Warrior Mom Samantha F. shares her story:

"Emily Adaline is the name we gave her when she was born. But to us she will always be our Bean. My daughter was very much wanted, planned for and beautiful. She is the perfect combination of my husband’s cute nose and my sleepy eyes. When I pushed her out, I felt then as if I had just pushed out my spirit. My heart was still there, but now it existed on the outside of my body. That is when the feelings and questions started to wander around in my head. Why was I so afraid of her? Why did I feel like my world had just ended? How could I not want her?

The first night she came home, I stared at her like she was a time bomb. I stayed awake for 36 hours straight just waiting for her to scream. She never did, of course. My husband and our daughter lay there sound asleep while I felt as if I was going to crawl out of my skin. All I wanted to do was hide. I knew something was wrong and I needed to get help before it got out of hand. My head ached from the constant crying. The anxiety had its angry hold on me and would not let go.

I contacted my doctor and they diagnosed me with postpartum depression. Little did I know that this was the most common complication of childbirth. I was started on an antidepressant right away. It was troubling that I would have to take a pill to cope, but I did it. I was no use to my daughter in this condition. It took a few weeks for the medication to kick in, and in the meantime my friends and family made a huge fuss over me. Even my daughter’s pediatrician called to check on me. I felt as if I needed to leave, so they could move on with their lives. I would call my husband and ask him why he stayed with us. I would tell him that I had ruined his life. He would tell me over and over again that I was his life. Our daughter was his life. He would never leave us and I had only made his life better by giving him a perfect baby girl. He would beg me to get better and say that he missed his wife so much. I didn’t know then, but the only thing that would truly make me better was time.

I took the days literally minute by minute. Baby steps I call it. I know that a lot of this will never make sense to anyone. It still breaks my heart that I was not able to enjoy the first months of my daughter’s life because of my depression. I am happy to say, though, that I am much better.

I am thankful that I had a support system to lend a hand when I needed it most. My neighbors, family and friends did not allow me to be alone. They picked up the slack while I recovered. My husband made sure I was getting sleep. He was actually the primary caregiver for the first month of our daughter’s life. I would call him at work and sob on the phone. Not once did he complain. He just listened to me. That’s what I needed most. Our Bean is now 9 months old and is perfect. I look back on those first couple months after we brought our daughter home not with a sense of shame but one of achievement. I went to battle with postpartum depression and I won."