Baby blues is like a light rain that passes in two weeks, but postpartum depression is a heavy, stuck monsoon in your mind. Anxiety makes you check the baby’s breathing every ten minutes, even when you’re dying for sleep. People say help comes from family, but in my nuclear flat, it’s just me, the 24/7 baby cries, and my husband who brings tea but cannot share the feeding. My own mother is a video call away in Kolkata, and that “almost here but not quite” feeling is what makes the blues turn into something darker.
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