Kisha’s Postpartum Depression Story

Kisha Gulley of The Kisha Project shares her story of the struggles that left her feeling less than joyous after the birth of her son.

Pregnancy complications and breastfeeding problems are reported by so many women with postpartum depression.  The added pressure to breastfeed also creates a difficult situation for mothers who are faced with the decision of whether to start antidepressants or continue breastfeeding.

Kisha's Postpartum Depression Story - Guest post by Kisha Gulley

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* This is a guest post and all opinions are those of the author and not necessarily those of www.runningintriangles.com.  Due to the nature of the topic, this post may contain graphic details that some may find disturbing.


When I found out I was pregnant it was the happiest day of my life. A woman knows her body. I always knew something was a little “off.” So when I took the home pregnancy test I wasn’t surprised. I immediately called my husband to tell him. He just so happened to be on a guy’s trip that he and his friends take every year. So they spent the weekend celebrating.

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At exactly 6 weeks my morning sickness kicked in with a vengeance. As a first time mom I had no idea what to expect. Everything I read and everyone I talked to told me that it would go away in my 2nd trimester, but it didn’t. I was sick and miserable everyday. I ended up in the hospital for dehydration.

I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum. I absolutely hated being pregnant. I couldn’t share that with anyone because everybody else had fairly easy pregnancies. Even if they felt a little sick they would always say “but it’s all worth it.” I know it’s worth it, but I still don’t like it.


I got admitted to the hospital at 35 weeks for high blood pressure. I was praying that I could keep him in a little longer.

At 36 weeks at exactly 12:01 I went into labor. I ended up having a c-section but my baby boy was healthy.

After all of the necessary checks were done one of the first things I did was have skin to skin bonding with my baby. It was an amazing experience.

I had to stay in the hospital an extra week because I was having some issues with my kidneys. The entire time I tried breastfeeding my baby. Even though nothing was coming out I did it religiously anyway. The nurses had to give me donor milk for my son because he needed to eat.

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Once we got home I thought my milk would come in and everything would be normal. I mean, why wouldn’t it? It’s not like breastfeeding would ever be a problem for me. Right?

We set our alarm for every 3 hours. We found it easier to wake up before the baby so that I could feed him. Waking up was the easy part.

I wasn’t producing enough milk to feed my son. I tried every lactation cookie recipe I could find… fenugreek, pumping around the clock, went to 3 lactation specialists, everything known to woman.  Nothing was working.

I was depressed and frustrated. My husband tried to help me, but what could he do? I had one job right? Every mom I tried to talk to about the situation had no idea what I was feeling. They might have been tired of breastfeeding, but at least they could.

I felt hopeless, tired, and in pain. I got to a point where I never left the house. My husband is a pilot and he had gone back to work. So I was alone all of the time. I wouldn’t leave the house when he was gone which was sometimes 4 or more days.

I just sat in the house and cried. I couldn’t tell my husband because I didn’t want him to worry about us while he was gone. I’m a stay at home mom, the least I could do is take care of our child while he was at work. I mean I only had one job. Right?

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I felt even worse because this was supposed to be such a happy time in my life. I mean I love my baby and I wanted him more than anything so I couldn’t understand why I was always crying.

I have been depressed most of my life, but I was happy now so this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

When I finally got the nerve up to leave my house I made it a point to not be out for longer than an hour because I couldn’t handle it.

End Your Depression Book

One day I went to see my ob/gyn for a routine visit. As soon as he saw me he said “I know you well enough to know that you are not okay, talk to me.” All I could do was cry. I spent the entire appointment crying. After I told him EVERYTHING that had been going on he said to me “It’s okay, what’s best for your baby is that YOU are okay.”

For the first time someone was telling me it was okay. A Man. I had only been talking to women about my issues with breastfeeding because what would a man know. He wanted to put me on anti-depressants but I would have to stop breastfeeding. I couldn’t do that. That would make me worse. Can you imagine what people would say?

Advertisements, medical professionals, even friends are always stressing the importance of breastfeeding. However nobody ever tells you that if you CAN’T breastfeed then it’s okay. That being FED is what’s best for your baby. That your mental health is what’s important.

I’m off of the anti-depressants now but I still take it one day at a time.

[Read more from Kisha at www.thekishaproject.com]


If you have a postpartum depression story to share, Running in Triangles wants to help.

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Vanessa’s Postpartum Depression Story

My postpartum depression story begins with the pregnancy of my second child.  I had a mild case of the baby blues with my first and, at the time, I was very worried about my mental state.   Little did I know, it was nothing compared to the dark path that is postpartum depression…

*This post may contain affiliate links which means that if you click on one of these links and buy a product, I will earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. Rest assured that I only recommend products that I love from companies that I trust.

**Furthermore, I am not a medical professional and nothing in this post should be taken as medical advice. I am simply a mother who has been there and lived to tell the tale.


The pregnancy test came back positive shortly after my only sister got engaged.  I was devastated.  Now, I was going to have to stuff my postpartum body into a breastfeeding-friendly bridesmaid dress.  I wouldn’t get to drink and party all night.  It sounds selfish and it was.  But I really wanted that one last hurrah before becoming a mother of two.

