Trovell

Afew months after my daughter Alice was born I sat in a rocking chair at four in the morning, nursing her and crying for no clear reason — for probably the fifth time in as many hours. It had become my go-to state; a big, blank sadness punctuated by lightning flashes of intense, all-consuming anxiety. “I’m just tired,” I’d say in the beginning when friends or family expressed concern. “I’m a new mom. You know how that goes!” The next month it was the same. “Just hormones!” I sobbed at my husband. “Just tired… Just adjusting… It’ll get better when