I thought my c-section and the lack of sleep for those 3 days were the root cause of feeling so outside of myself and disconnected from my body when I was in the hospital. A nurse even told me, when I was begging her not to send us home that I was “just having some anxiety” and gave me a medication. Not once, in the three days I was there, did a single nurse or doctor ask me how I was feeling, aside from the regular check-ins from the c-section. I wish someone would have stopped me before I walked out that door and told me more about how childbirth and the hormone decline that followed would impact my mental health, I wish the hospital had handed me a packet of resources not only for baby, but for mom too. I wasn’t ready for, I hadn’t planned for, what was to follow, and I truly believe if we educated mothers more throughout their pregnancies about mental health, less women would suffer and feel alone.

Around 2-3 weeks postpartum, I thought I was starting to get the hang of things, only to realize I was non-stop anxious, extremely sleep deprived, unable to care for my son alone, unable to leave the house, not interested in things I was before giving birth. I was anti-social, I had no appetite, and I was crying all the time. I thought to myself “there is no way this is normal, I don’t think this is the baby blues” but I kept it all to myself, afraid that someone would judge me or take my baby away from me.

At 5 weeks postpartum, I experienced one of the worst moments of my life, when I was hit with a harm intrusive thought about my son while rocking him to sleep. From that day on, for about a month, my anxiety, depression, and OCD was off to the races. It wasn’t until my son had his 1 month check-up that I broke down to his pediatrician and said “There has to be someone I can talk to. I am not okay and I think I have postpartum depression.” Advocating for myself in that moment, when no one else would or knew how to, is what started my healing journey.  After two calls to a local crisis team, a voluntary admittance to a psychiatric facility and getting an entirely new team of mental health care providers as well as reaching out to The Postpartum Resource Center of New York, I finally had a name for what I was experiencing, as well as a solution. I began to hold onto every string of hope I could grasp. When I learned there were other women who went through (and recovered) from what I was experiencing, I knew I could keep going, no matter how hard, how dark, how sad, how traumatizing, it was. I knew all  I wanted was to “enjoy motherhood the way I wanted to and love my baby.”

It is because of the Postpartum Resource Center of New York’s Moms on Call and their Free Take Care of You Virtual Support Groups that I am fully recovered from my postpartum anxiety, depression, and OCD. It is because of Wendy Isnardi that I found my voice, and began to use it, to advocate as often and as loud as I needed to, in order to get the help I deserved so I could enjoy being a mom, feel like myself again, and grow my bond with my son. The more I learned, the more I researched, the more I found other moms like me who were going through it or who had gone through it, the more I knew I needed to be a part of bringing more awareness to perinatal mood and anxiety disorders as well as be a beacon of hope to the mama out there who is stumbling in the dark, trying to find her way out and through to the other side of her struggle.

To the mamas who are the me I was on that October day in 2021, is why I care. Because the me today, who is recovered, still healing, thriving/growing in her relationship with her son, herself and her role as a mother is also forever changed because of her postpartum experience, and I am making it my mission to encourage, support and hold space for the mama who so desperately just wants to “enjoy motherhood and love her baby(babies).”

These WHY I CARE stories were my lifeline for so many months, reading every one, in detail, over and over again, to help me feel less alone and better understood by those around me. It is my hope that I too, can now be that lifeline for other mamas like me, who are fighting like hell, to heal.

Hannah Costello
sociallycreativemarketing.com

I thought the thyroid was the root of all my problems, but after having my second child, 7 years later, I was shocked when the exact symptoms started with the first few days after birth. I lived in a different area and had a wonderful, well versed, experienced, and compassionate OBGYN. She recognized what was happening, educated me, treated me, and stuck by me every step of the way. I had Postpartum Anxiety. The thyroid issue from before was only in part, if not a result of, my affliction. This time was difficult, of course, but I had knowledge, support, proper treatment, and this time was shorter, and easier to bear. In many ways, she saved my life, I don’t know if I could have survived a second time.

Fortunately, my sister helped me get an appointment with a nurse practitioner that she worked with and this changed everything for me. I was finally seen, heard and treated after my third attempt to get medical help.
While I was grateful to finally receive the help that I so desperately needed, I could not stop thinking about how I could have been one of the mothers that falls through the cracks because there is not enough of a safety net surrounding moms in the year following giving birth.

