I Love My Son… But I’m Not Okay
I love River more than anything in this world… and that’s what makes this so hard to admit.
Because nobody tells you that you can love your baby with your whole heart… and still feel like you’re drowning.
Postpartum depression isn’t gentle.
It’s not just tears or “baby blues.”
It’s sitting there holding River, kissing his little face, breathing him in… and still feeling this heavy, empty weight in my chest that won’t go away.
It’s the thoughts I don’t say out loud.
The guilt that follows me all day.
The quiet fear that maybe I’m not the mom he deserves.
It’s being so exhausted I feel sick… but when I finally get a moment to rest, my mind won’t stop.
It just gets louder.
It’s going through every feeding, every diaper change, every moment… like I’m on autopilot.
Like I’m there, but not really there.
And the scariest part?
Sometimes I don’t recognize myself anymore.
I don’t feel like the girl I used to be.
I feel like pieces of me disappeared somewhere along the way… and I don’t know how to get them back.
I hate admitting this.
Because I am grateful.
Because I do love him more than life itself.
But I’m struggling.
And pretending I’m okay is getting harder and harder.
If you’ve ever felt this way… the love and the heaviness existing at the same time… you’re not alone.
Even if it feels like you are.
Because nobody tells you that you can love your baby with your whole heart… and still feel like you’re drowning.
Postpartum depression isn’t gentle.
It’s not just tears or “baby blues.”
It’s sitting there holding River, kissing his little face, breathing him in… and still feeling this heavy, empty weight in my chest that won’t go away.
It’s the thoughts I don’t say out loud.
The guilt that follows me all day.
The quiet fear that maybe I’m not the mom he deserves.
It’s being so exhausted I feel sick… but when I finally get a moment to rest, my mind won’t stop.
It just gets louder.
It’s going through every feeding, every diaper change, every moment… like I’m on autopilot.
Like I’m there, but not really there.
And the scariest part?
Sometimes I don’t recognize myself anymore.
I don’t feel like the girl I used to be.
I feel like pieces of me disappeared somewhere along the way… and I don’t know how to get them back.
I hate admitting this.
Because I am grateful.
Because I do love him more than life itself.
But I’m struggling.
And pretending I’m okay is getting harder and harder.
If you’ve ever felt this way… the love and the heaviness existing at the same time… you’re not alone.
Even if it feels like you are.





















