Can We Talk About Postpartum Depression?

Can We Talk About Postpartum Depression?

I looked at my baby with spaghetti sauce all over his face - smiling, innocent - and I wanted to fall in a hole. How did I get here? He was only one year old and had encountered more rage, more shouting than anyone should have to tolerate for a year, much less the only year they'd been alive. He didn't deserve this. None of us did. I was tired of screaming at my husband, him screaming back. Tired of yelling at my perfect cherub during sleepless nights. Tired of feeling so ashamed, so alone, so broken.

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