Lost and Found

I wholeheartedly believe that when something or someone is lost, if you tell a mother she will find what is lost. But what happens when a mother is the someone that is lost? Who will find her?

I lost myself in motherhood but I also found myself in motherhood. I had my first child in July 2019 and my second in June 2022; COVID hit the airwaves in early 2020 and quarantine soon followed. After I had my first, I exhibited all of the signs of a first time mother – exhausted, sleep deprived, exhausted, and repeat until they turn a year old. But I was also feeling sad, down, and depressed but I wrapped it up with a nice bow and called it “first-time mother exhaustion”; my postpartum depression exploded like a volcano that has been waiting for centuries to erupt. The volcano erupted during the quarantine of 2020 and I was forced to face the parts of me that I had wrapped in a box with that nice bow on it months earlier. Depression has a way of setting up shop without permission and overstays its welcome.

Upon recognition that things were definitely not fine, I immediately returned to therapy. I also tried something that I was against until I wasn’t – medication and honestly it saved me. I started to see the light shine in and tap into things that I knew made me feel good. Then October 2022 happens and I’m pregnant with my second and immediately stop taking medication (the day I got a positive pregnancy test to be exact) and started round two of my body being borrowed by another human for nine months.

I was ok during this pregnancy, I think because I told myself I had to be because I stopped taking medication and that was saving me. I powered through and right after I had my second I started feeling the same way I felt when I finally accepted that things weren’t “fine”. I contacted my doctor and immediately went back on medication and continued with therapy. Ironically, after doing the right things for me (medication and therapy), I was the most depressed I had ever been. I did not love the headspace I was in but I knew I had to get things together for my babies.

Although, I was doing all of the right things for me, I was still depressed. Sometimes it happens like that. The right things kept my head above water and over time I slowly but surely started to swim instead of just treading water. The dark cloud took an awfully long time to lift but it eventually did. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me and that’s ok. I’ve invested in the right tools for me and relay on them daily to get me through. Some days I feel like my tools are working and other days I feel like I’m just using the tools because they’re there. Healing and coming home to yourself is never linear, there will forever be zig zags and it’s ok to redirect and re-group when needed.

I’m constantly reassessing my tools to see which ones no longer fit and am open to adjustments. Whether that’s a different type of medication or change in dosage or the amount of times I go to therapy. I’m open to adjusting what’s best for me. We will outgrow tools and that’s fine; just be sure to replace what you removed.

Give a mother the right tools and she will always find what is lost, even herself.