Depression. Miscarriage. Infertility. These are three words that carry a huge stigma in our mommy culture today. Three unfortunate experiences that make women everywhere either hide their face in shame or keep quiet so that no one will question what they did to cause this. It may sound really abrasive to you but think about it: If you’ve ever experienced any of these did you go and shout it off of the roof tops for the world to know? My guess is that you probably didn’t and if you did, well, my hand goes out to you for you are braver than I have been.
I know, I know; you’re probably wondering why on Earth I’m thinking about this. Well, it was all prompted by my friend’s Facebook status on Mother’s Day. My friend, Daphne, posted this on her Facebook profile, “It’s a bittersweet Mother’s Day today. Grateful for [my son] E and the joy, laughter, love and entertainment he brings to our life and has for the last 2.5 years. But also mourning for the two sweet babies we recently lost to two miscarriages. So this Mother’s [D]ay, hug your little ones just a little tighter, hold them just a little longer and remember we get to be moms because of them! Thank you God for E!” When your friend hurts you hurt; it’s the law of friendship. I wondered how Daphne was feeling, if she had confided in someone or at least let others know the loss she was mourning that weekend.
Depression. Miscarriage. Infertility. All three are isolating. No mother chooses to struggle with depression. No mother wants to feel the pain and loss of life from within her womb. No woman longs to feel emptiness as she walks through infertility. And yet sometimes we feel like we have to walk through this alone.
Daphne shared with me that her reason for sharing the news of her miscarriage with people was because people had been asking her when she was going to become pregnant again. The pain that the question caused encouraged her to be open with people about what she was going through. By sharing her own experience with others she’s found comfort in the arms of friends, encouragement in the form of living plants given to her by friends and prayers whispered to help heal her heart.
What are we waiting for? Are we waiting for someone to ask us if we’re struggling? Here I go: Hi, my name is Bert and I’ve been diagnosed with depression since my son was four months old. The first four months of my son’s life were very dark and while I have slipped back into my depression twice since my diagnosis. I’m in a good place now and I’m so thankful for this.