Postnatal depression is a killer. I don’t mean that euphemistically: Although it certainly is a difficulty that can inspire hyperbole, it also literally kills people. I have postnatal depression (PND), and I’ve been closer to the edge than I’d like to admit.
My pregnancy and the birth that followed put me through the wringer, leaving me physically scarred and suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. But the horror didn’t end after delivery. In many ways, it got worse after I gave birth.
During the postnatal period, I had to learn how to take care of a newborn: With very little sleep, with weird raging hormones, and with a body that was still healing from one surgery (C-section) and ended up needing a second surgery (gallbladder removal) just four weeks later.