I gave birth to my oldest more than a decade ago, but I still remember the “early days” like they were yesterday. I still recall that sweet newborn smell: a mixture of milk and bath soap with a hint of vanilla. I remember the late nights and early mornings. It was a time when days blurred together. When hours didn’t exist. I recall how soft her hair was. Oh, and those tiny toes. And I remember how much I struggled. Because with my oldest I had postpartum depression. I was one of millions who are diagnosed with this condition each and every year. And while many are familiar with the common symptoms of postpartum depression—while many are familiar with the persistent feelings of sadness, hopelessness, worthlessness, and general malaise—my experience with postpartum depression was a little different.

It was a little less clear.

You see, the first thing I noticed weren’t overwhelming feelings but an absence of them. I wasn’t terribly sad, at least not initially. I wasn’t crying all the time. And I wasn’t despondent.I was distant. Apathetic Numb. I struggled to bond with my daughter. She felt foreign, like an alien in my arms. And I struggled to concentrate. To make sense of anything at all.

As my condition worsened, so too did my symptoms.

I became irritable and short-tempered. I was always on edge. Little things would set me off, things like a cold cup of coffee, the sound of her crying, or a spilled bottle of milk. The tears came easier these days. I remember silently weeping while walking through Walgreens, which was our neighborhood’s “corner store.” And I couldn’t sleep. I would often lay in bed at 3:00am wondering why I was watching Mad Money in silence. 

I use the term “watching” loosely though. The TV was on to be sure, but I wasn’t present, nor was I paying attention. My mind was wandering to distant places. To damning places. To dark places. And it was the day I thought about locking her stroller and stepping in front of traffic that I knew I needed help.

This, I realized, was a red flag. 

But the flags were there long before the suicidal thoughts. For weeks, I struggled. Because, according to the National Health Service (NHS, those with postpartum depression may experience any of the following: 

The good news is that I was well insured and in a supportive relationship. I was able to reach out and get the care I so desperately needed. There was hope and help. But I’d be lying if I said it was easy. 

I called more than a dozen places. Four called me back. Of those, only two were seeing new clients—and one had a wait list which was four months long. They were asking me to wait 120 days (with suicidal thoughts) for care. 

Only one proved to be an option.

One in a city full of many mental health professionals.

That said, there are resources for those living with postpartum depression. Postpartum Support International, a  California-based organization dedicated to promoting the awareness, prevention, and treatment of mental health issues related to childbearing, will help individuals find a provider. They will connect new parents with support groups, and you can even chat with an expert. They also offer postpartum classes and a peer mentoring program.

The National Maternal Mental Health Hotline offers free, confidential support to new and expectant parents. Their trained crisis counselors can listen to what you’re going through, connect you with local support groups and organizations, and refer you to other health care professionals, if you need more care.

Doctors, midwives, and nurses can also help assess your condition and recommend appropriate treatment options. And, you can also call your insurance company, as I did, for a list of in-network providers—though you may want to ask those close to you for help during this process.

Of course, when your in the trenches, climbing out can feel impossible. Things seem bleak, and the weight of everything feels overwhelming. But there is help and hope. Acknowledging you need support is a huge step forward. Talking to someone is integral. And finding the care which works best for you is key.

You are not alone.

You are not to blame.

And things get better. There is hope.