This picture will always be one of my favorites, but not for the reasons you might think. I was smack dab in the middle of the absolute worst time of my life, just trying to put on a smile for these three little people that were and are still much more important than me. Nanna was only 2 months old, Luca 16 months, and Anthoni was 8. My body felt ravaged, like it had been pregnant for nearly two years straight and my mind was going downhill. Fast. I was so alone. Covered with kids at all times, but more alone than I have ever felt. It did not make sense. It’s the part of motherhood that no one tells you about. You give up your own identity in order to raise a new one. I knew what depression was. I had dealt with it since my teenage years, so that was nothing new. Postpartum depression was a much deeper hole. I was supposed to be so overwhelmed with love for these little people that nothing else mattered. Who cares if I hadn’t taken a shower in 4 days or slept more than thirty cons...
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