I loved him with a desperate intensity that made me check his chest while he slept because I could barely believe something so tiny and perfect had been handed to two exhausted adults and sent home with them.
But I was drowning too.
My husband, Ethan, and I had promised to be honest with each other about how difficult things became.
Marriage
Before the birth, we had discussed postpartum depression because we wanted to prepare for both the good and the bad. We made plans, lists, and backup plans for those plans.
We talked about therapy, nightly check-ins, and never pretending everything was fine.
Our son, Noah, was three weeks old when I first noticed Ethan was missing from bed during the night.
