From the Archives of our Special Needs Journey: I wrote the following post reflecting on the depression I experienced when my children were both under the age of 3. They are 14 and 15 years old now and I have learned so much since then about mental health. I hope that this post will help you if you are in the midst of experiencing something similar.

Everyone thought I had it together. Everyone said they admired my family and how I was doing so well as a mother of two little ones. I smiled and I was genuinely pleased and thankful for their comments. But they did not know that behind my smile was the beginning of depression. Life was becoming extremely difficult with two children under the age of two and as I continued to write to Kyle, I was honest:

Kyle, although I know I’m being a good mom for you, sometimes I worry that I’m not being good enough. You’ll learn soon enough that your mom worries too much anyway, but I think it’s because all of a sudden, not only are you needing and wanting my attention, but so is Kaylie!

I had already experienced the “anger stage” of the grieving process. I had already cried out to God in anger and I had already gotten mad that this was now what my life was going to be like. Before long, though, I was not angry anymore. Instead, anger was replaced by a whole new wave of emotions. I started to feel helpless, anxious, and unhappy about the circumstances that surrounded me. I no longer felt in control of my life and I was working so hard to try to “fix” our situation. I would go to work and make phone calls to doctors and receive genetic test results during my lunch break. I would leave work and go straight to therapy appointments with Kyle. I would put the kids to bed and search the internet, trying desperately to find out the cause of Kyle’s delays and what to do about them.

But no matter how hard I worked, the reality was that I was the mom of a child with special needs and my life would forever be changed.

This reality was difficult to face and I began to think that I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t continue to work full time and keep up with the appointments. I couldn’t be the mom I thought I would be when I first became pregnant. I couldn’t stop crying. And then it began to get difficult for me to get out of bed in the morning. I did a good job disguising what I felt to almost everyone. I would go to church and work and smile and pretend that I had everything under control. Kyle and Kaylie had no idea because it was important to me that they did not know that their mother was breaking inside. But all of this “hiding” was draining me even more.

One evening, Jesse came home from work and could tell that I needed a little break. I did not have the energy to do anything and so I chose to lie in my bed. I stared into the darkness and heard the laughter of Kyle, Kaylie, and Jesse downstairs. Their giggles should have been contagious and their shouts of laughter should have made a smile creep onto my face. But I could not even force myself to smile. Instead, I allowed myself to think of what it would be like if I just ended my life. I startled myself. “Why am I thinking this? I have a great life! My husband and I have a wonderful marriage, I have a supportive family, we both have good jobs, and I have two wonderful children. There are so many people in this world who have it way worse than me. There are people who are homeless, starving, who just lost their child, or who have children with more extreme disabilities than my son.”

Those thoughts should have snapped me out of my depression. But they didn’t and I was scared because I had absolutely no control over the way I felt. Not one bit of control.

Jesse was becoming concerned with my mental stability and before he left for work one morning, I cried and told him everything I was feeling. He had to leave for work but made me promise to call a friend who was already seeing a counselor. When I did, it was such a relief to hear someone else tell me that they understood how I felt and that it was okay to see a counselor. So, I made that first step; I called a counselor and made an appointment.

It was THE best thing I could have ever done for myself.

I walked into the counselor’s office and introduced myself. She said, “Tell me about what brings you in here today.” I instantly began to cry so hard that I couldn’t speak. And that was the first of many appointments over the next three years. She helped me work through the anger, depression, anxiety, and faith issues I was having. Just by talking to her made a world of difference in my life. Things were not instantly better, though (throw in a panic attack at work, complete with hyperventilating and an ambulance ride to the emergency room); it was a process we had to work through. At first, I did not want to rely on any type of medication to make me feel better. I felt like I should be able to overcome the depression if I simply prayed and met with my counselor and tried very hard to change my attitude. I felt like I was a failure if I took medication. I was wrong. Taking a low dose anti-depressant for a couple of years helped me to be a happier mother, one who could again enjoy life and take care of myself and my family.

I am content now; I have moved past the depression. The thoughts of falling back in that stage still scare me at times, and I am very aware of my emotions. I’ve been through it before and if I ever experience those feelings, I will not hesitate to call a counselor and work through it all again. As I am writing this, I hear laughter in the next room. Jesse is doing his usual tickle time with the kids and their laughter and giggles have me smiling. I will end this post now so that I can join them and not miss one joyous moment!

Meet Kyle on our YouTube Channel, Kelli & Kyle, to see how we’re navigating this life now!