Exactly 23 years ago I marveled at my 7-hour-old daughter, my Eve. In those blissful early moments I thought I might have slipped the skin of pain that had cinched me for a long time after my son’s birth 3 1/2 years earlier. But it was not to be. After a momentary grace of one season…three months…of empowered, unfreighted mothering, Life circumstances stepped in to pull me down again. Into postpartum depression, again.
As odd as it sounds, my children were both in their teens before I realized that I had experienced postpartum depression with both of them. What led to this tardy epiphany? Not the several years of deep therapeutic work with two different therapists and a variety of bodyworkers; not the many years of deep scholarly work pursuing my doctorate in early human development, including the study of pregnancy, birth and postpartum issues; and as you can probably guess, not from my own OB/GYN.
I have Brooke Shields to thank for my big ah-hah. {Read more at mothering.com}
Tags: postpartum, postpartum depression
