Natalie Cambron’s Story

At PSI, we understand that storytelling has the power to save lives, and we are honored to provide a space for survivors to share their stories. This article is part of a subsection of the PSI blog dedicated to survivor stories. Please note that this story has not been edited, and caution is advised as distressing themes related to perinatal mental health may be present. If there are specific trigger warnings for an article, they will be listed below. Links to resources can be found at the bottom of this page.

It was a Thursday night in December and I was sitting at the dining room table after work. I was exhausted, hopeless, overwhelmed, and confused. I loved my 8-month-old daughter so much, but I was a shell of myself and my marriage was in the worst place it had ever been. I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling impatient, moody, tired, resentful, and ragey all the time. When I was 4 months postpartum, I thought it was due to the stress of returning to work after maternity leave or my unmet desire to be a stay-at-home mom. But, months later I was not getting any better. I felt like a failure and I knew I had to do something to save my marriage and myself.

I started researching some of my symptoms online when I landed on a woman’s story of her experience with postpartum depression (PPD). I thought surely I couldn’t have PPD since it had been 8 months since I had a baby! Doesn’t PPD only happen within the first 6 weeks following delivery? I had been “screened” before leaving the hospital and at my 6-week appointment, but not again after that. While reading the woman’s story, I could relate to every symptom the woman described and that’s when the tears started. Amidst my tears, I showed my husband what I had found. He read it and was surprised and saddened to learn how much I had been suffering inside.

You see, my husband knew I was not my normal self. However, he didn’t know the extent of what I was feeling because I wasn’t telling anyone. On the outside, no one could tell I was struggling. I showed up for work with a smile on my face and tried so hard to act “normal.” I felt I had to be (and wanted to be) okay for my students who deserved a good teacher each day. I was able to keep it together pretty well during the work day, but evenings and weekends were utterly exhausting. I was worn out from trying to be who I wanted to be. Even the smallest things seemed extremely overwhelming.

I felt like I tried everything to help myself feel better – eating healthier, drinking more water, exercising, getting more sleep, and working on my relationship with God. Nothing worked. I wasn’t interested in the things that used to bring me joy. It took everything in me to shower at night and get myself out of bed in the morning. I was in such a bad place that the only reason I was still going was for my daughter. I did not care about what happened to my marriage. I did not see a brighter future. I could only see darkness.

After realizing what was probably going on, I worked up the courage to call and make an appointment with my doctor. I was so scared to call, but I knew I had to. I explained my symptoms on the initial phone call and made an appointment. On the day of my appointment, my doctor sat down and said, “Tell me. What’s been going on?” I immediately broke down and managed to say, “I just haven’t been myself.” Through tears, I tried to explain my symptoms the best I could. My doctor was kind and helped me figure out my next step to treat my PPD.

Asking for help was one of the bravest things I have ever done.

I was afraid to believe I needed help. I was ashamed to admit I needed help. I was scared people would think I was an unfit mother. But, I was desperate to find something to help me feel better and stop believing voices in my head telling me, “I’m the worst mom,” “I shouldn’t be a mom anymore”,” and “My baby would be better off with a different mom.” Asking for help felt like just one more thing on my already too-full plate. However, I am so glad I did. I have learned a lot about my mental health and postpartum maternal mental health since then. I share my story because it might help another mom or her partner recognize PPD symptoms and encourage them to find help. It also may help another mom not feel as isolated. After my diagnosis, reading about others’ experiences of PPD helped me feel validated and not so alone.

If you are reading this and are struggling – I see you, I was you, and I am you. I encourage you to seek help. You are not alone in this. How you are feeling is not your fault. You are a good person and a good mom. You will find the light again. You will smile and laugh again. You will find joy again.

Love and hugs, mama. You are so very brave and strong.