Tag Archives: postpartum depression

I Suffered Too: A Man’s Battle During Postpartum Depression

As a man, I thought I could handle it. I thought I could get through it, but I discovered that I too was suffering during my wife’s postpartum depression.

man's battle postpartum depression

*Another post written by my husband, Evan.*

The stress caused me to lose almost 10 lbs and gave me irritable bowel syndrome. It was the hardest thing that I have ever had to watch. Lydia was sick for over a year and even though my last post was a little comical, there was nothing comical about watching my wife struggle that way.

Just because my wife was the one going through the actual postpartum depression doesn’t mean that it didn’t affect me at all.

I remember the sleepless nights as I sat awake in our bed listening to her cry, feeling completely helpless. I remember the fear of leaving for work, never being sure of what would happen while I was away. I remember the desire to take away all of the hurt and all of the pain and deal with it myself, because that would be easier than watching my wife, my best friend, and my children’s mother suffer and hating myself for not being able to do anything.

I remember. Continue reading

What is wrong with my wife? (Postpartum Depression: A Husband’s Perspective)

Your wife just had a baby and something is really off with her. It’s called postpartum depression.

If you are a subscriber to my email newsletters, then you knew that this post was coming. For those that don’t know, my husband will gradually be co-writing for my blog, and I am so excited for this to become a team effort! Today, my sweet husband is here to share his thoughts on postpartum depression and how husbands can help their wives through such a difficult season.

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*written by Evan, my husband and the Marine behind the blog*

You’ve just had a child – a little bundle of joy – and you couldn’t possibly be any happier!

Or wait, could you? Continue reading

What is inside our minds? (a deeper look at depression)

I’m sitting here in front of the computer screen with my heart screaming at me to write something, but my mind keeps drawing a blank. Oh how I want to write, but here I still sit, staring . . . waiting for the thoughts to start flowing. It’s rather tedious and annoying. I feel like my mind does that so much these days. It seems that ever since I went through that severe struggle with postpartum depression, my brain has never fully recovered. I don’t know if it ever will. No, I do not battle with the depression like I did before. I still struggle with it, but it’s so much more manageable than it was.

To be honest, there are several parts of those two years of suffering that I barely remember. Those years were absolutely awful and those pages of life seem incredibly blurred. That’s the problem with depression; it draws you down so deep that you don’t even know who you are.

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I recently came across someone who expressed anger over a family member that was suffering from depression and took attempts on her life. This person expressed how selfish it was of her family member to be acting this way. As this person’s feelings unfolded, I felt Continue reading

When Depression Attacks Your Faith

depression

I laid in bed, wishing for the morning sun to go away, wishing for another hour of sleep. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep. Eyes still shut tight, I rolled to my left side and curled into a fetal position. Thoughts raced through my head. They never stopped. I willed them to stop. I just wanted peace. I wanted sleep but could not get any. My mind was always spinning, always spiraling.

What’s the point? All of this is vanity anyway. Life doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know how I’m going to keep going. Why am I thinking like this? I’m just so tired. I want to sleep. I have to get up. I can’t. Why do I feel so empty? Did I sin? Am I being punished? What if I’m not really saved? Why can’t I feel the Holy Spirit working in me? I hate this. I hate feeling this way. Oh, I’m so tired!

“Lord, please help me!” I whispered, as tears streamed down my cheeks. That was becoming my daily morning prayer. A plea for help. A plea for grace. Continue reading

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