“Maybe now you’ll learn your place,” my mother-in-law sneered after my husband attacked me while I held our sick baby post-surgery. Weak and trembling, I locked us in the room and dialed one number. Minutes later, heavy boots kicked down the front door, and my husband’s face went pale as my father walked in wearing his general’s uniform and said…

man. He immediately went on the offensive.

“Isn’t it true that you were suffering from severe postpartum depression?” Clifford demanded, pacing before the jury. “Isn’t it true that you were overwhelmed, sleep-deprived, and prone to hysterical outbursts?”

“I was sleep-deprived because my newborn was ill and I had no help,” I countered smoothly, my voice continue reading …