I have been blessed to have an amazing friend and mom write a post for us. The Queen - from DeBie Hive has written about her experience with Postpartum Depression:

I kept telling myself that I was fine, that it would go away, that I could ignore it and it would all magically get better somehow.

I knew that I was lying to myself, but I did it anyway.

I knew that there was something very wrong with me, but I pretended like everything was fine.

I even knew what was wrong with me, and still I did nothing.

I'm quitting Weight Watchers.

This isn't a huge deal since I was never really all that into it in the first place. I have friends that loved it and lost weight on it and still use it as a maintenance tool and that is wonderful. I'm not knocking it (so please don't try to change my mind in the comments!).

I decided to quit Weight Watchers after my father called me fat on the phone today.

Let me explain…

Kelly DeBie is Queen of DeBie Hive, an amazing blogger and a wonderful friend of this blog. I cannot thank her enough for her bravery and her honesty.

To most people who know me, I probably seem like your average suburban minivan driving mom of four. I have a busy schedule and get my kids where they need to be on time almost all the time. I rarely leave the house without doing my makeup and make a point to create the illusion that I'm all together and stable and normal, whatever normal is. 

I have had it. I AM DONE. This is not irrational Depression and Anxiety anger - this is honest to goodness RIGHTEOUS ANGER that has filled me to the brim and is now spilling out of my very pores while I write this.

I read this same article every once in a while. Every single time I recognize myself. Every single time I feel the pain and the shame all over again. Every single time the anger comes in and I am grateful for that because it makes me strong. Sometimes the anger is the only source of strength I can tap into. There's another article about Postpartum Depression going around. It's not so much about PPD but about how little progress has been made in the acknowledgement and treatment of the disease. I'd like to say that I was surprised, but I can't.

He's sleeping!

I used to say, and truly believe, that all I wanted was a happy, rested baby. Of course I'm human though, so as soon as that need has been met Maslow kicks me in the ass.

This is supposed to be where I tell the truth, so here it is: the better he gets - the worse I feel.  I don't feel bad because he feels better - don't everyone go all nutty one me. It's simply that as the layers of worry and fear fall away other feelings start to poke their way into my brain. There's no more running. My brain is working again - and that isn't necessarily a good thing.