08/19/2026
I loved my baby desperately.
And I was also struggling desperately.
Both were true.
After I had Leo, I experienced horrible postpartum depression and anxiety. But I was completely obsessed with my baby. I breastfed him, held him constantly, slept beside him, worried about him, and loved him beyond words.
So when I finally said I was struggling, I was essentially told I couldn’t have postpartum depression because I hadn’t “lost interest” in my baby.
But I hadn’t lost interest in my baby.
I had lost myself.
Six years later, while pregnant with my second baby, I’m watching the Lindsay Clancy trial and thinking about my own experience all over again.
I don’t know exactly what happened inside Lindsay’s mind, and I won’t pretend that I do. But this case has forced me to ask the same question over and over:
What happens when a mother asks for help... and the help isn’t enough?
We tell struggling mothers to GET HELP.
Okay.
WHERE IS THE HELP?
Who listens? Who notices when she isn’t getting better? Who asks how she’s really doing—and stays long enough to hear the answer?
A mother can love her baby more than anything in the world and still be mentally unwell.
Those things are not mutually exclusive.
I know because I lived it.
And that’s a huge part of why mamas play exists.
Because mothers need connection. Mothers need community. Mothers need other mothers.
And sometimes, what a struggling mother needs most is someone to say:
“Tell me how you really feel. I’m listening.”
If this is part of your story too, tell us.
You are not alone.
