Lara's Testimonial

“I didn’t seem depressed. But I was.”

It was sunny outside. I remember it well. It was one of those early spring days that seem made to tell you that everything will be alright. But inside, it was dark. A silent darkness, that made no noise, but was felt in every gesture, in every held breath. I held my daughter in my arms, small, perfect. And I felt broken. It couldn’t be depression, I told myself. It shouldn’t be. I had wanted that baby with all my heart. I had everything I needed to be happy. Or at least, that’s what I thought.

My name is Lara Meloni and this is my story. A story that speaks of motherhood, of expectations, of silences. A story that also speaks of rebirth. But not right away, and not without struggle.

I had lived for years with anxiety and panic attacks. I knew them well. I had a difficult relationship with them: sometimes I pushed them away, sometimes I welcomed them, sometimes I tried to ignore them. But I had managed to find a balance, thanks to a long therapeutic journey and my psychiatrist, whom I never left. When I became pregnant, I was doing well. So well that together, we decided to cautiously and carefully suspend the medications. I wanted to breastfeed. Like many women, I had idealized breastfeeding: I imagined it as something natural, instinctive, like the purest gesture I could make for my daughter.

During the pregnancy, I felt overall calm. But every time I met a health professional, I felt a suspended gaze on me. I was asked if I was doing well, but it was as if the real question was: “When will you collapse?” I didn’t want to give them that satisfaction. So I smiled. And I kept going.