In.Spired Series ~ All Work and No Play Makes Mommy go Something Something

in.spired 

Of extraordinary quality, as if arising from some external creative impulse. (of a person) Exhibiting such a creative impulse in the activity specified: "an inspired gardener".

The blogging community is full of so many incredible women. Women who are far more creative than I. And have amazing stories to share. 

This is one of them.

I am super-excited to have Kimberly from All Work and No Play make Mommy go Something Something here with us today to wrap up the In.Spired series.
She is open, honest and often hilarious in her stories detailing her battle with post-partum depression following the birth of her sweet boy.
Please welcome my new friend Kimberly, who btw, is another fellow Canadian. Go us!

I shielded my eyes from the painful morning sun that began filtering in through the streaky windows. I sat skittishly as I was bombarded by the noises of hurried rubber soles squeaking across the waxed floor, repetitious beeps, and the tiny murmurs from the infant in the stroller; the thick smell of sterile plastic filled my tensed lungs.

I knew what was going to happen.

He was going to tell me that I was crazy.

He was going to tell me that I was an unfit Mother.

He was going to lock me up.

He was going to take away my baby.

I wanted to run but my thoughts whipped and crashed violently into one another, preventing a successful escape plan to take form. It was like 1000 voices spewing words and sentences into my ear, flooding my mind and pulling me farther from reality.

Nothing made any sense.

My heart pumped faster with every second, minute, and hour that we had waited. I could feel my soul forcefully pounding against my chest, wanting to fly out of my skin.

When I heard my name called. I stood up cautiously and grasped the stroller handles tightly.

They weren’t taking my baby.

The nurse directed us to back of the ER. Before she left us alone she turned to me and said, “Dr.B is the best doctor in our area. He is going to take really good care of you.”

He walked in shortly after.

Dr. B was a tall slender graying man with an air of gentleness. He introduced himself and asked me how I was feeling. My anxiety was so bad that I could only spit out no more than 2 words at a time.

He simply nodded his head and said that he completely understood me.

“We’re going to work as a team to get you better, ok? This is NOT your fault. You are sick. This doesn’t mean you’re crazy or a bad mother. We will get you better. I promise.”

And for the first time in weeks, I was able to breathe.

At the end of October 2008, I began my fight against postpartum depression and anxiety.

*****

“Help me” is probably the most feared statement in any language.

We worry if our concerns will be heard and validated.

We worry if we will get help.

And the worst worry that prevents us from getting help:

How will people perceive me?

But in order to move forward, to heal, to be lifted from the intense weight of a situation we need to get over those fears and ask for help.  

Know that it is ok to ask for help. It doesn’t mean that you’re a failure. It means that you are human with a real illness.

If you think you are suffering from a postpartum mood disorder, I encourage you to reach out to your doctor, spouse, family, and friends.

Ask for help.

You do not need to suffer in silence.

There is help out there.

There is hope in recovery.

But you can’t start the fight until you ask for help.

I encourage you to visit her blog here. 
Kimberly, thanks so much for being with us today! 
You are an inspiration.
Daily.

Meet the rest of the inspiring ladies here  :: Shannon, Amanda, Monica, Hanna and Celia. 
Thank you all for participating!