I hope that my journey will bring hope to other moms and/or family members that are suffering from the illness of PPD (Post Partum Dep.) My entire family, church family and doctors have all learned the seriousness of this illness as they watched me swim, sink and flounder. It felt like my skin was turned inside out exposing every ugly part of my being. My in-laws came to help out with the older two when I went into labor. The plan was for them to stay for two weeks and help out while the new Mommy rested and adjusted to having now 3 children. Once I was home I became a basket case and a complex mix of emotions. I would sit down to dinner with the rest of them, having no appetite, and after forcing down one bite burst into tears and have to retreat to my room for the rest of the evening. The presence of too many people in the same room as me was intensely overwhelming and I would start to panic. The only consolation I felt was in holding my new baby and begging God to release me from this physical and mental affliction. I cried every day, hard, gut wrenching tears asking God and the Theotokos (Mother of God) to have mercy on me and heal me. I couldn't decide what was worse, being in physical pain from the surgery or being in emotional pain. My inlaws left and I thought things would settle down with me emotionally. My husband took off two more weeks to help tend to me and the kids. He became a rock and realized I was truly suffering. In Orthodoxy, after giving birth the mother and child wait 40 days to go back to church. My priest graciously granted me economia and allowed me to go back to church 2 weeks after Andrews birth. That was the first life raft thrown to me. Being able to take communion again and be in the church was like medicine for me. My road to recovery would be a long one, and back then I couldn't see an end to it. I continued to cry, panic and get worse and worse as the days went by. By now I knew it wasn't just the baby blues but I didn't know what was happening to me. I just thought I was going crazy and no one would be able to help me. The Saints were busy praying for me, my Guardian Angel was working overtime for me and my whole church family stepped in and took over care of my kids. But I still had to walk through the fire, though so very alone I felt, in my heart I knew that God would not abandon me and He didn't.......