Long Live the Empress: Alexandra of Good Day Regular People

Look darlings, is here! I adore her, and her blog is one of the most comforting, nourishing, loving places in the whole wide internet. Case and point: on Valentine’s day most of the internet made me want to puke, ? Made me do something good that day.  And she is visiting us here, with her wisdom and her story. She is  on Twitter, and trust me, you want to follow her. 

About half of all new mothers will feel some sort of mood disorder, but these women are sometimes ashamed to admit these feelings. Among this high percentage, 10 to 15 percent will struggle with PPD, but there is still a stigma attached, both by society and brought on by the affected mother herself.
Roughly 6 percent within that group will have symptoms of anxiety and panic from PPD, but still these women feel judged, as if this is a reflection of their parenting abilities.
It’s this judgment by society that keeps many women from seeking help and being diagnosed. They don’t want to be whispered about, or have heads nodding in their direction as they walk past other mothers at playgroup.
Yael’s mission is to normalize PPD, to give it a face, so that we as a sisterhood reach out and help those among us burdened with Postpartum Depression. PPD isn’t a character flaw, it’s not a sign of emotional weakness, it’s not a choice to bail out on parenting duties.
PPD is real. I survived it with my firstborn. My hope for this post is to make this illness real to you here reading today, and to soften your heart toward those grasping for a hand during those torturous times.
Research shows that the earlier a woman is diagnosed, the better her chances are for a quicker recovery and less severity of her symptoms.
I knew immediately after giving birth to my first child that something didn’t feel right. There was no joy. I wanted to burst into tears, but was too ashamed to say anything. I kept quiet about the black cloud over my head for close to four weeks. Four weeks of tears, insomnia, crushing loneliness that made the time feel more like four years. Finally, at my three week postpartum check, I sat in my Doctor’s office and just sobbed. I couldn’t even put words together. Thank God she picked up the phone and had me walk over to a therapist who was in the same building, who she had see me immediately after my appointment.
I was lucky. I had a physician that reacted quickly and took my tears as something more than baby blues.
For me, she gave me what I needed to hear in order to have hope:
1. mspy app for android. She showed concern.
2. She told me there was treatment that would work.
3. She told me I would get better.
4. She told me none of this was my fault.
Number four was the biggie that I clung to that day in her office.
Such sweet salve to combat the thoughts of self blame swirling in my head: Not My Fault.
I hope that if you see someone who you think might have PPD, or if you know someone with PPD right now, that you pull them up, lift them up, give them the gift of acceptance and compassion.
Because increased social support is one of the very best predictors for the remission of PPD. That’s why being a friend to someone with PPD is so incredibly important.
Be that friend that makes a difference. Help that PPD mom to get better.
Help their baby to get their mommy back.
– – –
Thank god for that caring doctor! And thank god for all the friends who are making a difference and helping give babies their mommies back.
And thank you, Alexandra, for your thoughts and your story.
If you are one of Alexandra’s readers, hello to lovely and amazing regular you. I’m honored that you stopped by, and hope you will take a look around. If you only have time to read one other page, try this one about why I stopped fighting with postpartum depression and what I do instead: it’s called .

Comment magic:
Talk to Alexandra, talk to me, talk to you. Your thoughts are valued here.

As always, oceans of love to all who read.
Whether you comment or not, may the joy be with you.

Sorry, comments are closed for this post.

Long Live the Empress: Alexandra of Good Day Regular People

Look darlings, is here! I adore her, and her blog is one of the most comforting, nourishing, loving places in the whole wide internet. Case and point: on Valentine’s day most of the internet made me want to puke, ? Made me do something good that day.  And she is visiting us here, with her wisdom and her story. She is  on Twitter, and trust me, you want to follow her. 

About half of all new mothers will feel some sort of mood disorder, but these women are sometimes ashamed to admit these feelings. Among this high percentage, 10 to 15 percent will struggle with PPD, but there is still a stigma attached, both by society and brought on by the affected mother herself.
Roughly 6 percent within that group will have symptoms of anxiety and panic from PPD, but still these women feel judged, as if this is a reflection of their parenting abilities.
It’s this judgment by society that keeps many women from seeking help and being diagnosed. They don’t want to be whispered about, or have heads nodding in their direction as they walk past other mothers at playgroup.
Yael’s mission is to normalize PPD, to give it a face, so that we as a sisterhood reach out and help those among us burdened with Postpartum Depression. PPD isn’t a character flaw, it’s not a sign of emotional weakness, it’s not a choice to bail out on parenting duties.
PPD is real. I survived it with my firstborn. My hope for this post is to make this illness real to you here reading today, and to soften your heart toward those grasping for a hand during those torturous times.
Research shows that the earlier a woman is diagnosed, the better her chances are for a quicker recovery and less severity of her symptoms.
I knew immediately after giving birth to my first child that something didn’t feel right. There was no joy. I wanted to burst into tears, but was too ashamed to say anything. I kept quiet about the black cloud over my head for close to four weeks. Four weeks of tears, insomnia, crushing loneliness that made the time feel more like four years. Finally, at my three week postpartum check, I sat in my Doctor’s office and just sobbed. I couldn’t even put words together. Thank God she picked up the phone and had me walk over to a therapist who was in the same building, who she had see me immediately after my appointment.
I was lucky. I had a physician that reacted quickly and took my tears as something more than baby blues.
For me, she gave me what I needed to hear in order to have hope:
1. mspy app for android. She showed concern.
2. She told me there was treatment that would work.
3. She told me I would get better.
4. She told me none of this was my fault.
Number four was the biggie that I clung to that day in her office.
Such sweet salve to combat the thoughts of self blame swirling in my head: Not My Fault.
I hope that if you see someone who you think might have PPD, or if you know someone with PPD right now, that you pull them up, lift them up, give them the gift of acceptance and compassion.
Because increased social support is one of the very best predictors for the remission of PPD. That’s why being a friend to someone with PPD is so incredibly important.
Be that friend that makes a difference. Help that PPD mom to get better.
Help their baby to get their mommy back.
– – –
Thank god for that caring doctor! And thank god for all the friends who are making a difference and helping give babies their mommies back.
And thank you, Alexandra, for your thoughts and your story.
If you are one of Alexandra’s readers, hello to lovely and amazing regular you. I’m honored that you stopped by, and hope you will take a look around. If you only have time to read one other page, try this one about why I stopped fighting with postpartum depression and what I do instead: it’s called .

Comment magic:
Talk to Alexandra, talk to me, talk to you. Your thoughts are valued here.

As always, oceans of love to all who read.
Whether you comment or not, may the joy be with you.

Sorry, comments are closed for this post.