Updated: Mar 16, 2020
They all say there is a calm before the storm but,
I wanna know when the storm ends though.
I've always struggled with my mental health.
from depression as a teenager,
to an abusive relationship leading to a case of post traumatic stress disorder.
So on September 11th 2013,
When the doctors laid this beautiful fresh baby girl on my chest, and I cried.
I knew something was wrong.
I told my husband to take her.
I told my husband to hold her, and show her to everyone.
I didn't want to touch her.
That's so unbelievably sad, and scary for me as a mom to admit.
but I didn't want to, I waited and waited to feel the over joyed sensation of motherhood, and I wanted to feel that amazing bond mothers have with their children.
I wanted it so f*cking badly, and I didn't know how to have it.
I cried a lot when Alice was a baby.
This is something I've never put out into the world before and I never really planned to,
but nobody talks about this... Everyone has their own story, and opinions- this is mine.
I thought being a mom was going to be like a fairytale.
I thought it would make me happy instantly.
So of course, I felt I was broken for not feeling this way.
I thought I was broken because this tiny baby depended on me, and I didn't know how to communicate. I didn't know how to ask for help. So I'd raise my voice. I'd scream if she cried too much... I'd break down and cry for hours. Of course, I never physically hurt her. I'd make sure she was in a safe space, and leave the room...
I depended on CJ to take care of her during the night,
and at all hours he was home with us.
I couldn't do it.
and you know what?
I was broken.
I was suffering from severe postpartum depression, and I knew it.
So I got put on medication,
and it made me feel like a zombie, it was awful.
I refused to get out of bed for weeks.
So I stopped taking them.
Then there was Axel, and I got a bit better. My guess is it was from pregnancy hormones or something. So I could control my anger. I could control my temper.
When Axel was 14 months old,
I remember one of the worst days of motherhood.
The minis weren't listening.
I was bawling on the floor in their bedroom, while they ran circles around me.
I had way to high of expectations for such tiny humans.
CJ, helped me up off the floor and walked me into our bedroom.
He told me to take a nap, while he took his kids to his parents house for dinner.
He knew I needed a break, he knew how to fix the situation to keep everyone calm.
He knew how to take care of me, and our minis.
I am not anywhere close to being the best mom.
I did things the wrong way.
I didn't get the help I truly needed until my kids had already formed memories of me,
memories of me screaming,
of me crying.
of me not being strong, not being a good mom.
I am medicated, properly now.
I have my temper under control.
Because my illness is serious, and scary, and I need help to be okay.
And you know what? That's okay.
It is no different from someone taking their heart burn medication, or their blood pressure medication. Without my mental health being a focus, I'm a mess.
One big spicy disaster.
My kids have memories of me going out of my way to make them smile.
Yes, I still get mad- but I don't lose control.
My kids have a mentally healthy mama.
But, it is still a struggle to be okay.
I'm still trudging through my storm.
Every single day.
I know I haven't been here in awhile.
I'm sorry- I blame the storm for lack of motivation.
I haven't had the courage.
but here I am,
screaming as loud as I know how...
It's okay to not be okay!
It's okay to need help.
It is okay.
Nation Suicide Hotline. 1-800-273-8255
Xo- Mini Mitchells