I know I’ve written about it before…but I think it’s fresh on my mind as this baby continues to grow in my belly.  What will happen when this one is born?  I didn’t have post-partum depression with my oldest.  I guess I managed a new baby well, it all seems a blur now.  Ella came into this world with great fanfare, which is no surprise considering her flair for the dramatic.  I was attempting to breast feed for the second time, the first having been a huge disaster, lasting all of one week before I threw my hands up and said THIS was not for me. I’m sure I already had anxiety going into her birth…and coupled with the dropping temps and the close quarters…maybe all of it was just one messy cocktail of despair just waiting to happen.  It’s weird putting it out there…admitting that what was supposed to be one of the most joyous events in my life filled me with a sense of disconnect I had never known before.  Vann had a huge meeting at work and was unable to stay with me during the days in the hospital.  His parents had driven up from Tennessee to stay with Charlie, who was sick at the time.  I guess I should have been grateful for the peace and quiet.  But I wasn’t.  I was lonely.  And sad to have my Mom and Dad so far away.  They all had tickets to come the week of Thanksgiving, and when she unexpectedly came early, we urged them to keep their plans, Charlie was in good hands and it was a good chance to bond with the baby. Bonding was the furthest thing from my mind.  Every time a nurse would bring her to me I would cringe.  I was terrified of nursing and terrified of being left alone with her.  This precious 5 pound, 8 ounce bundle of joy with her shock of black (!!) hair was a foreign thing to me, even though I had done this once before. The real problem came when we got home.  After the family visited and my Mom stayed to help.  After the meals from our church stopped, Vann went back to work, life resumed for all.  I was paralyzed. A lactation consultant came to the house and confirmed that the baby was gaining weight, which was amazing and filled me with a sense of pride I thought I might never know.  But she also confirmed what I thought was wrong with me – the baby had thrush and had passed it to me.  I was miserable.  When I went in to see my Doctor she examined me and disagreed.  No, she said, you’re fine.  But I wasn’t fine.  And I couldn’t get anyone to listen to me.  It was the beginning of January, Christmas decorations were put away and the negative temps had arrived.  At that point Charlie was going to stay with Vann’s parents again for a week or so and I was planning on staying at home with Ella to sleep and nest and do all of those good things you do when you have a newborn in your home. The night before Vann was to drive her to Indiana she got an ear infection and he had to take her to the Walgreens clinic for antibiotics.  I remember standing in the living room in our apartment, watching him get her dressed.  It was as if this giant hole opened up in front of me, and all I could see was blackness.  Truly, I thought I might never feel anything but hopelessness again.  With a shaky voice, I asked my husband if Ella and I could go with on the roadtrip.  I remember him looking at me with such tenderness, as if I might break into a million tiny pieces, a Mommy china doll.  Well of course he took us with him, I’m sure he feared leaving me alone.  And although I never experienced hallucinations or anything of that nature, my depression was certainly more than just the “baby blues”.  It was real, and I was suffering.  Shortly after this, I remember sitting with my mom’s group at church and breaking down.  I’ll never forget their sweetness, their love for me – their support and prayers.  Some recommended going to talk to someone.  Some recommended medication – “for such a time as this”.  But all confirmed the ugly truth of what was going on in my heart.  And I needed help, because I couldn’t conquer this alone. So I sought help and got on some medication and it made a difference.  And just about the time I really needed some vitamin D the weather got a little better each and every day – and I was able to trek all over our neighborhood with my girls in the double jogger.  Truly, the sun was a Godsend.  Last week our MOPS speaker was a woman who had gone through the same thing, and although her case was more serious than mine, it was still as if she hit an exposed nerve.  I loved what she had to say about how to support your fellow mamas who struggle through this disease. “Don’t let them be alone”, she said, “even if it disrupts your routine and schedule.  All she needs is someone to BE with, so she doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.”  I loved that because that’s just what my friends did for me.  Motherhood is hard enough.  I think sometimes in life we reach a bottom and we know that we can’t face the adversity alone.  Our husbands love us the best way that they know how, but there’s really nothing like the support and tenderness that a fellow warrior can bring us.  What would we do without our communities?  After all, God designed us to need that in our lives.  So friends, as we become a family of five in September, I definitely welcome your prayers.  The circumstances are very different this time around, but as I’ve struggled through depression for much of my adult life I know that I am not bulletproof.  It is ok.  I will be ok.