Nothing had a greater impact on my first year as a mother than the impact my postpartum depression made. It was constantly there; whispering in my ear that I was doing a horrible job and that I was a bad mother and that I was failing. It made me become hyper-vigilant, which only fueled a slew of other moments during my first year of mom-life that I would have rather avoided.

I was convinced that he wasn't sleeping because of something I was doing wrong, so I did everything I could think of to get him to sleep "the right way." I watched the clock and logged his naps and his bedtimes. I fretted and cried and worried that I had done something, some huge mistake, that ruined him for sleep forever. It was always on my mind, and it was exhausting.

I was one of those people who looked at pictures of baby poop on the internet, just to make sure what was coming out of him was within the realm of "normal." I kept a log of dirty and wet diapers. I recorded how frequently he went. I swear, if I'd had a scale I probably would've weighed them.

I worried about everything. From poop to how to make the best breast milk and if I was pumping enough, I was constantly fretting and anxious.

We lived in a new town my son's first year, so I was essentially alone. I didn't have any friends and I didn't have any nearby family members that could pitch in and help. I had no one except the internet, so it was a lonely and scary time.

Because of my depression, I completely neglected my partner. Between exhaustion, breastfeeding, and needing downtime, I was completely unavailable. We're back on stable ground now, but that first year as parents was no joke.

I got so wrapped up in my kid that I let pretty much all my relationships slide. It's been almost five years and there are a lot of people I regret losing touch with.

I put myself at the very bottom of the list of people who needed my attention. I didn't sleep or eat right or even shower regularly. I should've been kinder to myself, because there's no question that I deserved better.

I stopped doing pretty much anything that even remotely resembled self-care. I was a wreck and it impacted every other part of my life, including the way I parent. I know it's an over-played trope at this point, but you truly cannot take care of someone unless you take care of yourself, first.

Because I was so alone and so lonely, I spent a lot of time online. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest; I was all about all of it. I had my phone in my hand all the time. It was a tether to the outside world and I craved it. In hindsight, I probably should've just done the work to keep in touch with old friends and make new friends, but what's done is done.

The first year of motherhood is brutal and you'll most likely make some mistakes along the way. With a strong support network and proper self-care, however, you'll more than survive it and be better prepared to handle the next 17 years ahead. I promise.