“It intensified when I left my parents’ home and went to college. I drastically reduced my food intake. I hate thinking about the look of shock, disappointment, and concern on my mother’s face. She hadn’t seen me since Christmas, so when I came home for Spring Break, my mother was worried sick over my frail appearance. I felt guilty, but not guilty enough to change.”
“Within 24 hours I went from mothering toddlers, to a 7-year-old. I wasn’t sure what to do. We were walking on eggshells, wondering when the lid would blow. I was closing his bedroom door. He stopped me. ‘Mommy, you’re a really good Mom.’ I slid down the door in silent sobs. Those words, coming from that boy, meant more than any accolade I could ever receive.”
“She ran circles around the rest of us, volunteering, coordinating and simply ‘making things happen.’ I, like many, were surprised when her death announcement addressed her struggle with postpartum depression. Her social media portrayed happiness and perfection, never indicating she was suffering.”
“I realized trying to conceal the severity of my symptoms for the sake of ‘keeping my chin up’ was incredibly dangerous. I needed help. My precious baby needed help. My body is forced to keep my baby alive by slowly killing me in the process.”
“I had 3 months to figure out my escape. I stopped fighting back with my daughter’s father and kept calm. He was losing control, and it drove him crazy. ‘You’re not gonna take her from me,’ he’d say. I’d wake up to him pacing the kitchen talking to himself. I stayed quiet and texted a friend who said, ‘Wait 10 minutes, and then you call the cops. He could be lying.’”
“I asked her, ‘How did you do it all with 4 children?’ I will never forget her answer. ‘You find a way to make it work.’ That next month, I got pregnant with our third son! My first class began the exact day I was in the hospital delivering Wyatt.”
“It felt like a bomb went off in our family. My head was swirling with fear, confusion, doubt. We went from being a carefree couple that traveled to full-time caregivers of a medically complex child. Call it intuition, gut instinct. I had no idea what to do or how to do it, but I knew with absolute certainty I was ready.”
“Is there any part of the year that puts more pressure on us women to be ‘snatched’ than summer? After giving birth, swimsuits fit weird and my belly is CLEARLY visible. My rapidly changing size made me doubt what was appropriate for a ‘bigger woman’ at the pool.”
“My wife called and told me she was about to crack. The kids had been arguing all day, and making messes. She’d finally had enough and was hiding in our bedroom to get a break. I told her to calm down. I told her she was over reacting, and it wasn’t that bad.”
“There were no I love you’s. I remember her spending a lot of time in bed, flying off the handle easily, expecting a lot out of everyone while she gave the minimum. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was she a drug addict? Or was she just a bad person? I vow to give my children everything my mom could not give me.”
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