One of mymothers (I have two)works at the Mississippi State Mental Hospital. She told me they have some sort of museum or archivesthere, and in it there is an admitting book that shows, among other patients, the women who were admitted shortly after childbirth and committed to the mental institution for the rest of their lives. Checked in and never checked out. This was not unusual in an era where there were no toll-free numbers, support groups and patient brochures about postpartum depression. Only the belief that these women were "hysterical" and probably weren't coming back from wherever their minds had gone.
I just came upon this poem from a blog called Life At Willow Manor. I don't know Willow, the author, personally, but her poem is so poignant and beautiful. It makes me long to hug all the women who were in hergreat grandmother's exactsituation. I'm so glad we've come a long way from that. She has given me permission to reprint it here.
Emma
Shadows of my family
hang from this stranger’s pensive smile,
like the locket and chain pinned
to her clean Victorian blouse.
Galena Kansas, branded
on the faded cabinet photo,
tags her face
as cattle marked for market.
She was committed, they told me;
endless days of silence,
absently pulling the chain of her shackle,
fenced in a dark corral.
I tell myself her smile
was tucked away,
resting in the hope chest
with her locket, chain and ruby slippers–
waiting for her tin man
and scarecrow to
link arms and steer her
along that yellow brick road to the sky.
Katherine, I'm very honored to share my poetry on your wonderful site. Thank you!
Willow is one of my favorite people in blogland. Her writing is always among the best.
This poem touched me as well because my grandmother was committed twice – after each child was born. The second time she contracted TB there and died of it, probably in her late 20's. She got no help and my mother and uncle were put in the orphanage eventually. My mother was adopted into a very abusive home when she was six and my uncle was never adopted but simply turned out at 18.
My grandmother's mistreatment reverberates through our family today because of all the dysfunction it caused. Total tragedy back then for the institutionalized. I ponder what feckless treatment we receive today will cause us to gape in shame and wonder tomorrow?
Thanks for posting Willow's poem.
thank you for this post on memorial day.
A very nice post on Memorial Day. Sadly, it no longer honors all the dead but shifts the emphasis on veterans. I served during the Korean War but I still think our old "Decoration Day" was more meaningful and I wrote about it.
My look back to the good old days on Decoration Day
I love Willow and follow her daily (or try). That is how I found you!
Lovely Blog!
Bravo to you!
I was lucky to be Blessed with a great sense of love, pride and surounded by loved ones to make the birth of my children a joyous one without depression. (Although I suffer today from depression). Anyway, I think your blog is important and helpful to others and thank you, and applaude you for this mighty Blog.
May you be Blessed in all you do & write!
Excellent post, thank you.
This is so interesting. My hairdresser and I were each talking about our struggles with depression – mine postpartum and hers a lifelong struggle with depression. We made the statement that we wondered what people did before there were things like medication and other methods of treatment for postpartum depression. Now we know. It's so unfortunate that there wasn't help for them back then. I'm thankful that we've come as far as we have. Thanks for posting this.
Awesome! Really very nice poems