Surviving postpartum depression as a single mom: how I found light in the dark days
No one prepares you for how it feels to be postpartum and truly alone. You think you’ll have this built-in support, someone to catch you when you’re falling apart, but life doesn’t always work out that way. For me, it was this lonely, hazy period that felt endless—a place I didn’t know how to get out of but kept hoping I would.
The beginning of it all was a blur. My daughter was just three weeks old when I found myself a single mom. We’d spent ten days in the hospital together, and I came home exhausted but hopeful, ready to settle into a new life with her and my son. But suddenly, I was alone with two little ones, and that shift hit me hard. I could feel the weight of it all pressing on me—physically, mentally, emotionally. It felt like there was no one else who could possibly understand what I was going through.
Falling Into the Shadows
There’s this fog that comes over you in postpartum. I knew I was supposed to be in love with my life, grateful for my beautiful babies, but the darkness kept creeping in, smothering those moments of joy. People talk about “baby blues” like it’s something to brush off, but this was different. This was deeper, scarier, and it felt like I was falling into a hole with no bottom.
I was dealing with it all—postpartum hormones, a major life change, and the weight of doing it all alone. My mind kept running a mile a minute, swinging between sadness, frustration, and guilt. I remember staring at the walls at night, my baby finally asleep, and feeling like I was slipping away, becoming a shell of myself. I kept wondering, “Why don’t I feel okay? Why do I feel so disconnected from everything and everyone?”
Realizing It Was More Than Just Sadness
I had moments where I’d catch myself feeling “off,” but I’d shrug it off and tell myself I had to keep going. Moms are supposed to keep going, right? But as the weeks went on, it was harder to keep denying it. I’d break down out of nowhere, crying when no one was watching, feeling the weight of my situation, my choices, and just…life. It wasn’t until I started to see the pattern—this persistent sadness, the feeling of being overwhelmed, isolated, and just…empty—that I realized I might be dealing with postpartum depression. But even knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
Reaching Out and Feeling Misunderstood
I tried reaching out. I told myself I had to. But there’s this vulnerability in admitting you’re struggling, especially as a mom. You’re supposed to be strong, supposed to keep it together. The few times I opened up, people offered advice that felt hollow: “Just take some time for yourself,” or, “This phase will pass.” But when you’re in the middle of it, when the days feel long, and the nights feel lonely, those words don’t really sink in. It’s like no one really got it.
I felt like I was trapped in my own experience, with no one who could truly see what I was going through. And in a way, that made the isolation worse. It wasn’t just being physically alone—it was the feeling that no one understood how much I was hurting.
Finding Small Glimmers of Light
One day, I decided I had to stop pretending. I had to let myself feel it all, even if it was ugly and painful. I stopped trying to be the perfect mom, stopped trying to hide my struggle. I started finding little ways to care for myself, even if they were tiny. Taking a few moments in the morning to just breathe. Writing down my thoughts—even if it was just to get them out of my head.
The journey wasn’t instant, and there were days I’d slip back into that darkness. But I began to see that by acknowledging my feelings, by giving myself permission to hurt and to heal, I could begin to find a way through it. I found strength in little moments—watching my children’s faces, feeling grateful for their presence, even when I felt completely lost in mine.
Embracing My Own Resilience
Looking back, I realize how strong I had to be to get through those dark days. The loneliness, the quiet struggles, the moments when I felt like I was breaking—it all taught me something about resilience. I don’t think you come out of an experience like this without being changed. But I found myself in those cracks, in the raw honesty of being broken open and putting myself back together again.
Being postpartum and alone taught me how to stand by myself, to advocate for my own healing, and to trust that even on the darkest days, there was a part of me strong enough to pull me through.
For the Moms Who Feel Alone
If you’re reading this, and you’re in that place too—feeling alone, postpartum, wondering when it’s going to get better—I hope you know you’re not alone in it. I know it feels endless, and I know it’s hard to imagine things getting easier. But you’re stronger than you think, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. You’re allowed to feel this way, to grieve the life you thought you’d have, to cry, to hurt, and to heal.
It’s okay to reach out, to seek support, and to be real about where you’re at. I started writing this because I didn’t see stories like mine out there, and I wanted to give voice to the parts of motherhood that don’t make it into the highlight reels. It’s okay to struggle, and it’s okay to take your time finding your way through.
And one day, I promise, you’ll look back and realize how far you’ve come. You’ll see the strength that carried you through, and you’ll know that you did it. You found your way out of the dark days.
