Nathan wasn't much of a sleeper.
So neither was I.
I kept going.
Work.
School.
Motherhood.
Repeat.
I was running on little to no sleep, but I kept telling myself that I had to keep moving. There was a baby who needed me. There was work that needed to be done. There was schoolwork that needed to be finished.
So I kept pushing.
I was exhausted from caring for this baby all by myself, but somehow I convinced myself that exhaustion was just part of being a mom.
I didn't realize that I was running on empty.
Until my body and my mind finally said:
Enough.
I Was Spiraling
Little by little, I began to spiral into a place of depression and confusion.
I didn't understand what was happening to me.
I was blessed.
I had a beautiful, healthy baby boy.
I had survived a life-threatening experience.
I was working.
I was going to school.
From the outside, it probably looked like I was doing it all.
But inside, I was struggling.
And I didn't know how to explain it.
Then something happened that almost seems ironic looking back.
I had just finished one of my courses and earned an A.
I should have been celebrating.
Instead, I was exhausted.
My body had been keeping score even when I wasn't paying attention.
I had spent so long pushing myself to accomplish everything that I didn't realize just how empty I had become.
The Diagnosis
Eventually, I went to see a doctor.
That's when I learned that what I was experiencing was postpartum depression.
At the time, I didn't understand that going to the doctor was actually an act of self-love.
I thought I was simply trying to figure out what was wrong with me.
But now, when I look back, I see it differently.
I chose myself.
I admitted that I wasn't okay.
I asked for help.
And I allowed someone else to help take care of me when I had spent so much time taking care of everyone else.
That was self-love.
Not a bubble bath.
Not a vacation.
Not a new outfit.
Not a perfect morning routine.
Self-love was saying, “I need help.”
And that may have been one of the first real acts of self-love I ever gave myself.
What I Know Now
I've learned that self-love doesn't always look the way we expect it to.
Sometimes it's quiet.
Sometimes it's uncomfortable.
Sometimes it requires you to admit that you can't do everything by yourself.
Sometimes loving yourself means going to the doctor.
Sometimes it means resting.
Sometimes it means setting a boundary.
Sometimes it means saying no.
And sometimes it means admitting:
“I'm not okay, and I need help.”
There is no shame in that.
In fact, there can be tremendous strength in it.
I had spent so much of my life believing that being strong meant handling everything myself.
But I was learning something new:
Being strong doesn't mean you never need help.
It means having the courage to recognize when you do.
And this was only the beginning of understanding what self-love would eventually mean to me.
Because I still had a lot to learn about myself.
I had survived.
I had become a mother for the first time.
I had gone back to school.
I had accomplished things I was proud of.
But underneath all of that, there were parts of me that still needed attention.
Parts of me that needed to be seen.
Parts of me that needed to heal.
And I was just beginning to understand that healing wasn't something I could accomplish by simply staying busy.
Tomorrow, I'll share more about what happened as I continued trying to balance motherhood, work, school, and finding myself again.
This journey was about to become much deeper than I ever expected.
To be continued... ❤️