My Battle With Postpartum Depression

Even though I felt myself being sucked into an abyss of darkness, I refused to reach out for help.by Shoshana Kagan

Looking down at my 6-month-old daughter, Rivka, I am filled with immense gratitude for this sweet bundle of joy in my arms. I caress her warm soft skin and gaze gently into her sparkling eyes. Relishing in the simple joys of motherhood I relax in my chair as I feed my child, letting my mind flow.

Suddenly, I sit up with a start and my dreamy smile slowly evaporates. A far off memory has jolted me. In my mind’s eye, I see a younger version of myself holding another six month old little girl. I am catapulted a decade back in time. I’m 24 years old and I’m holding my second child Devorah who is screaming.

Delivery from Darkness : Bringing postpartum depression out of the closet.

Bringing postpartum depression out of the closet.    

by Rabbi Baruch and Michal Finkelstein

Excerpted from Delivery from Darkness, A Jewish guide to prevention and treatment of postpartum depression.

"I Was Being Buried Alive," the author's personal account

I was irritable; I cried; I was exhausted, yet had trouble sleeping. Getting through each day seemed nearly impossible. My own children avoided me; my husband tiptoed around me. I was convinced that my family and the world would be better off without me.

Although I was a certified nurse midwife at that time, my lack of experience and understanding of postpartum depression (PPD) matched that of the average layperson and, unfortunately, most medical professionals. PPD was something that happened to "other" women who already had psychological problems.