My doctor said I was in perfect health. But I could barely move

As told to Baila Vorhand by Raizel S.

While all new mothers are weak and tired, I was unusually exhausted following the birth of my second child. For months, I dragged myself through the day bleary-eyed, barely able to care for myself and my children.

I blamed my weakness and dizziness on the baby waking me up at night, but when my baby was 16 months old and sleeping through the night, and I still could barely put one foot in front of the other, I realized something really was wrong.

I figured I might need structure, stimulation, and a change of scenery, so I started working part time in my sister’s business. While I did enjoy seeing the blue sky on the way to work, I found that the tension of working made things worse.

And then came a sibling’s wedding, Purim, and Pesach.

Completely washed out after that, I got myself checked by a doctor, but he declared me to be of perfect health.

I’m blessed with opinionated sisters who drowned me in advice. One, who was feeling great on a cleansing diet, pushed me to try it. Enthusiastically hoping that this would be it, I stocked up on organic fruits and veggies, and whole grains. My desire to overcome my exhaustion motivated me sufficiently to spend the hours necessary to prepare my food. But after a few weeks with no improvement, I gave up.

Another sister recommended fermented foods, especially fermented borsht — it had helped her son’s immunity and her own digestion. Perhaps it would help me feel better. I dutifully downed the stuff, but to her chagrin and my own enormous frustration, I felt as exhausted as ever.

At this point I started suspecting that this was an emotionally rooted problem. I was feeling overwhelmed with caring for my kids, and I was full of anxiety over the fact that I wasn’t feeling well. Whenever things didn’t go my way — do they ever, for a mother of little children? — I’d feel myself getting tense all over.

I went to a psychologist, but she didn’t see anything wrong with me. “I know a chiropractor who has helped many people,” she told me.

Shelling out the hundreds of dollars he charged, I gave it a try. He was sure he knew exactly what my issue was and promised that after few sessions I’d start to feel a noticeable difference. Two, three, four times, but I didn’t feel one iota better. After three months, I stopped going to him.

Next was a reflexologist. Aside from massaging my feet, she recommended I get off caffeine and try a supremely salty fermented Japanese food — umeboshi. There was no change.

What would be? Was I doomed to spend the rest of my life feeling miserable?