When I called the first two doctors’ offices, I only spoke to the receptionist. I was not passed along to a trained medical professional who could have asked the right questions. No one asked me if I was suicidal. No one asked me if I had thoughts of hurting my children. How frightening is that? Thankfully, I did not suffer from those ideations, but so many do – and that is why you hear the horror stories on the news.

Our medical providers are failing us. One 6-week postpartum visit where you are given a basic postpartum depression and anxiety quiz is not enough. Even with my history of depression and anxiety, no one educated me about postpartum depression during or after either of my pregnancies.

If this happens to 1 in 5 women, why aren’t we being told about that during our prenatal visits, and well before we are placed in harm’s way? Why does the care shift from the mother to only the baby after we go through the mentally and physically taxing work of bringing life into this world?

I care, because I want to help raise awareness of this issue. I want our medical care to be better. And most importantly, I want other moms to know that they are not alone, even if their depression and anxiety is making them feel that way. The more we share our stories, the more we heal, and in turn, help to heal and educate others

Meg Howard is a Motherhood & Lifestyle Blogger and founder of nofomomma.com, where she writes about all things motherhood, mental health, spirituality, wellness, and raising her daughters with her husband on the North Fork of Long Island. Meg believes that mothers empower other mothers through honesty and sharing in both the celebration and the challenges of motherhood. Meg shares her own journey through postpartum depression and anxiety, and believes that mothers openly sharing their own stories is one of the fundamental pillars to healing. In addition to raising her kids and writing for the blog, Meg also works as a family law attorney and is one of the volunteers for the Postpartum Resource Center of New York.

I thought the thyroid was the root of all my problems, but after having my second child, 7 years later, I was shocked when the exact symptoms started with the first few days after birth. I lived in a different area and had a wonderful, well versed, experienced, and compassionate OBGYN. She recognized what was happening, educated me, treated me, and stuck by me every step of the way. I had Postpartum Anxiety. The thyroid issue from before was only in part, if not a result of, my affliction. This time was difficult, of course, but I had knowledge, support, proper treatment, and this time was shorter, and easier to bear. In many ways, she saved my life, I don’t know if I could have survived a second time.

Over time, I developed a strong desire to do something. To prevent ANYONE from ever experiencing the torture, fear, uncertainty, and disabling affects without knowing what is happening and what to do. The more I learned, the more I was COMPELLED to change the status quo. I cannot accept the lack of awareness, the lack of treatment, the lack of understanding, the misinformation, and false stereotypes that exist in many communities. I believe my experience had a purpose, a God-given mission to do my part in affecting women, families, and practitioners that deal with PMADs. My role is to provide support to moms, families, and practitioners in my area. Anything and all that may entail.

And, that, is why I care with all my heart and soul.

I lived on campus, so I walked across the street to the hospital to let them know I was in labor. Since meconium was present in the amniotic fluid, they gave me 24 hours to push her out naturally, otherwise I was going in for a c-section. During that time, the baby had to be monitored, so I was unable to get up or move around. After 24 hours, I was brought in for an emergency c-section, and my beautiful baby girl was delivered.

Some time after, just a few hours before my official “3-days” in the hospital expired, I was released  early with a low grade fever, only to end up back in the hospital 3 hours later with 103.5 degree fever. It turns out I was septic due to the meconium, and had a double lung infection of pneumonia from spending hours immobile in bed. The hospital was full, so I couldn’t be readmitted to the maternity floor. I was told I couldn’t have a healthy baby on the sick children’s floor where they placed me. I almost lost my life that night. No one was sure I’d make it through the night; but thank God I did!

After 3-4 days in the hospital, separated from my child, I convinced the doctors to let me go home for my health. I was retaining water, my blood pressure was rising, and I had developed white coat syndrome. My breasts were engorged and the milk was bloody from all the knots in my breasts. The antibiotics given to me, kept me from being able to breastfeed my daughter for 2 weeks. Those were the longest 2 weeks of my life. I almost lost my milk supply.

I believe I suffered from postpartum depression because of all the events leading up to birth and the trauma I suffered after. I loved being a mom, and I loved my daughter, but she also had the resemblance of her father. At the time of her birth I was no longer in a relationship with her father, but he was still the continuous source of my emotional and mental trauma. It was a very dark time in my life. I felt helpless and alone.The thoughts that ran through my head were both confusing and terribly intrusive.

