• I am a postpartum survivor and am extremely grateful for that. I always thought (like many) that postpartum depression meant that you did not LOVE your kids. So, because of that I did know something was off but I did not think it was postpartum depression. I never want this to happen to anyone, ever. I have chose to share my story here.

Peyton was born in March of 2014. My pregnancy wasn’t extra difficult,  however we did not know we were pregnant until I had my yearly well womens exam July of 2013 and the Dr. made me feel like I was already a bad mother for not knowing that I was 4 weeks pregnant and not already taking prenatal vitamins. Not the best start.
I did not go back to this Dr.
I found a Dr. my friend recommended,  who was also a family practice doctor. We were extremely happy with him and his care. The Dr. who delivered my son had moved to New Mexico sometime after my previous years appointment and I was super sad to have lost him, and was happy to find a loving Dr. for our daughter.

Labor was way easier than my 1st

  • 1st off I knew what to expect!! This is pretty huge because truly going blind into anything is scary.

A few pushes and she was out, all was good. We thought….
My husband got McDonald’s,  which at 5:30pm, after being at the hospital since 7am was delicious. My husband decided to go home with our little man, for the evening, they went home to put together the bouncer, give him a bath, get him ready for bed, and just kind chill. It was a long day.

I got up, went to the restroom was feeling ok, then I got dizzy, I fell down on the bathroom floor, I was rushed back to bed, and panic stricken nurses flooded my room.
A women named Frankie held my stomach down, with SO much pressure, but that pressure was the only thing keeping me from bleeding out in my room. My Mom held my baby girl in panic while she watched them all try to save my life. It was intense scary.
They had a hard time getting ahold of the Dr. finally he called with permission to do whatever they needed him to approve, and things started to improve. By the time my Mom called my husband, I was already ok….but it was a crazy intense, probably only 8 minutes…A night that I will never forget, and a Frankie I will always be grateful for. ☺

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