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A Letter to My Sons About Postpartum Depression
Hey there, my dear boys,
I owe you an apology. I’m truly sorry that I’m not the kind of mom I envisioned for you. This isn’t how I pictured things turning out. Instead of laughter and joy, I find myself wrestling with sadness, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. I wish I could be the fun mom who sings silly songs while we make art or runs around with you in the park, catching crayfish and enjoying ice cream for lunch. I long to create playdough masterpieces and celebrate quirky days like Dress Like a Pirate Day in style.
But there are days when getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain. I fumble through breakfast, relying on the TV to fill the silence. I can’t find the energy to sing, and sometimes, my heart feels heavier than my body. The afternoons drag on, and fun projects seem impossible. Everything feels dull and constricting. This isn’t the life I wanted for us, and it definitely isn’t what I wanted for you.
They call it postpartum depression. It’s a tricky mix of hormones and chemicals that leaves me feeling disconnected and lost. Happiness feels like a distant memory, a dream I can’t quite grasp. Some days it’s just out of reach, a fleeting thought that hangs in the air.
Please know that my sadness has nothing to do with you. It exists alongside the incredible joy you bring into my life, which makes it all the more painful. I find myself snapping when I should be laughing, and sometimes I need to remind myself to embrace you—because in my sadness, I can forget to show you just how much I love you. And when I forget, it makes my heart ache even more.
I want to be clear: being unhappy doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Even on the toughest days, when my stress boils over and I raise my voice, I still cherish our moments together. I adore you when you create chaos in the kitchen or give our dog an unexpected makeover. Each time I wake up in the stillness of the night, I’m reminded of my love for you, even amid my struggles.
I love you deeply, my sweet ones. Some days, love feels like an empty space, and I push through the motions. I take comfort in remembering that love is an action, not a feeling, and I hope my efforts are enough for you.
This depression doesn’t make sense. It’s a thief that steals joy, precious moments, and the picture-perfect experiences that other moms seem to have. People often tell me to enjoy every second, but when life feels like a constant battle, it’s hard to appreciate the beauty around me. Those who talk about how quickly babies grow may not see the fog I’m navigating. They mean well, but depression’s invisibility can make it seem like I’m just floating through life when, in reality, I’m struggling.
This illness has taken so much from us, but it can never take you away from me. No matter how dark it gets, I have you to care for, and that gives me strength. Even when I feel empty, I make sure you know you are loved. I may feel heavy, but I embrace you. I kiss you despite my pain. I want nothing but the best for you, and I am your mom, no matter how broken I may feel at times.
I have you, and that’s enough for us both.
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Summary
This heartfelt letter expresses a mother’s struggle with postpartum depression while reassuring her sons of her unwavering love for them. Despite the challenges, she emphasizes the importance of her role as a mother and her commitment to nurturing them.