Tamar Saperstein

When I was first married, I found myself constantly suffering from painful and awful vaginal and urinary tract infections. The doctor prescribed the same regimen of antibiotics for each type of infection. I’d heartily suffer through the weeklong course of medication, awaiting my pain and itch-free days to come, as the antibiotics worked their magic.

There was no reason why I should have miscarried, or so I thought. I found a thousand reasons to blame myself. Had I gotten enough rest? Was I getting enough nutrition? As my mind searched for answers and concocted a thousand reasons as to why this happened to me, I started to slowly fall into a depression.

I was the last generation fortunate enough to have personally known survivors of the Holocaust.

In less than two years, I went from the fast-paced life of having a full-time job, while attending graduate school and going out with my friends at night, to being married and a full-time stay-at-home mother. My life took a sudden 180-degree turn, and at times felt like it was standing still.