Editor’s Note: I recently met Casey of Moosh in Indy when I was at BlogHer, the largest women’s blogging conference in the nation. She is beautiful, vibrant, the life of the party, has a darling daughter and a husband in law school. After talking to her for just two minutes, I felt on top of the world.
So I was surprised to learn that someone so enviable has been at the very bottom of it.
Please join with me in welcoming Casey. She may not be a local mama but her struggles with depression are universal.
I overdosed on prescription medication when I was seven months pregnant.
On purpose.
I didn’t want to be pregnant anymore. Pregnancy was (literally) killing me. I hadn’t eaten more than a half cup of food at a sitting in seven months. Ninety percent of what went into my mouth came back out. Every muscle in my body ached from dry heaving. My throat was constantly scratchy from vomiting up bile. Every smell was toxic.
And no one believed that I truly was sick.
One woman told me I was eating the wrong kind of crackers. Other people said I was being over-dramatic. Several people thought I was faking. My husband Cody thought I was a wimp.
I didn’t even know if I wanted a kid all that much, I mentally could not get myself excited about having a baby.
The depression built gradually (I am bipolar). Read on …


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