Keep Calm and Blog On


Hello Readers

After a lengthy time away from blogging I am back.

Where do I even begin on why I haven’t blogged in over a year.

My last post was in December 2014, and little did I know what 2015 had in store for me.

I suffered the untimely death of another brother, the second in two years. We underwent renovations at home. My job was highly stressful and then the WHOPPER was the recurrence of my depression. It was a long, hard year and I decided to fade into the back and look after myself and put my blogging aside until I was well and mentally stronger.

So here I am. Big girl panties on and back to being a medicated mom. I am still muddling through this journey of motherhood finding it never gets easy… only different.

Looking forward to being more present and supportive.




I want to talk about it. #BellLetsTalk

I am very blessed to live in a country where mental illness is allowed to come out of the shadows and be seen for what it is. An Illness.

For anyone that doesn’t know what mental illness looks like,
allow me to show you.
2013-10-05 15.04.47

I bet you never expected it to look like that.

Depression is not a one size fits all, cry in the corner, suicidal person who can’t get out of bed picture.
Depression can be a woman in a grocery store, a man at a desk,
a child playing soccer.
Depression has no race or religion.
Depression doesn’t care how much you earn or where you live.
Depression is not something you ask for.

I suffered from Postpartum Depression and know many wonderful women who have suffered the same fate.
I have friends and family that have been diagnosed with, battled through or are dealing with some form of depression.

Depression can be cured.
There is nothing to be ashamed of.
It should be taken this seriously everywhere and not just in Canada.

Depression deserves the same love, support and understanding as some other well know diseases.


Today 28 January 2014 is Bell Lets Talk day what that means is that Bell will donate 5¢ more to mental health initiatives for every:
Text message sent*
Mobile and long distance call made*
Tweet using #BellLetsTalk
Facebook share of our Bell Let’s Talk image

Who We Are!

Silence is golden, unless you suffer from PPD then its poison.


We are seen as suicidal baby killers.
We are judged because of the illness we never asked for.
We shut out the world, living in fear that our babies will be taken.
We live in the shadows.

We miss the person we used to be.
We try to be the person we are expected to be.

We are robbed of a time we will never get back.
We are left with guilt and shame.
We hide behind fake smiles of false happiness.

We feel regret and rage.
We feel sadness and sorrow.
We want to run.
We want to hide.

We go from Jekyll to Hyde faster than you can read this sentence.
We feel the darkness close in quicker than we realize.

We wonder who we are.
We are the wife, it is the mistress.

We suffer in silence.
We reach out for help.

We medicate.
We meditate.

We hope for the best.
We prepare for the worst.

We are mothers suffering from PPD
We are who I am!

I am the face of Depression


I am a Medicated Mom!








There was recently a controversial segment on Anderson live called Moms & Medication – Mothers who take medication to be a better parent. I only knew about it because I happened to stumble on this blog and article “So you think I shouldn’t have had children”

What amazed me wasn’t the show or what was presented on Anderson Live, it was was the pure ignorance and hurtful comments people made, particularly towards mothers who suffer from depression.

When did people become so damn self-righteous.


Let me tell you, I wanted to be a mom. What I didn’t want or ask for was the PPD. But I did and I got the help I needed, through medication. Did it make me a better mom and help me cope? It sure as hell did! AND I. AM. NOT. AFRAID. TO. SAY.SO!

Do you really think there weren’t moments when I thought that I should never have been a mom? That this precious gift would be better off with someone else beside me? I spent so many HOURS wondering why I couldn’t cope without my medication and doubting my abilities as a mom when everyone else seemed to be having it easy and coping WITHOUT medication.

I often wonder if I had known beforehand that I was going to suffer from PPD if I would have had a baby. Hard to go back and make that call, as I would not give up Miss “S” for the world.

I do know that it has affected my decision to have more even though I know that I could get the help quicker, and a lot of the guess work second time around would be out of the equation. PPD has really put off having another baby and honestly we are quite content with just one munchkin running wild in our lives. I also don’t think I could quiet handle the guilt of enjoying another baby more than I did Miss “S” in those early days. Moms deal with enough guilt as it is. Why add to it.

To any moms suffering from PPD or any form of mental illness don’t let small minded people with too much time on their hands stop you from getting the help you need. FACT 1 in 5 mothers suffer from PPD. That’s a lot more than I would have thought and the scary part is how many suffer in silence being told to suck it up and cope by the world.


So in closing I would like to say God help those souls that find it their right to be judgmental and criticize moms that need medication to cope. May you or your loved ones never have to walk a mile in our shoes!



Talking About Postpartum Depression – REBLOGGED

Today its BELL LETS TALK DAY – Bringing awareness to mental illenss – I hope this reaches who ever needs it today and enourage all to keep the dialogue open




Photo credit

After battling unexplained infertility for years, we finally had our first baby. It was a very easy pregnancy and our son Ethan was born in the summer of 2007.

I never thought that I would not love being a mom. Or that I would not know how to be a mom; that it was going to be harder than I thought. After doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted for so long, it was hard to just give up my life to take care of such a demanding little person.

Ethan didn’t care if I was tired or if I needed to eat. He didn’t care if I wanted an hour to myself to read or wanted to watch something on TV. He cried a lot. He slept poorly. I was breastfeeding, and so we were always together. My organized life fell apart. This mommy thing was not…

View original post 561 more words

Dancing through the dark


The one post I really should be writing is proving to be more of a challenge than I thought. Here I am trying to bring awareness to woman about PPD and I can’t even find the words to describe my own struggle.

I don’t know where to start.
I don’t know how to start.
I don’t want to portray myself as a hero, the Helen of Troy or Joan of Arc of this disease, and I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.
I don’t even know if I am ready to bear my soul and tell everyone about the ugly side of motherhood that I experienced.

I am scared of the judgement and the stigma surrounding PPD.
I don’t want to be branded as a mom that could or has hurt her child.
I don’t want to be put into the category of moms that do unthinkable things to themselves and, sometimes, their families.

What I am able to say is I am on the road to recovery.
You know how I know – I listen to songs and I choreograph in my head the way I did when I taught dancing.
I just realized I never did this when I was in my dark place.
The songs have come alive for me again. I can once again see the stage, the costumes and the moves all playing out as they did before.

It’s been a long road.
Long because I have been trying so hard to find the right steps to go with the beat of music I was given.

Let the music move you.


In Sickness and in Health

The norovirus is making its rounds.
Shitty! Literally!

Started with just a fever in the little one and I prayed it would be nothing more than a cold.
But Murphy had teamed up with life, and before you knew it we had a scene from the exorcist on our hands.
And once the heartless bitches had finished with her, it was my turn. I truly know, and understand, how sick my little one must have felt.

Through the tears and vomit, I really came to realize how deeply this little person loves and depends on me.
Her naked body shaking with fever, clinging on to me while I tried to clean her up (before the next round).
All she wanted was her mom and dad close by. That’s it. That’s all.

The hard part of writing this, is that its taken me almost 2 years to feel this way about being a mom.
PPD Robbed me of the first two years when I should have felt this way.
But the best thing about knowing this, is that I have the rest of my life and hers to make up for the lost year or two.

In sickness and in health.
Till death do us part.

Be Kind to Yourself