The Magazine of The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America


Diary of a postpartum depression

I looked at our daughter in her father's arms — after 19 hours of labor that ended only when my doctor said she was going to "rescue" me and do a Caesarean section. That's when my sadness began.

During my pregnancy, through the morning sickness, fatigue and insomnia, I would think of the moment they would lay this child on my chest for the first time. Looking at her, all dirty and naked and miraculous, I knew I would cry. But that moment never came.

Oh, I still cried. And they were definitely tears of joy. But they were also tears of distress. As I lay on that operating table being sewn up, they didn't lay Carly on my chest. They took her to the nursery. Earlier I had begged Tim, my husband, that if I ended up having a C-section he would be there for our child. So he went with her.

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