About

It is 8 minutes before my 39th birthday. One kid has a rash, the other has a runny nose.  My hubby is asleep. I should be in bed too, the toddler will probably wake me up in less than 5 hours. I’m tired, but not sleepy. I am on fire.

In a few minutes I will be 10 years older than my mother was when she succumbed to Postpartum depression (No, she didn’t kill herself on my birthday, that would have been cruel and she wasn’t cruel, just very miserable). It is 11:59. And when the clock strikes midnight, I will publish this website. Here goes.

39? How the heck did that happen?
OK, that’s not the point.  This is:

For my mother Mina, my mother Mati, my grandma Esther, and for all mothers everywhere, I am dedicating my work to healing the pain caused by postpartum depression. I’ve been there too. Twice.

My birth mother Mina was very beautiful. And very sad.  She cried. A lot. Her pain was all-consuming. It effected all of us. She killed herself when I was six.

But this is no sob-story. My dad remarried a year later to this most wonderful woman (I asked Mati to marry my dad before he did!). And I grew up in a loving, healthy family environment. Still, you can imagine that the scars from losing my birth mother are forever with me.

The second time was six years ago. When my own son was born. The combination of sleep deprivation and the hormonal rollercoaster (not to mention possible genetic predisposition) were overwhelming and I found myself sinking.

Well, you know how sometime you need to hit rock-bottom to give it a good kick that will propel you all the way back up? My rock bottom was a long hard night with my green suede belt wrapped around my neck, crying and praying for the strength to pull it tighter. For the first time in my life, I understood my birth-mother.
More than anything, I longed to free my loved ones  from the burden of having such a broken person as wife and mother.

In my tortured mind, I was fantasizing about going up to heaven to search from above for the best stepmother out there, and rush her to my family so she could take care of them so much better that I could. Would you believe it?

Something deep inside me recoiled at these thoughts and ignited a spark. I found strength I didn’t know I had, and started seeking help. I spoke up: to my husband, my parents, my friends. I got a lot of support. I got professional help. I got better.

Besides sharing this pain with the people who loved me, what helped most was learning every mental fitness method I could find. I read every book, went to every support group in NYC, learned from therapists, took courses, you name it.
I found many different modalities, with some overlap, and varying degrees of accessibility during crisis. Some of them were totally useless: “Breath deeply, meditate, relax…”. Yeah, right.
Some methods are pretty darn good when applied consistently: Cognitive Therapy, The Work of Byron Katie, and the teachings of Abraham Low.
But none of those methods had everything. Most covered some aspects, but not all the important ones, and much was  explained in technical ways that are not only user unfriendly, they tend to be completely inaccessible emotionally for a women in her darkest hour.

It took about a year to get “myself” back. But it was a better self, far more equipped to handle emotional challenges than ever before, and much more present to joy.  I am now able to mother happily: It is never easy, but it is soul-satisfying.

Almost two years ago I had another baby. This time around, when the fatigue and hormones took their toll, I recognized the early symptoms and worked with my family to minimize the depth and the duration of the pain. And just as important: this time I knew enough to recognize it wasn’t my fault. I had only to deal with the actual hardship, without compounding it with the extra suffering brought on by guilt and shame. That made all the difference in the world.

I made it my life’s calling to find a way to replicate my success in overcoming postpartum depression. So I am working on developing  a system that combines the best aspects of the many methods I have studied, and presents the information in a digestible, compassionate, guilt-dissolving way.

And most importantly, this program will be emotionally accessible to women in the depth of the abyss. It includes customizable treasure maps and paths, in baby steps and a leap of faith (faith in you, not in god, though if you do believe in god, that might make things a little easier for you).

The program takes into account different personality types (you can’t expect an introvert to talk freely about this sensitive subject, you can show extroverts how to talk about their pain in a way that gets them help without freaking out people), and has units directed at partners, parents and in-laws (enough with the ” you just need to relax” and the “snap out of it”). It will cover self-talk, body image, relationship issues, self-expression, and compassionate self-care.

For the last few years I’ve volunteered as a counsellor at a suicide prevention center. There I found that my ideas and tools I was using, and especially the language in which they were presented successfully cut through the thick cloud of pain to show callers a glimmer of hope. When the judgement is removed, callers (of all genders and ages) could see a reason to go on living. And seek help.
(This sort of work is heart-wrenching, but oh, so worth the effort.)

Last week, my toddler started going to nursery school.
After years of being “just” a stay at home mom, I can now begin doing my life’s work.

In two weeks I will start leading a recovery group in my community of Ithaca NY.
But I’m an ambitious gall. I feel compelled to put this life-saving information in the hands of mothers everywhere.
I am working on downlodadable home-study programs, webinars, telleclasses, individual and group coaching, and an online sisterhood. My job is to ignite the light at the end of the tunnel, and provide support and community throughout the journey.

So if you need this sort of help, please keep in touch.  If you know a mother in pain, please support these efforts. Let’s help the suffering mothers of the world step out of the dark cloud and begin to shine.

Much love,
Yael.

Would you please post a comment? Consider it a birthday gift.
Prefer email? Here’s the address: ppdtojoy (at) gmail (dot) com