There is something I have been afraid to share with others, or even say aloud to myself. But, unspoken words have the potential to grow thick like cancer on my tongue. I need to spit them out. I need to name them so I can own them. I need to own them so I can take away their power. I need to tell you.

I had post-partum depression.

I did not know how to mother my own daughter when she was born. I felt frustrated and angry every time she awoke from her naps because I knew I was going to have to hold her. I did not want to hold her. I did not know how to soothe her. I thought her colic was all my fault. At night, the gas would build in her chest and she would cry and cry for hours. I would cringe as I held her while simultaneously wishing I could leave. My children, my home, my life, these miracles that I had fought and waited so long for. I wanted to give them all up.

I was lost. I was desperate. I was angry. I was scared.

I took all my rage out on my husband. I told him I hated him. I told him he was weak. I pushed him away every time he tried to reach for me. I told him I wanted a divorce. I made him feel lonely. I picked fights with him over anything and everything. I spent most of our time together telling him he was wrong. I almost drove him away. I do not know how he had the strength to stay.

I cried in the shower. I cried into my pillow. I cried while driving my car. I cried while changing my daughter's diapers. I couldn't stop crying. I didn't know why.

I thought I was a terrible mother. I felt I had ruined Jack and Molly's life by giving birth to her. I thought I was a monster for feeling this way. Wasn't I the women who had longed for children for five years? I had three miscarriages, went through the rollercoaster of adoption to have my son, went to a fertility specialst to help me carry my daughter to term, and finally had the dream. There were my healthy son and daughter. Why wasn't I happy? Why did I feel like I was going to drown?

The worst part was that I felt so alone in my thoughts. I kept my secret pain locked tight inside. I lived daily with shame. I was terrified if I told someone how unhappy I was, they would take my children away.

And so, I fought it all alone.

I had post-partum depression.

It happened to me. I am a sane and healthy person. I wanted my daughter with every bone in my body. I love my daughter purely and something fierce. I am an excellent mother. S till it happened to me.

It happens to so many women. There is nothing for us to be ashamed of.

So, if you think you might have post-partum. Or, you are just feeling down about being a mother. It's okay. Reach out and share it. There is support out there. Find what you need. I promise their will be women, like me, who understand.