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Reaching out my weary hand from the darkness that enveloped me was the most difficult part on my road to recovery from postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety.
But it was necessary.
I couldn’t start my fight without asking for help, for leaning upon the tremendous support of my husband, family, friends and my awesome psychiatrist.
It didn’t mean that I was a failure.
It didn’t mean that I was a bad Mom.
It didn’t mean that I was weak.
Added by Kimberly on March 6, 2012 at 8:09am — No Comments