The only thing that kept me going was knowing that my daughter didn’t ask to be here, and that she deserved nothing but the best from me. She was my light in the darkness, and she gave me the motivation to climb out of the dark place I found myself in. She was my miracle baby, an answered prayer, and I thank God for her everyday.

After years of hard work, I’ve obtained a bachelor’s degree, graduate certificate, and I’m currently working on completing my master’s degree. My daughter is happy, healthy and enjoying the carefree life of a preteen. I thank God that I have been blessed with the opportunity to take my experiences and help other women avoid some of the traumas I experienced by becoming a birth doula, (soon to be) childbirth educator, and a volunteer for the Postpartum Resource Center of New York. It brings me great joy knowing that I can help someone like me find their way out of a dark place. I’ve made it my mission to help support moms everywhere and help them to learn the importance of knowing that they’re not alone and they don’t have to suffer in silence.

Thank you for reading my story,

Chanel Jones
Birth Doula
Chanel’s Comforting Doula Care
chanelscomfortingdoulacare.com

His father, also ignorant of the effects of Postpartum Depression, was not able to emotionally support me. I listened to him and others say things like “snap out of it” and “where is old Carol”. In two months’ time I began my trips to the emergency room and an eventual inpatient stay at a psychiatric hospital. I begged and cried that this couldn’t be possible. I expressed thoughts of visualizing my child in dangerous situations, but yet no one seemed to hear me. I was prescribed antidepressants and sent home. I felt ashamed. I felt alone. I felt humiliated. I told myself I was a bad mom.

Today I think back and am aware of the sad reality that I was not given adequate mental health care. There was not enough understanding as to how debilitating Postpartum Depression and anxiety could be. When my anxiety and panic attacks began to take over, what felt like my every waking moment, it was also down played. I was informed that all mothers experienced feelings of being “overwhelmed” from time to time. I was prescribed more antidepressants and sent back home. I felt so alone and so ashamed. I wished I would just die. I was good at nothing, especially not good at being a mom. When tragedy struck, my life changed forever. I lost everything, most importantly myself and my son. I was a monster.

Years later, not one day passes where I wish and pray that what my family went through never happens to any other mother and her family. This illness has left us with many scars, but it did not win. My son is the greatest love of my life, and it matters to me to speak up for us. It is a horrible illness, but with the right help and support we can make it. I share my story because I care for all the moms fighting to make it to the other side of Postpartum depression. If my story helps even just one mom, then I will share it again. I say to that mom, there is help, you do get better. I promise!

I care because I was the one in seven new moms who would suffer from a perinatal mood and anxiety disorder (PMAD). The one in seven who would experience her darkest days at a time when she expected to experience her brightest joy. I care because I want every mother who is struggling to know that there is hope and she can get better. I care because I don’t want any other mother to go through what I did. I care because I want you to know you are a good mother and there is help out there.

Sharing my story and advocating for maternal mental health has been very therapeutic for me. It has become a way for me to turn my negative experience into a positive. Every time a fellow mom thanks me I feel a little stronger. I hope we can continue to build a strong network to better support all new moms and families who are affected by PMAD’s.

The human species is the only species whose offspring is absolutely dependent on their mothers or caretakers during their first years of life. The ONLY species. Yet, we are also the only ones who develop intelligence and consciousness. Isn’t that interesting?

On a beautiful, full moon February night, after a 14-hour labor, Alana was born. From the get go, she was strong-willed, determined little girl. She came into this world ready to soak it all in. I was committed to nursing her and must say that by week 10, I was ready to give up. I made an emergency phone call to La Leche League and the woman who answered my cry for help just told me “hang in there, it will get easier, I promise”. And it did. Except that Alana would not take a paci, a bottle, or anything that was not my breast. She also refused to nap in her crib.

After months of sleep deprivation and a move to Los Angeles, I was completely depleted. By 8 months she finally slept through the night but at this point, I had lost my ability to fall asleep. I was up all night with racing thoughts. Every day I dreaded another sleepless night ahead. Days became months and I ended up being diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depression. I felt trapped in this very dark tunnel, surviving every day and thinking I would never come out of it. There was absolutely no way a pill was going to save me.

