When Brittany first saw the faint pink line on the test, she almost didn’t trust her eyes. Was it real or just a trick of the light? Before even telling Dre, her boyfriend, she called her best friend and blurted it out, breathless with both nerves and joy. Later, sitting in the doctor’s office with Dre, waiting for the confirmation, they heard the words out loud—six weeks pregnant. It felt like the world shifted in that little room, like two people had been handed the keys to something terrifying and beautiful. They looked at each other as if to say, “Whoa, this is real.”
Pregnancy was no walk in the park, but Brittany was already in love with the tiny person growing inside her. Exhaustion and hormones aside, she couldn’t wait to meet her baby boy. Her brother’s death two years earlier had left a permanent crack in her heart, one that dulled her joy in ways even she didn’t fully understand. But this child, she believed, was a gift from God, a way to bring light back into a space that had been dark for too long. His due date was March 1, but everyone, especially her mom, felt he would show up early.
And of course, moms are always right. On February 17, Brittany’s water broke. Less than 24 hours later, she held her son, Treasure, for the first time. The labor was long and brutal, and the epidural never kicked in, so she felt everything. At one point, she wondered if it was possible to die simply from the weight of so much pain. But when the doctor placed her newborn on her chest, none of that mattered anymore. The room blurred, the noise fell away, and there was only this boy, this miracle. She thought her heart might burst from joy.
But then came the part no one really talks about. The part where you go home from the hospital, sit in your own bed, and realize you are responsible for keeping this fragile human alive when you can barely keep your eyes open. Everyone warned her she would be tired, but words like tired and exhausted suddenly felt laughably small. She cried in the shower so no one would see. She cried because she loved her son so much, but also because she didn’t understand why she felt so low. Hormones crash, people said. Give it time. Except days stretched into weeks, and the heaviness only grew.
Brittany told herself she had no right to feel sad. Her son was healthy, Dre was helpful and loving, and her mom had flown in from Boston to support her. What more could she ask for? But inside, she felt like she was drowning. Some nights, when Treasure cried, she couldn’t even move. Eyes still closed, she whispered to Dre that she couldn’t get up, and he always did, without complaint. She was ashamed but also too empty to pretend anymore.
One night, while brushing their teeth, Dre broke the silence. He said quietly, “You seem like you’re having a tough time with this.” Tears poured down her face before she could stop them. “I am,” she admitted. “I’m so sad, and I don’t know why.” That was the truth; she didn’t know why, and not knowing made it scarier. Dre wrapped her in a hug and reminded her they were a team. He told her she wasn’t alone, not in this or in anything. Eventually, he told her mom what was happening, and together they agreed she should see a therapist.
Looking back, Brittany understands it was postpartum depression. At the time, it just felt like failure. She knows now that millions of women go through it, but many keep quiet out of shame. She almost did too. But keeping it bottled up only deepened the pit. Talking saved her. Leaning on Dre and her mom saved her. Therapy saved her. Slowly, the fog began to lift, and by the time Treasure was five months old, she no longer felt like the world was closing in on her. Still tired, sure, but not swallowed by despair.
These days, she carves out moments for herself without guilt, whether it’s a nap, a manicure, or just sitting alone in silence. She praises single moms because even with support, it was hard. She thanks God for Dre, for Treasure, for the lesson that asking for help is not weakness but wisdom. She knows now that motherhood is the most complex and beautiful job she will ever have. And if she faces the same storm again with another child, she will walk into it differently: open, honest, unashamed, and ready to lean on the people who love her.
