My experience with postpartum depression is not easy for me to talk about (or write about.) There are very few people in this world who I have opened up to about my struggles with depression, but I am writing this article in an attempt to help anyone who may be going through what I went through. I had a tough time finding helpful articles about postpartum depression when I needed them most. So, I hope this helps you in some way, or at least makes you feel a little less alone in your struggles.

It started with the "baby blues" almost immediately after I gave birth to my beautiful baby. Every single day for about 3 weeks after birth, I felt overwhelmed with uncontrollable emotion. I would start crying for no reason multiple times a day. My poor husband had no idea why I was crying (neither did I), but he took it like a champ and would hold me while I cried. I spent most nights crying in the shower. My entire day was spent holding back tears, so whenever I was alone, they would just burst out and I would just let them come and cry it out.

At this point, I wasn't super concerned because Dr. Google told me that "baby blues" was somewhat normal as your body experiences such a huge drop in hormones right after giving birth. I understood that it would take a little while for my body to adjust to being "unpregnant." So I waited it out and the tears slowly dried up, day by day.

Then came the exhaustion, hiding, dread, loss of appetite, imminent doom, and irrational fears that felt so very real to me that it took 5 months for me to realize that I was suffering from a major bout of depression. I continued to suffer for another 8 months before I sought professional help.

For me, PPD was a variety of different symptoms that were essentially sucking the life out of me and leaving me feeling exhausted, lazy, unmotivated, horrified, and scatterbrained, all at the same time. I was stuck in a cycle of never-ending repetitive thoughts that my worst fears were going to come true at any second, every day, all day.

At the time, it was all very real to me. Looking back, it's clear to me that my fears were irrational and I was suffering from depression without really realizing it. Everything was a trigger. I got to a point where I could no longer do normal things that I enjoyed, like watching TV or reading. I deleted social media and isolated myself from nearly everyone to avoid triggers that would send me spiraling into crippling anxiety.

One of the worst parts of it all was the guilt I felt for not feeling happy when I had so much to be grateful for. I had a beautiful, happy baby, and a fully supporting husband who was always there to help me when I needed him. I wanted for nothing, yet I was still finding myself crying on the floor of the bathroom, fully convinced that my life was going to crumble around me at any moment. And I was so so tired of feeling that way.

The depression came in waves and would improve when I had something to distract myself. I spent a lot of time seeking out distraction to give myself a break from the relentless thoughts that were constantly going through my head.

This went on for a total of 13 months before it got better. The last thing I ever wanted to do was go into my Doctor's office a crying mess and tell him how crazy I was. I didn't see the doctor as an option that was going to make me feel better and I had no intention of taking medicine. I wanted to get better on my own.

Despite my best efforts to avoid going to the doctor for my depression, I still was not truly getting any better. I tried everything to fix it on my own. I started exercising consistently, eating healthy, getting more sleep. I took vitamins. I stopped breastfeeding because I thought that was causing it; it wasn't. But don't get me wrong, some things did make me feel better temporarily. Exercise especially. I looked forward to working out every day because it did make me feel better. In fact, it was when I felt slightly better that I decided to go see my doctor. When I felt better was when I was able to look back and realize how bad my depression actually was. I had a "normal" to compare the depression to. I could see that what I had been feeling was not normal and I was scared to go through it again.

So, I made an appointment with my doctor and made it through the appointment without becoming a blubbering mess. Luckily, he was great and explained to me that I was not alone. He made me feel a lot less crazy. But, he suggested I start taking a low dose SSRI every day (which I was very reluctant to do.) I knew the stigma around SSRIs and I was not eager to jump on that boat. But I did.

I started the medicine because I felt that I had tried everything I could to fix the problem myself, and it wasn't working. I was tired, and scared to fall into another bout of depression. I did not want to feel the same hopelessness that caused me to have thoughts like "It wouldn't be so bad if I died, because then I wouldn't have to worry so much anymore." This was my breaking point. I had to get help because I was not enjoying life anymore with what I was going through. Depression is not always obvious to the person experiencing it, and that is what is so scary about it. It isn't obvious, but it is so so real.

So I started taking the medicine because my doctor convinced me that it was really going to help. I was skeptical and I did not believe him, but I took the medicine anyway. And it worked. It took about a month for it to start working, but it worked. I am still so unbelievably grateful that it worked. I feel like myself again. I have energy, I can think clearly, and I am able to fully enjoy the experience of being a new mother.

I am not here to endorse SSRIs or any other type of drugs intended to help with mental illness. But I am here to tell you how I recovered from 13 months of severe depression after giving birth to my first child. The medicine worked for me. I continue to do everything I can to stay healthy, mentally and physically, along with taking the medicine every day. Honestly, I had forgotten what it was like to feel like myself and it feels so good.

Every person is different and I know that what worked for me, may not work for everyone. When I was suffering, I needed help and I wish I had asked for it sooner.

To any person suffering from depression, do not isolate yourself like I did. Open up and ask for help, as hard as it may be. You are not alone.