I did everything I was advised. Started working out, took my medication, modified my diet, went to psychotherapy. Every night I promised my little girl I would get better for her. A couple months later, I gradually started feeling better.

Postpartum depression is a very real, very serious illness. It happens to many more women than we know of because there is still a lot of taboo around it and many women just go through it silently. I believe no woman should ever go through this and the fact that it happens more and more is a red flag that, as a society, we are doing something really wrong.

Human beings - Homo Sapiens - have existed for approximately 200,000 years. It has only been the last 10 thousand years, since the advent of agriculture, that we stopped being tribal nomads and the family unit began. Over 90% of our existence we lived in tribes. The concept of personal property hardly existed. Almost everything was shared. Women supported each other in their role of mothers. Together, they raised  the children of the tribe.

I believe we are in lack of this support today. We are putting all the expectations we once had on a tribe, into one person - our husband/wife - and this is very unrealistic.A woman should not have to endure months of sleep deprivation because she refuses to sleep train her child.I believe PPD can be prevented. There needs to be more awareness and our society needs to know that mothers must have all the support they need, especially during that first year with their newborn.My heart aches for all those mothers out there who are struggling. I want them to know that IT WILL PASS but they must seek and accept help. We are mothers, not Super Heroes. And we are learning this beautiful role as we go.

Mi nombre es Carolina y soy la madre afortunada de dos increíbles, sanos y felices hijos. Hoy dia, mi hija tiene 7 y mi hijo tiene 5. Las noches interminables sin dormir se acabaron y parecen muy lejanas. Hoy puedo ver a dos personitas únicas con sus propias personalidades e infinidad de posibilidades frente a ellos. Parece increíble que por tanto tiempo fueron 100% dependientes en mi.

La especie humana es la única en la que sus críos son absolutamente dependientes en su madres durante los primeros años de vida. Al mismo tiempo, somos los únicos que desarrollamos inteligencia y conciencia. No es esto interesante?

En una bella noche de luna llena en Febrero, despues de 14 horas de trabajo de parto, Alana llegó. Desde el inicio, fue una niña enérgica, alegre pero con carácter fuerte. Llegó a este mundo lista para absorberlo todo. Yo no estaba preparada para el huracán que de repente llegó a nuestro hogar! Me comprometí a darle pecho por un año pero, a la semana 10, debo confesar que estaba lista a darme por vencida. Hice una llamada de emergencia a “La Leche League” y la mujer que me atendió me dijo: “está a punto de convertirse más fácil, te prometo, no te rindas!”. Y así fue.. Excepto que Alana no aceptaba un chupo, una mamadera ni nada que no fuera mi pecho! También se rehusaba a dormir en su cuna…

Luego de meses sin dormir y una mudanza a Los Angeles, me encontraba totalmente exhausta. Finalment, a los 8 meses, Alana empezó a dormir toda la noche, pero a este punto, yo había perdido la capacidad de conciliar el sueño. Pasaba las noches en vela y mil cosas terribles pasaban por mi mente. Los días se convirtieron en meses y fuí diagnosticada con ansiedad y depresión. Me sentía atrapada en este túnel oscuro, sobreviviendo cada día y pensando que nunca saldría de aquello.Busqué ayuda psiquiátrica e hice todo lo que me recomendaron. Empecé a hacer ejercicio, modifiqué mi dieta, asistí a psicoterapia. Cada noche, le prometía a mi niña que me iba a mejorar por ella. Gradualmente, un par de meses después empecé a sentirme mejor.

La depresión post-parto es una enfermedad real y seria. Le pasa a muchas más mujeres de las que sabemos porque aun existe mucho tabú y estigma sobre el tema y muchas mujeres la sufren en silencio. Pienso que ninguna mujer debería pasar por esto y el hecho de que sucede mas y mas es una alerta roja de que como sociedad, estamos haciendo algo muy mal.

Los seres humanos - Homo Sapiens - existimos hace aproximadamente 200,000 años. Y solo en los últimos 10,000 años, desde el advenimiento de la agricultura, dejamos de vivir en tribus y se estableció la unidad familar. Mas del 90% de nuestra existencia vivimos en tribus. El concepto de propiedad personal no existía. Casi todo era compartido. Las mujeres se apoyaban unas a otras en su rol de madres. Juntas, criaban a los hijos de la tribu.

