Did you know that a woman might not instantly turn into a giant mushball of maternal love immediately upon giving birth? Did you also know that that same woman can still be a good mother? You wouldn't think it was possible from scrolling down your Facebook feed and seeing post after post written by mothers who wax poetic about their unpreparedness for the amount of instantaneous love they felt for their children; a beautiful testament to parental love, but a hard pill to swallow for those who struggle from the beginning.Even though I've always had very realistic expectations of what motherhood would have in store for me personally, the truth is that deep down inside, I hoped I'd be wrong about how I'd truly feel once it was all said and done. I hoped that all those people who told me, "Just wait until he's here. Nothing else will matter." knew me better than I know myself. I prayed that I'd automatically fall head over heels in love with my child the moment I laid eyes on him; that I'd suddenly be perfectly content with spending my days rocking a tiny one to sleep.

But if you ask me truthfully if I felt this way immediately after giving birth, I'd have to say... no. This is one of the most difficult admissions I've had to make to myself, so you can imagine how hard it is to put in in writing for the world to see.

The moment that Cole was born, I did have that rush of adrenaline and endorphins as I stared at his tiny, wiggly body. It's hard not to after the experience of giving birth. I immediately felt a sense of responsibility to care for this little person to the best of my ability, even if that meant that I might be slightly miserable while learning to do so. {Ahem, breastfeeding.} When I looked at my sweet baby boy, I felt a lot of things: pride, amazement, protectiveness. But I also felt some things that you don't often read about: disconnect, fear, doubt.

I had a baby, and instead of my heart exploding out of my chest with love as many claim it does, it continued to beat steadily {though maybe a bit more rapidly with anxiousness} in its rightful place.

Though worries began to bubble up to the surface, I was able to suppress those feelings for the first few days after his birth, mostly because I and was too busy keeping up with his day-to-day needs to give it much thought. Soon, all of my helpers went back to their normal lives and we were alone. Just Cole and me. And suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the truth -- that I didn't instantly bond with my baby. That I wasn't sure that I ever would.

Truth: Depression Can Look Like Productivity

Exactly 3 weeks after I had Cole, I received an email from someone asking if I'd be interested in guest blogging on her site because it seemed to her that I could offer some words of advice about "finding the balance" in being a working mom. As flattered as I was, I also felt a bit like a fraud, knowing the truth about how I was feeling inside. I must have been doing a good job of making it seem like I had a clue.

That was the first time I realized that I wasn't doing anyone any favors by keeping it all together. On the outside, I continued to blog, snuggled my baby, smiled for pictures and yes, posted to social media. But on the inside, there was an ugly avalanche of self deprecation happening that only a few people knew about. I was not taking care of myself. I literally survived on Christmas cookies and adrenaline for weeks {which is probably not uncommon, but also not advisable}. Worst of all, I was avoiding facing my problems.

From left to right: Our first date night after baby {1 week postpartum}; Proving I can still bake. {1.5 weeks postpartum} Holidays still happen when you're depressed. {2.5 weeks postpartum}

You know what I discovered I'm really good at during this crazy time? Keeping busy. Not the good kind of that makes you productive, but sneaky kind that is really just avoidance in disguise.

To say I hit the ground running after having Cole would be an understatement. Getting back to "normal" was my way of exerting some control on feelings that I had absolutely NO control over. Keeping busy meant I didn't have time to think, because thinking would make me sad. When there was "quiet time" I'd begin to feel myself sinking into a dark, scary place. A place that told me that I was not worthy of this precious gift and that wasn't a good mother because I didn't feel like everyone described I would. A place that I'm not familiar with because I'm a generally happy and positive person.

So... I just kept going, going, going.

Though I knew that I still didn't feel right, I chalked it up to hormones and lack of sleep -- certainly not "the D word."  I had always assumed that being depressed looked like days filled with tears and dark rooms and hiding under the covers. For some people, it does. {And don't get me wrong, there was productivity, but there were also tears. Lots and lots of tears.}

One particularly overwhelming afternoon, I Googled "postpartum depression." And wouldn't you know it, I felt like I could have been the author of many of the stories I read. I learned that it was completely possible to be depressed AND functional... in your own dysfunctional way.

On one hand, it was frightening to me that I could be struggling with depression; on the other, I was relieved to find that I wasn't alone in my experience and there was hope for feeling "normal" once again.

Truth: The Truth Shall Set You Free

Shared on Instagram on January 20, 2015. {2 months postpartum}

You see this picture? It's one of my favorite pictures of  Cole. Not because he looks adorable {though he does}, or because it shows a genuine moment of goofiness, or because it happened so unexpectedly that it elicited the first real laugh that I'd had in a long time. I love it because it's the first picture that made me feel like what I thought I would feel as a mama. It was also the first time I made public mention of the fact that I had been struggling emotionally. And both of those things felt amazing.