Ten weeks after my second child was born in 2013, I checked myself into the hospital to be treated for postpartum depression and anxiety.
Shortly after my healthy, beautiful baby was born, I began to notice a vague sense of unease creeping in on my thoughts. Soon, this feeling latched on to me with a death-grip, leaching every bit of joy and meaning from my life.
My children were clean, fed and cared for. I loved them. But I felt like an animated corpse. I confessed my feelings to my OBGYN, who gave me a prescription for an antidepressant.
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