Pienso que hoy dia existe gran carencia de esta clase de apoyo. Ponemos todas las expectativas, que algun dia teniamos en la tribu, en una sola persona: nuestra pareja, y esto es poco realista. Una mujer nunca debería padecer meses de privación de sueño porque se rehusa a “entrenar” a su bebe a que duerma solo. Pienso que la DPP puede ser prevenida. Debe existir mas conciencia y nuestra sociedad debe saber que las madres deben tener todo el apoyo que necesitan, especialmente durante el ese primer año de vida con su bebé. My corazón sufre por todas aquellas madres que están padeciendo. Quiero que sepan que ES PASAJERO pero deben buscar y aceptar ayuda. Somos madres, no Super Héroes y estamos aprendiendo este hermoso rol sobre la marcha.

I tell myself today that I should have known, should have sought treatment sooner, but all I saw was my baby’s illness and didn’t realize that my depression and anxiety were probably contributing to it. After denying my illness for eight months, I finally came to realize that something was very wrong, and to ensure my own health and the health of my family, I had to do something about it. My sister had found out about the Postpartum Resource Center of New York and I decided to join their support group. Their program, called the Circle of Caring, was an eight-week program dedicated to women struggling with PPD. This group and its co-founder, Sonia Murdock, were instrumental in my recovery. I eventually became a facilitator for the Resource Center for a group of survivors of PPD. I also began doing other volunteer work at the Center including becoming team leader of the Advocacy Team, and I came to feel that I had suffered with PPD for a reason, to help other women who were suffering.

After I began teaching for a Physician Assistant Program, I began to lecture my students about PPD and to also tell them my story so they would know that it affects all kinds of women from all different backgrounds, and also to ensure that they were screening their patients for PPD and that the next generation of clinicians would know more than the last. The response from my students has always been overwhelming. PPD becomes more than just another disease to learn about, more than just another diagnosis to make. It takes on the face of their instructor and mentor and it means more; it becomes real.

Recently I had to find a baby picture of my son for a school event. I found a picture of him at about 6 months old, nestled in my arms and I was actually smiling. I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t remember smiling at all that first year”. How sad a thought; that my only reminiscences of that year are ones of sorrow and despair. I had wanted that baby so badly, had suffered through two miscarriages to have him, but I couldn’t remember smiling much his first year of life. If someone offered me a million dollars to relive that year, I would tell them thanks, but no thanks. I never want any other mother to feel that way after having her baby. That’s why I care.

By the grace of God, with treatment and attending the Circle of Caring, I got better. My family and I have flourished in the years following my recovery and I have been privileged to work with a group of volunteers that dedicate their lives to helping other mothers like me. Many of them share similar stories and the bond we share having gone through this illness is an unbreakable one. We do it because we care.

It is essential that women experiencing PPD know that it is not their fault, that there is help available to them, and that they will get better. Prompt diagnosis and treatment is imperative to ensure the health of mother, baby, and family. That’s why I care.

While going through this, I felt like I was “crazy” – I had a beautiful daughter and everything I wanted, why was I so unhappy? I saw other moms while I was running errands or bringing my daughter to library classes or to check-ups - they all looked so happy. Why wasn’t I happy? I had exactly what I wanted - a beautiful, smart and healthy daughter!

After suffering with the feelings of guilt, disappointment and frequent crying for months, I finally admitted to myself that the way I wasn’t ok - this wasn’t me. This was the beginning of my recovery. I opened up to my family and reached out to the “Mother’s Circle of Hope” support group. I also started therapy and reading books written by other mothers who also had postpartum depression. I found great comfort as I read each book and at each meeting I attended. I learned that I wasn’t alone and that many women understood how I felt.

After seeking help, I eventually got better and felt more like myself. I started a new hobby that I always wanted to try, I made more of an effort to see friends and do things for myself. I slowly began to “forgive” myself and allow myself to “let go” of the disappointing experience and began to realize that even though it wasn’t what I planned, it was ok. My daughter was fine…and I would be too.

