Postpartum Depression

Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop

May 11, 2017

Before I had my daughter, I had dreams of postpartum being a time when I finally slowed down. I’m a person who is often going a mile-a-minute, juggling several too many things at once. I told myself that once I had someone else that needed me to relax a little, I might actually do it. Ha!

My daughter’s birth was complicated and in the six weeks following, I was incredibly eager to get back to feeling like ‘myself’ again (whatever that means). I hosted, cooked, Facetimed, did laundry and as soon as I could, I was back outside walking the neighbourhood (albeit to my favourite bakery). My family and care providers were amazing, they did their best to get me back into bed/on the couch/in the bath but I couldn’t do it. At the time, going back to my pre-baby self was totally what I thought I needed but I didn’t exactly give my body or mind much time to just be.

When I became pregnant with my son, I thought often of my time postpartum with Eleanor and how I would like for this time to be different. My son Clark’s birth was much more straightforward so the day after Clark was born, there I was sitting in my bed, sunlight streaming through the window, a hot cup of tea on my nightstand and soaking in my newborn. It was lovely and wholesome and just what I had hoped for this time around. I think my care providers and family would have preferred that I stayed this way for a little longer than a hot minute. But that’s not me. I know that now and that’s okay. You do you, mama.




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