn’t. continued on page 56...
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