I recently opened up on Instagram about postpartum depression. This is something many don’t want to talk about, especially while experiencing it, but lately I’ve felt led to share my story because I know so many other women have dealt with this.
Many years ago I prayed for a path — my path — a path that wasn’t designed for someone else, but for me specifically. I prayed this prayer as a young girl, as a young teen, and as an adult. Little by little, God began to show me His plan for my life. But first I went through some things.
Allow me to dive in and share my story with you.
March 27th of 2016, we anxiously welcomed our beautiful baby girl into this world. She was all I ever hoped for and everything that my dreams were made of. Her delicate hands and fingers; her soft little toes; her sweet, beautiful little lips; her clear, lovely complexion; her ocean blue eyes, and even that milk curdling cry of hers — what more could I have asked for?! She was absolute perfection.
I was completely exhausted, but I was over-the-moon enamored. Everything she did
In August of 2016, my little family of three moved across the country to Arizona. We had no family there, no friends, a new house, a new city, and no familiarity with anything. That’s when I noticed things change for me.
I’ve been through the moving process before — that part wasn’t new to me, but this time it was different. Don’t get me wrong, I was still completely enamored and captivated by my little peanut. My husband was supportive and wonderful, and we were super excited about moving to a new place, but all of the signs of depression I hadn’t noticed before because of the hustle and bustle started to surface.
My daughter was 4 months old, and I was battling postpartum depression.
I know I’m not the only one that has gone through this; that’s why I felt the need to share my story.
I had slipped into another state of mind — one that only allowed certain things to slip through: my baby’s cry, the longing desire to hold her without feeling guilty for being so wrapped up in my secret depression . . . but mostly, numbness — the kind that leaves you staring at blank walls for hours, thinking, but about nothing.
Some days I was okay — great even — but other days I would only move from the couch because my baby needed me. My little girl was/is my world. She didn’t deserve a mommy that was down in the dumps. The guilt made me feel worse, so I pretended that the loneliness wasn’t eating away the happiness I felt just months ago. This may sound melodramatic to some, but I know the ones that need to read this will understand.
I desperately desired to have someone to share this with that would understand. I talked to my husband, and he was always there for me, but he didn’t understand exactly what I was going through. How could he? I didn’t know how to tell him. That was frustrating. I was so scared to tell my doctor. What if someone tried to take my baby away?! That terrible, frightening thought always crept into my mind and captivated me.
I was just so lonely.
One day, something snapped inside of me.
I told myself enough is enough.
I got down on my knees and I prayed with all of my might.
I prayed like I’ve never prayed before, with absolute and complete desperation.
I rebuked the fear.
I rebuked the loneliness.
I asked God in utmost sincerity to make Himself known to me again.
I needed my joy back — the joy that I hadn’t felt in so long.
I gave everything to my Creator that day.
I held nothing back.
After pouring my heart out, He whispered, “You are NOT alone.”
The words were almost tangible. I felt them, and for the first time, I believed them. I spoke them. I sobbed until I had no tears left. My head was pounding, my muscles were tired, my heart had ached all of its aches away. I just sat there, limp, allowing this breakthrough to process. A peace that only God can give enveloped me.
He loves me. He loves me so much that He gave His life for me. He loves me so much that He longed to tell me He was always there but I had allowed all of the loudness of my hurt to drown out His voice. He loved me so much that He spoke to me to remind me I am NOT alone.
Things didn’t change for me overnight, but my mentality and outlook were different from that point on. When I felt the sadness return, I prayed.
I needed something to keep me busy. I needed a hobby — so I created Hair by Hannah.
God, saved me from a path I wasn’t supposed to follow. Rekindling my passion for hair and making it a hobby again saved me.
God also sent me a friend. She lived 5 minutes from me, and she had a son only two weeks older than my daughter. We did almost everything together. Our kids became best friends. We have since moved away from each other, but God brought us together because He knew we needed one another in that season.
Depression wasn’t the path God wanted me to stay on, but I believe He was able to use it to push me to the place I needed to be.
Now, almost three years later, I feel like I’m on the path that God intended for me. I am so thankful, so grateful, so humbled and so blessed to be loved by Him.
It really is true: He’s our healer, our way maker, our provider, our shelter, our physician. He is my best friend. He listens when I complain, when I rejoice, when I hurt, when I praise, when I’m broken, and when I’m weary. He’s always waiting with loving, open arms saying, “YOU ARE NOT ALONE.”
If you struggle with depression or postpartum depression — don’t be ashamed. Please remember, you are not alone. Seek help. Talk to a professional. Talk to God. You are loved, and you are NOT alone.
So much love and prayers for you all. May God bless you and keep you.
Until next time,
Hugs and blessings —