Blog: Ten Years After the Storm

On this day, 10 years ago, I went in for a glucose test.I was all nerves—gears grinding, thoughts spiraling.
I didn’t know it then, but I was slowly imploding into myself.
Truly, I have few regrets in life. One of them is that because of my pregnancy anxiety and the postpartum depression that followed, I don’t have many pictures or memories of baby R and me. It would take months before I couldn’t stop documenting every minuscule thing he did.
Until then, I was a shell.
I can look at this picture now and remember the impending doom I felt.
I can also look at it and wonder what a difference it might have made if I had spoken up sooner—if I had asked for help sooner.
But I am grateful that I am still here.
Grateful that this is now a memory—one that blurs in and out of focus.
I wish I could reach through time and hold her.
Tell her it will be okay in the end.
I wish I could tell her that time didn’t heal us--
it softened the walls we built.
It made us advocates for maternal mental health.
Ten years.
In a few days, I have the honor of raising a ten-year-old boy who came in unannounced and changed my entire being.
Ten years ago, I was standing at the edge of a storm.
Somehow, I found my way out.
If you want to read more of our story, you can find it in Storm of Hope.

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