Why so quiet?

I admit I like to talk. If you asked my husband, he'd probably tell you that I talk too freely about everything. I'm a very "open" person. Except when it comes to one thing only: my PPD.

Why? Why haven't I told anyone except for my husband and a small handful of close friends?

Maybe women in the next generation will live in a society more educated about ppd, and there won't be such a stigma attached to it. My generation knows about PPD, but still has misconceptions.

I don't have PPD psychosis.
I'm not ungrateful for my baby.
I'm not a bad mom.

And lastly, I don't want people to feel like they have to hover around me.

I am a devout Catholic woman, and I associate with a lot of moms who have (or want) a LOT of children. They gush about what a beautiful thing it is to be pregnant, to go through labor, and to care for that newborn child. I understand all that. And that's the whole irony of PPD: what's supposed to bring about the greatest of joys actually brings about feelings of anguish.

I've written often before about how life "this side of Heaven" is full of contradictions and dissonance. One of the greatest mysteries of the Christian faith is why Christ's redemption of the world did not result in a return to Eden for all of us. His redemption brought about the possibility of salvation. It didn't change the fact that our inheritance is to journey through a fallen and disordered world.

The chemical imbalances that women sometimes suffer during pregnancy and postpartum are a part of this disorder. It wasn't supposed to be this way, but God has permitted it to happen. Our role is to trust that we can carry this burden, relying on His strength, until He chooses to lift it from us completely. Like Corrie ten Boom wrote, "the deeper our darkness, He is deeper still..."