When I was pregnant with my second daughter, my husband and I were both very excited but I was also fearful of having postpartum depression again. I wanted to try breastfeeding again, but was also fearful that I would have a difficult time. Someone told me about postpartum doulas, and I was sold on the idea! I immediately started researching doulas and I was so lucky to find the most amazing person to help when my second daughter was born - she was also a lactation consultant and trained about postpartum depression. She was with my family from when my daughter was 3 weeks - 3 months old. She was amazing and I tell everyone how wonderful she was. She was a huge help and definitely helped me manage those difficult first months with two children.

Now that I am better, I want to give back and help those mothers who feel alone, who feel like “failures” and feel like these feelings will never go away. I want them to see that they WILL be better and that the way they feel isn’t their fault. I care because I WAS exactly where other women are right now and want to help them feel the comfort I felt while hearing other women’s stories. This is why I am volunteering with the Postpartum Resource Center of New York. They are such a wonderful resource for mothers and families - I am proud to be a part of this organization.

Bridget Croteau – Mrs. New York USA Ambassador 2020

Visit Bridget's website here.

All the pain, sadness, and anger is now healed and has giving me such joy, peace and compassion. Having overcome my own personal experience with postpartum depression, I discovered a passion and purpose for supporting mothers as a post-partum doula. As a mother of two, I personally understand that each pregnancy and postpartum experience is unique and ever changing. My personal experience as a mother and my professional experience as a post-partum doula has helped to magnify and enhance my growth, passion and desire to assist women with overcoming obstacles and issues related to womanhood and being a mother utilizing a nurturing, hands-on and loving approach.

Initially, I set out to be a play therapist and during this time, I mistakenly discovered the existence post-partum doulas and instantly connected with this profession. Post-partum doulas provide direct care at a time that is one of the most crucial, when the baby is here! Moms are provided assistance to help with the transition from carrying a baby to being a parent, as well as, receiving information, education, companionship, compassion, and non-judgmental support during the post-partum trimester. I've been professional supporting postpartum mothers since 2012 which includes breastfeeding support, yoga for ppd and healthy eating. The most rewarding part of being a post-partum doula is having the ability to make a difference in a mother knowing that my gentle one-on-one approach, personalized attention, and holistic philosophy encourages her to embrace and make efforts attempting with new approaches, to release her fears and be the best mother she can be. Now I get to work with a rainbow of post-partum women like yourself to empower you to understand and heal in your life as a mothers and woman, which supports other roles you may play in this life.

Choose Happiness, Winter Parris
winterparris.com

I had my second child and when I found out I was having my second I fell into a deep depression, yet again another happy moment hidden in my darkness, in my emptiness and loneliness. After having my second nothing changed. I was still feeling empty and at this point I would just think I was crazy. My ob gyn made me feel crazy. I was told I was stressed and to take a break, HA! I hit a wall and hit it hard, and I found myself contemplating taking my own life. At that point my husband and I knew it wasn’t the “baby blues” and that it was much more.

I finally found a compassionate medical provider that assisted me and helped me figure out that I wasn’t crazy that something was medically wrong with me and that I could be helped. Throughout my healing process, I cried a lot, this time because I realized that I didn’t have to go through all I went through alone, that there were people who could help me.

When suffering from a PMAD (perinatal mood and anxiety disorders) everyone should realize that they aren’t alone, that they aren’t crazy that so many women suffer from this. It shouldn’t be a stigma to ask for help. As children we are taught “Sharing is Caring”. What happened to that motto? We should still live with that motto sharing information is caring!!!

So many lives can be spared from this horrible feeling of being alone; no one should feel like they are alone in a world of over 7 billion people.

This is why I care to share my story for moms and families and why I volunteer and support the mission of the Postpartum Resource Center of New York. You are not alone. There is help and hope from recovering from a perinatal mood and anxiety disorder. I invite you to join with me in sharing your story so together we will break the silence. Sharing is Caring!

Julissa Zambrano - Mrs. Nassau County, New York

I care because I cannot fathom seeing another person ask this question when there are definable answers and solutions!

The more information we gain, the more conversation we need and the greater chance that we, as a society, will mitigate the depth of a woman’s postpartum depression and aid in a much quicker recovery, to a life and a whole-self that she knows, wants and is entitled to.

