My path to postpartum depression.
Hi, I’m 25 years old and I gave birth to a beautiful little girl on August 2, 2012.
At first, everything was amazing. I found out I was pregnant on November 30, 2011. I had wanted children for years, so I was thrilled to be having my first. My boyfriend (who I shall call Dillon) and I had been together two and a half years when we got the big positive on the pregnancy test. We were ecstatic but very nervous, too. We were going to have a baby!
I would have preferred to have married first, but that’s not how things happened. To this day, we’re still not even engaged, even though I’ve wished for at least that much. Dillon was the most amazing man in my life, but as time went on I felt more and more let down. He wasn’t stepping up and taking care of things like he should have been.
He lost his job in April, months before the baby was due, but he stubbornly wouldn’t look for work. Excuse after excuse rattled from his lips, new excuses all the time. In July, he couldn’t because he didn’t want to lose his job after the baby being born. But if he’d gotten a job in April, that wouldn’t have been a problem at all, would it?
From February to May we lived with his parents and his older brother. By May I demanded that we move, risking the posibility of not being able to afford our new place, but it disgusted me because my Dillon claimed all the time we couldn’t afford it. Well, that wasn’t my fault now was it? I had a job. Living with his parents wasn’t working for me. I like personal space, and the darkness was looming in. I cried a lot during those days. Hormones make you cry, but depression makes you cry worse. Plus, I don’t like sharing one bathroom with 4 other adults. And being pregnant I had to pee all the time!
So, we got an apartment in May. I was relieved. I felt like I could breathe and that our family wasn’t going to need to use his parents as a crutch. It pained me to think I was going to be stuck living with them for a long, long time. I still want to cry that we ever moved in with them in the first place.
Now, fast forward. It is September 17, and the time has flown by. Dillon still doesn’t have a job. And sometimes I resent him for it. Sometimes, I feel hatred. His daughter should come first, and maybe even me second, but he himself should no longer be at the top of his own list. But he somehow thinks things are working great. I keep a record of how much he has to pay me back once he gets a job since I have been carrying the weight of our family.
Not just financially, but in every way possible. He goes out with his friends all the time while I stay home and take care of our little baby. He’s home to sleep and sometimes eat and then he’s gone. I’m alone and I’m being swallowed up in a world of dark pain. My daughter is the only light in my life. I want no one else. I want nothing else except for Dillon to grow up. He’s 27. It’s time to grow up.
It sickens me. He sickens me. I hate the situation I’m in, but I can’t walk away. I won’t. My parents never divorced and neither did his, so I refuse to start our child off with a separated mom and dad. I want what’s best for her, and he’s not proving himself worthy, but I don’t know how to walk away and feel good about myself. That being said, I don’t know how to stay either. As a man, I wish he’d open his eyes and see that he’s tearing me to pieces. And our family. He should be supporting me, not dragging me down into darkness.
Published in: Family