I remember the low point I hit when my second child was just a few weeks old. It was so low, in fact, that I am not ready to serve up all the details. I never did seek professional help, because I was so filled with managing to get through all the challenging moments that made up my days.
Depression landed square on my head at a time when my then-husband was dealing with the most emotionally painful experience of his life, which I can’t go into here. Suffice it to say, he is completely and totally excused from any responsibility for urging me to see a counselor. The thing is, I *knew* I was depressed and I knew that I was possibly in danger. I remember driving down the highway and thinking that maybe I should drive straight into the sound wall instead of following the curve of the road along it.
One thing depression does so effectively is dissuade people from asking for help. Because, seriously, why bother? We can’t expect women with postpartum depression to check in with themselves and decide to seek therapy — of course, many do, but I would bet that more don’t. So, please, put a phone call in to your Senator’s office and let her (or him) know you are demanding their support on this critical issue. Here’s a link to a searchable list of phone numbers for you.
Shamelessly copied and pasted from BlogHer.com: