“I’m not even excited about becoming a mom anymore,” I confided to my doctor, tears streaming down my face. “I just want this to be over.” Guilt washed over me as I avoided my partner’s gaze, ashamed of my feelings. Even now, I struggle with the weight of those words.
My battle with postpartum depression kicked off in the final trimester of my first pregnancy. The last month was a sleepless nightmare; I found myself up six to eight times each night for bathroom trips—no exaggeration! My back ached like I’d been lifting weights, and my hands and feet swelled to balloon-like proportions. But the worst part? The relentless anxiety that shadowed every moment of my pregnancy.
Counting down the weeks only made my anxiety spiral. From the moment I discovered I was expecting, I was glued to weekly updates. I was that person on social media, obsessively searching hashtags like #12weeks and #25weeks. My life felt like a never-ending game of waiting—not exactly the joyful anticipation I had imagined.
Anxiety has been my lifelong companion, making some moments easier to manage than others. Unfortunately, my pregnancies and the postpartum period took the cake for the most challenging times I’ve faced. My mind continually spun “what if” scenarios, worrying about tragedies that might never occur. In the early stages of pregnancy, I couldn’t shake the fear of miscarriage—especially since I was a twin and my mom had lost my sister at 20 weeks. Surviving to that milestone felt like a Herculean task.
Once I hit 20 weeks, my anxiety shifted to labor and delivery. I shared my concerns with my OB at one of my first appointments. He was a seasoned doctor with years of experience under his belt, which is why we chose him. But when I brought up my anxiety, he casually said, “Just don’t worry so much about burning the mashed potatoes!” Ouch. I was seeking understanding, not dismissive comments.
After a rather alarming anatomy scan, where he mentioned I should avoid Googling my son’s two-vessel umbilical cord (like that was going to help!), I decided it was time for a new doctor. Pro tip for any healthcare professionals out there: advising an anxious mom not to Google something is probably not the best move.
Now, let’s be real—I despised being pregnant. Some may think I’m heartless for admitting it, but I felt trapped in this painful illusion that pregnancy meant indulging in endless cravings and lounging around. Instead, I was monitored for weight gain and worked until the day before my scheduled induction. And when I dared to voice my struggles, people would say, “It’ll all be worth it when you hold your sweet baby.” Really? Will it?
By the time I reached 38 weeks, I was at my wit’s end. My doctor asked if I had thoughts of self-harm (I didn’t) but insisted I try some sleep medication. I hesitated—I hadn’t taken anything during my pregnancy—but he assured me it was for the best.
Creating life is a miraculous journey, but for me, it felt more like a tumultuous rollercoaster of discomfort and anxiety. I want to assure other moms that it’s perfectly fine to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay if your pregnancy doesn’t fit the “glowing” stereotype. We often feel pressured to sugarcoat our experiences, fearing that honesty will betray our fellow women or our children. The truth is, open conversations about anxiety and depression during pregnancy are vital. The more we discuss these challenges, the less stigma we’ll face.
If you suspect you might be experiencing postpartum depression or need additional support, check out this resource for help. And for those considering home insemination, this article provides great insights and tips.
In summary, navigating anxiety and depression during pregnancy is a struggle many face, and it’s important to acknowledge those feelings. Sharing our experiences can empower others to seek help and foster a more supportive community.