I should have been thrilled that I was pregnant again because before conceiving my first child, I miscarried twice.  I grieved for those babies and would have given anything to meet them.  And if I had gotten pregnant after my sister’s wedding, then I would have been thrilled, but…

the timing could not have been worse.

I contemplated terminating the pregnancy but just couldn’t do it.  So I secretly hoped that I would miscarry instead.

For a while, I ignored the pregnancy.  I didn’t count weeks or read books like I had done with my first.  I, once again, suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum, which made me resent the pregnancy even more.  Being so sick meant that I couldn’t take care of my toddler son or cook for my husband.  The guilt started to pile up.  At the end of my first trimester, the baby was thriving and I was sick, dehydrated and depressed.


I sought help for what my doctor described as prenatal depression(depression during pregnancy).   I saw a therapist once a week, but I don’t feel like I got much out of our sessions.  If anything, it was just a safe place to cry for an hour.  When my doctor asked if the sessions helped, I lied and said yes because I didn’t want to be difficult.

Why did I lie?

Somehow I managed to fake smile through the 9 long months.  I chose to deliver at a birth center with a midwife.  I never told them about the prenatal depression.  They were mothers themselves and they thought of birth as beautiful and natural – I didn’t want to be that one pessimistic mother with mental health issues.

My daughter was born in 2 hours and 4 minutes from the start of the first contraction.  I barely made it to the birth center, in fact I was certain I would deliver in the car on the way there.  It was the single, most traumatic experience of my entire life.

Read more about it here.

The first few months after she was born were similar to the 9 months of pregnancy…

I didn’t think too much about it.  I didn’t feel too much about it.  I fed her and changed her and did all the things for her that I needed to do but I didn’t connect with her nor did I feel any desire to. I made sure to keep busy so that I didn’t have to spend too much time with her.  I played with my son while I nursed her and rarely made eye contact with her.

I wasn’t sad, but I wasn’t happy either.  I felt zero emotions when I was with her.


My sister’s wedding came and went and I fake smiled and showed off my beautiful baby girl and put my hand over my heart when everyone told me how blessed I was.

And then, I wasn’t so busy anymore.  And all of the emotions that were locked up over the past few months wanted out.  Instead of feeling nothing – I felt everything – as though I was carrying the world on my shoulders and I couldn’t bear it.

My three month old refused to sleep.

She refused to be put down.

She refused to drink from a bottle.

She cried if anyone touched her, smiled at her or looked in her direction.

She and I were just two miserable beings who cried all day long.

Except when people came to visit.  Then she was fine, and I was fine, and everything was fine.  At least, that’s what we told them…

But when no one else was around, when it was just her and I, crying together… those were the moments I feared the most.  In my exhausted state, my mind would take over think things like:

I should have gone through with that abortion.

Things would be so much better if she never existed.

Would she stop crying if I just threw her out the window?

Maybe I will run away and never came back!

And then I would punish myself for being such a terrible mother. 

I didn’t know that it was postpartum depression.  I truly believed that I was just a bad person.

My husband, who had been there supporting me through all of it, (and feeling helpless I’m sure) finally told me that something wasn’t right.

I couldn’t have done it alone

I spoke to my doctor.  He agreed that it was postpartum depression and advised me that if I was to start anti-depressants, it meant that I would have to stop breastfeeding. [The fact that he gave me a choice in the matter meant he truly had no idea how bad it really was.  If I had actually told him all the things that were going through my mind, he would have demanded that I start anti-depressants immediately.] 

But I had already convinced myself that I was a terrible mother, and stopping breastfeeding just to take some pills was something a terrible mother would do.  So, in an effort to try to do right by my daughter, I chose to keep breastfeeding instead.

When my daughter was 6 months old, my husband and I decided to move 9 hours away from our hometown.  In my right mind, I would never have agreed to the move because I needed the support of our families more than ever.  But in my postpartum depression mind, I wanted to be far away from anyone and everyone.

That was 5 years ago and my battle with postpartum depression is ongoing.
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Over the years it has gone from very, very bad to non-existent and I don’t know if it will ever completely go away.  I try my hardest to maintain a good self-care routine but there are still things that make it better and things that make it worse.

Pain is the biggest trigger for me, so my recent struggle with endometriosis caused one of the largest relapses I’ve experienced in a long time.

I still take anti-depressants daily and while I hope that it won’t be forever, I realize that I will never be the same person I was before postpartum depression.

The End Your Depression Treatment Plan
Find out if this is the right treatment option for you

Believe it or not, I am thankful for the struggle.

I look at my gorgeous, brilliant, 5 year old daughter and I am thankful that a greater power guided me to keep her.

I am thankful that I am not haunted by the dark memories of the worst days.

I am thankful that my husband and I were given “bad times” to get through together.

And mostly, I am thankful that my struggle inspired me to help others.


Thank you for reading my postpartum depression story.

If it inspired you in any way, then I am glad to have written it, as hard as it was to do.   You can read more inspiring stories about postpartum depression and other maternal mental health disorders here

A compilation of posts from bloggers who have bravely told their postpartum depression story
A compilation of postpartum depression posts from other talented bloggers

For more information on how I can help you tell your story, please click here.