I care so, I am a volunteer of the Postpartum Resource Center of New York!

I care because I am a birth doula, “a woman who serves.” A role that is at times underestimated but at all times necessary. I provide expecting mothers emotional, mental and physical support on a journey and path they call their own and that will have profound results for generations to come.

I have learned and witnessed first-hand how vital proper pre and post-natal knowledge are to a mother and her growing “tribe.” How the right support and right information can change the whole landscape of someone’s life.

Each day, women all across America are ushered into THEIR birth with a lack of this knowledge,
self-confidence or sense of control. Stripped of their unique identity, held hostage by policy and
non-evidence based information and then, tragically left alone, silently holding the pieces of something they had not anticipated or even prepared for.

The education must start BEFORE conception.

Renée Pizzuto is a mother of three, a Certified Holistic Birth Doula and Breastfeeding Counselor supporting expecting families through prenatal education, labor and postnatal preparation. Renée is the Postpartum Resource Center of New York's Project 62™ Staten Island Team Leader.

I care because every woman and her tribe deserves a healthy and happy life.

Visit Renée's Certified Holistic Birth Doula and Breastfeeding Counselor website here: tribeofmine.com

During this pregnancy we moved due to a change in my husband’s job. I decided not to begin working in our new city until after the baby was born. My depression continued to worsen and at 34 weeks of pregnancy I called my obstetrician in tears. I told him how depressed I was and how badly I felt. He told me if I had been closer to term in my pregnancy he would consider inducing my labor. Instead, he put me on an antidepressant which helped. I was able to go to full term with the pregnancy and deliver a healthy baby boy.

Due to postpartum depression, I continued on an antidepressant. Since the medication would get into breast milk, I was not able to breastfeed. That fact also contributed to sadness and guilt.

I had finally told my parents about my depression and they gave long-distance support on the phone and visited to ease the baby care load.

With ongoing psychiatric support, with both medication and talk therapy, I have been able to climb out of the abyss of depression and raise a healthy family. I care because I know how it feels to be pregnant and really, really badly depressed and not have any one to confide in. Fear of being judged poorly or becoming an inadequate mother can plague you. I wish I had known of a place such as the Postpartum Resource Center of New York that I could have called to get help and talk with other expectant mothers who had similar feelings. I would like to support other women who are going through mood and anxiety disorders in pregnancy or in the postpartum period. I would like to let other women know that no matter how bad they feel right now, they are going to feel better.

Three weeks postpartum I went from super-mom to a giant blob of depression, anxiety, sadness and fear. I couldn't make sense of what was going on In my head, I was having horrible, disturbing thoughts of harm befalling my beautiful baby. I didn’t want to be alone with her, I needed to have someone with me at all times.

Although I knew I wasn't capable of doing any of the horrible things that were going through my head, I didn’t understand why the thoughts existed at all. Only horrible people think the way that I did. The thoughts were so horrible in nature that they made me sick to my stomach. When I would try to stop the thoughts they would come on stronger. The anxiety was overwhelming, I couldn't sit still, I was crawling out of my skin. I thought if I told anyone what was going on in my head that they would have me arrested and take my baby away from me. I didn’t know what to do or where to turn. I needed to do something, I couldn't stand the way I felt. On top of experiencing these disgusting thoughts, I was also horribly depressed, anxious, and constantly crying. Every second of the day was torture not knowing what was going on with me. I felt so isolated and alone, but most of all, scared. I wanted to die.

I hated being in my house, I really hated being anywhere. One day my husband took me and the baby to a street fair in town to get me out of the house. While we were there I happened to walk into my Lamaze Coach — an encounter change the course of my life forever. I told her that I wasn't feeling like myself and she reassured me that I would get better — she also gave me the number of The Postpartum Resource Center of New York (PRCNY).

Making the call to the Resource Center changed my life ― they provided me with all of the tools I needed to get better. “Mom’s On Call”, to start with, was such a wonderful resource enabling me to speak with other mothers that suffered through postpartum depression and recovered. I joined their “Circle of Caring” support group, and that helped me tremendously. Being with other moms that were suffering like me was such an amazing source of support. We all got better together and I didn’t feel so alone and isolated any more. In addition, the PRCNY provided me with immeasurable support and resources to medical professionals that specialized In PPD.