Hooray for Wednesday…and another Sluiter Nation Recruit!  Don’t know what the mess a Recruit even is?  Check here for the 411 (do people even say that anymore?)
This week’s Recruit is one of my very first bloggy friends.  Her name is Grace and I truly believe it was grace that brought her to me.  She was in the first wave of people to find Sluiter Nation after I admitted I suffer from postpartum depression.  She does too.  She blogs about it at Arms Wide Open.  She and I very quickly bonded over our little boys, our ppd experience, the fact that she lives in Mexico and I wish I could visit and practice my Spanish, and just trying to make it through this life with a smile.

She is probably one of the most beautiful souls I have ever “met”.  So here she is, sharing something very close to me…


I remember.
Nights and days passed without sleep. I was imagining what it would be like to not exist. To simply vanish.
I remember.
In the mornings I was hysterical. My husband tried to rationalize with me. He was slowly sinking into himself, and me? I was disappearing.
I remember.
It got so bad that he took me to Urgent Care.
“We need help. She has lost her ability to sleep. She is going crazy.”
I frantically told the doctor I could only take something safe for breastfeeding. I cannot stop breastfeeding. I cannot hurt my baby. I cannot take medication.
I remember.
We left with a prescription for Valerian Root. An herb.
I took it and cried. I felt nothing. I paced the cold tile floors. I hid from the shadows. I stared into the streetlights. I slowly disappeared.
I remember.
I ventured out to a playdate.
By now I was on a strong sedative to survive. No more herbs. No more homeopathic droplets that vanished from my body like fingerprints on a steamy shower door.
I remember.
Somehow the evil words emerged. I don’t remember how they oozed into the conversation like poison. Postpartum Depression. Anxiety.
“I just don’t understand it. I have never felt anxiety about being a mom. I want four kids! Or maybe I’ll just keep having kids until we have a girl!” She said matter-of-factly.
I remember.
I slowly disappeared.
And that night I tossed and turned and tears peeked out from the corner of my eyes, quickly stifled by the little white pill I reluctantly swallowed.
I remember.
I told my psychiatrist it wasn’t really getting better. I still had anxiety almost every single night when it was time for bed. My bed was my trigger. I couldn’t shake it. I confided in him what my husband had earlier told me.
“You have to just get better. You have to.”
I remember.
He pulled out his prescription pad and wrote me another pass. Another pill. Capsules this time. Green and Blue.
“You’ll be back to yourself in no time at all. I give it four months. Tops.”
I remember.
August came and went. September was washed away with the rain.
I wasn’t better.
And even more…I slowly disappeared.
Today, Two years later
I have a 3-year-old beautiful boy and new life in my womb. The tiny kicks remind me I survived. I am healthy. I am happy. I am present. I am mom. I cannot imagine my life any other way.
I am proof that this, too, shall pass.


Sigh.  Grace is such an inspiration.  You should follow her on twitter and read her blog.   Here is a sampling of her lovely…

Her recent thoughts on our babies growing up…stages.

On being a boy mom…times TWO…the reveal.

On healing from depression…a heart melting kind of love.

See?  Beautiful.  Thank you, Grace, for always being you and for being such a lovely friend.