You may pretend you are fine, functioning, because you are still able to sauté the garlic a perfect golden brown and vacuum the dog hair off of the Chinese rug and put on mascara and cut the baby's tiny fingernails without drawing blood. And yet, you are totally detached.
Depression can lurk just beneath the surface of a seemingly "all together" or funny or successful person. I think that's why so many were shocked about the news of Williams death being linked to a suicide.
If you take my gorgeous, healthy baby out of this story, giving birth was the worst physical and emotional experience I have ever had. It was devastating. It devastated me so much I couldn't get past the shock when the nurses laid my baby's beautifully plump body across my chest, heart racing, sweat dripping from my brow.
When some doctors told me I would have to stop breastfeeding so I could take medication to get better, I became even more depressed and hopeless. How could I give up the one the one thing I felt I was good at?
Working with UCLA's Martie Haselton, Chapman University psychological scientist Jennifer Hahn-Holbrook has been exploring the evidence from diverse sources to argue that postpartum depression is linked to early weaning, deficient diet, inactivity, not enough sunshine, and lack of family support.
My labor and delivery were less than ideal, but they were behind me. What I didn't know was that the nightmare was just beginning.
It took a long time, therapy and experimenting with different anti-depressants, but I finally, finally emerged from the abyss of depression and anxiety, and began to enjoy my son and my life again.
By Kelly Coffey Motherhood: I don't know what my expectations were. The media paints a cute picture, but my life has certainly never been cute, so wh...
We are glad the Times is sparking a conversation about perinatal mood disorders and postpartum psychosis. We hope the conversation will evolve and accomplish two things.
By Mara Acel-Green, LICSW It takes a village to raise a family--and well-trained therapists are important members of that village. When I speak with ...
I wanted to love my new life. I wanted to feel excitement, joy and exhilaration. I wanted to look at that red, scrunched-up face and feel nothing but love and adoration. But The Voice would not allow me a reprieve.
For me, caring for a new baby varied from one hour to the next. I was learning to take it day by day. I loved my daughter, but found sleep deprivation, feeding and learning how to intuit and read my baby's cries overwhelming at times.
You were by my side as I fell madly, deeply, head over heels in love with the beautiful little boy who completed our family. You supported me as my first sweet son curled up behind me in the rocking chair. You told me that we would all start healing together.
It was my third day of being a mother, and our first night home from the hospital. My husband, son and I were up at 2:00 a.m., all desperate to decode why he (the baby, not my husband) was crying so loudly and incessantly.
Everyone talked about the baby bliss, the love I'd feel, the joy, the natural instincts. And while I certainly felt those things, I also felt depleted, overwhelmed, exhausted and utterly alone.
By Amanda Roberge This article first appeared on and is reprinted with permission from baystateparent.com. I can recall with great clarity the moment...