Bunmi Laditan is a mom of three who recently admitted that after her son, and third child, she didn't feel a connection to him. She later found out she had postpartum depression.
In her post, which she wrote on October 20, 2017, she explained that she felt an instant connection with her first two children. But when her son was born she admitted she felt like any second his real mom would come in and care for him.
More and more moms are stepping forward and bravely talking about their postpartum depression. Thanks to social media, parents are connecting over their experience with postpartum depression. Like other moms who have shared their struggle, Bunmi is helping other moms going through it feel less alone.
"There was a valley between us that I prayed he didn’t feel," she admitted.
Since she wrote about her experience, her post has connected with moms all over the world.
Keep scrolling to see what Bunmi had to say about her postpartum depression.
Bunmi Laditan is a mom in her 30s who has three kids. On October 20, 2017, she uploaded an honest and candid Facebook post about dealing with postpartum depression after having her son.
In her honest and raw post, she explained that after having her third child she could tell something was wrong when she didn't feel like his mother:
Good morning, babes. It’s Saturday morning which if you’re 7 means party time and if you’re a parent means absolutely nothing. Let’s talk about postpartum depression.
I had it bad with my third born. My last baby, my first son. We all know about the anxiety, OCD, chilling thoughts, rage that sneaks up on you like a flash fire and then is drowned by your own shame-filled tears and all that fun stuff yay but what no one can prepare you for is how it feels to hold a baby and not feel like she’s yours.
Since writing, the mom's post has gotten 13,000 reactions and over 1,290 shares. In it, she admits that it took three long years for things to finally get better.
The caption continues:
With my first two I felt that magical insta-connection. You know what I’m talking about. That mama-bear-I will-kill-a-mofo-who-touches-this-stroller-primal-let-me-drink-in-your-euphoric-scent-Jacob-imprints-on-Renesmee-you-are-in-my-bones-realness. But when I came home with my little cub, while he was cute as a button, I knew something was missing.
He didn’t feel like mine. I felt like I was taking care of someone’s else’s child. My body felt distinctly postpartum and was leaking from too many places but as I’d change his diapers and gently push his sweet little arms through his yellow and white pajamas, I remember looking my bedroom door, half expecting his real mother to walk in and say, “Excellent work, fräulein, I’ll take it from here.”
In those early days, I’d sit up in the dark of night nursing him looking like the picture of maternal devotion, but there was something missing and one of my greatest fears was that someone would notice.
Once I finally was diagnosed and medicated, my mood began to stabilize, but that connection? God is my witness, it took three solid years.
Three years.
Three years.
Bunmi connected with her daughters but after having her son she was frightened he'd never quite feel like hers.
In that time, I loved my baby boy, took him to play centres, parks, we cuddled, I painted his hands and pushed them into soft clay for keepsakes, and snapped a million photos, but there was a valley between us that I prayed he didn’t feel.
Then one day, or perhaps over several days, or maybe through each day of showing up, his real mother finally walked through the door and it was me. 100% me.
Now I can confidently yell at him to stop standing on the back of the couch because no, I am not going to the emergency room tonight because you think you’re Spider Man without feeling like I’m stealing someone else’s lines. I wipe up his messy hands after he’s gotten into the poster paint saying, “What am I going to do with you,” a little annoyed, mostly delighted by his mischievousness the way mothers are knowing this moment is mine all mine.
Bunmi ends her post reaching out to other moms and letting them know that everything will be okay in the end.
I am his mother and he is my child with no doubts, no angst, nothing between us except the hoodies I’ll wear 3, 4 days in a row.
So, mother, if you’re going through this today, changing a baby’s diaper or giving a toddler a bath with the shaking fear in your heart that this little one will never feel like your own, please just wait. Keep showing up. Keep rocking them to sleep searching their little faces for what you need. Keep wiping down that high chair and kissing their pillow soft cheeks. Every time you do you, the angels throw a handful of sand into the canyon between you. One day it will be full and you’ll walk across it to find you were always there somehow.
No, it’s not fair that you have to work at what’s supposed to come naturally, but in life the only thing that’s promised is work. Have faith, sweet mother. Your efforts will be rewarded. Speak gently to yourself. Breathe. Ask for help. Dawn will come, girlie. Just stay.
Love, Bunmi
Along with posts like this, Bunmi also uploads photos to her Facebook page of what motherhood looks like in her home with three kids.
She also has no fear showing off what her kitchen can sometimes look like in hopes to bring peace of mind to any parent who thinks they're not doing a good enough job.
Thanks to this mom's honestly many parents like Shelley commented that they too have postpartum depression.
"I didn't know anyone who just didn't 'take' to motherhood who would actually admit it," she wrote.
Bunmi also commented on the post to say "the guilt dissipates too" and that things are better now.
Now, Bunmi feels like the "real" mom to her son and continues to inspire other moms all over the world.
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