Earlier this week, Katherine posted about The Oprah Show’s request for the stories of mothers with PPD. It seemed like a good opportunity to show the world another side of postpartum mood disorders, and I jump at any chance I have to do that. At Oprah’s website, I filled out a form with some personal information, and then had to write a short description of my experience with PPD. It had to be under 2000 characters long, which I found to be quite restrictive, but I made it work. I expected that to be the end of it.

I was surprised when I received an email from an Oprah staffer the next day, asking for more specific information about my postpartum depression story. I was a little shocked, to be honest; I actually questioned the authenticity of the email, but eventually figured that even if it were some random person asking me these personal questions, sharing the information wouldn’t do any real harm to me or my family.

I started answering the questions in the email, which mostly had to do with the particulars of my diagnosis, and whether or not I was currently undergoing treatment for the disorder. These were easy to answer, as the information is pretty straightforward.

Then I got to the last few questions, and I read this:

After your child's birth…are you feel empty and sad instead of elated and excited?

And this:

Are you scared you were going to hurt your child or yourself?

These questions rankled a bit, to be honest. Aside from the glaring grammatical errors (which bother me more than I’d like to admit), I found the questions themselves to be indicative of the stereotypes of PPD moms I’ve come to expect from the general public.

I know that the questions were most likely meant to get a broad sense of what PPD is like and I should probably just let it go, but I can’t help myself. I’m bothered, especially in light of the catastrophe that was AOLNews’ coverage of the Duley murders in South Carolina.

It seems that people are intent on pigeonholing PPD as a crazy-making disease, one that turns women into baby haters, baby killers. The truth is, as with any disorder, there are so many shades of postpartum depression, a veritable rainbow of symptoms, circumstances, and treatments, none of which are exactly the same from woman to woman.

One reason I allow myself to be so offended is because it is precisely these types of questions that make women with PPD/A/OCD not want to speak out. Who wants to talk to a virtual stranger about the fact that they could’ve cared less about their child, only moments after said child was out of the birth canal? Not many people would be so bold.

Why is it that the first thing that comes to people’s minds when they hear PPD is “This woman probably doesn’t love her child,” or “This woman is probably going to hurt her child.”? It’s as though all the literature about the range of PPD symptoms simply doesn’t exist–in the eyes of the world, all PPD moms are a danger to themselves or their children. It’s no wonder many women fear speaking out.

There is another layer of offensiveness here, though, and I wrote as much in my email to The Oprah Show. Like I said above, there is a broad spectrum of symptoms associated with PPD, and mine had very little to do with wanting to harm my child. Not only that, but I was completely elated at the birth of my son–it wasn’t until later that I started to manifest symptoms of depression. Why couldn’t the question have just said, “What types of symptoms did you experience during your bout of PPD?” It seems like that courtesy doesn’t extend to people with mental illness–in our society, it’s perfectly acceptable to jump right in andassume every depressed mother wants to kill someone.

I’m not sure what it’s going to take to show the public that postpartum depression is a bonafide illness, and as such, can manifest in many different ways. Am I to feel like my case of PPD was less severe because I never wanted to harm my children? Should the women who did have harmful thoughts be made to feel like worse mothers than those who didn’t? The answer is no, of course, but these things are so easily inferred by the language that is now most commonly used among laypeople who have never experienced a mood disorder.

The response to the AOLNews piece yesterday showed me that the tide might be turning. To see so many women and men up in arms about an issue that is so often swept under the rug was like a gulp of cool water on a hot summer’s day. I pray that this trend continues, and the language changes, so that someday soon, the first thought that comes to mind when we hear about a PPD mom is “I’ll bet she’s a strong woman, to be able to live through that.”

Alexis Lesa