My first pregnancy was a delightful breeze. It was the quintessential experience that everyone talks about: snapping weekly bump photos next to fruits I couldn’t pronounce, prenatal yoga sessions with fellow moms-to-be, indulging in copious amounts of ice cream, and sailing through without a hitch. So, when I found out I was expecting my second child, I thought it would be a similar journey.
But by the fifth month, I was blindsided by what I later discovered was antenatal depression. I began to feel resentful towards my pregnancy and anxious about becoming a mother again. My patience dwindled; I found myself snapping at my partner for no reason. Social gatherings became a chore, as I lacked the energy to feign happiness or endure conversations about my noticeable baby bump.
In the quiet of my morning showers, I would check in with myself. Unfortunately, the only response was tears—hot against my face, mingling with the water, a stark reminder that my depression was firmly in control.
As a middle school special education teacher, I struggled to perform my job effectively. Some days, I was too exhausted to engage with my students for the full five hours, making it difficult to manage the classroom or redirect misbehavior. My short temper was a far cry from the nurturing demeanor I aimed to project, and after the final bell rang, I’d retreat to my desk, overwhelmed and in tears.
Sunday nights were particularly agonizing. The thought of another week filled with disappointing my students was paralyzing. I couldn’t formulate engaging lesson plans to prevent disruptions, nor could I enjoy time with my toddler. My mind spiraled with imaginary scenarios of chaos in the classroom, each thought quickening my heartbeat. Despite my struggles, I kept my feelings to myself. I felt ashamed for not radiating joy during this supposed blissful time.
I was puzzled as to why I felt this way. I had a lovely daughter, another on the way, a supportive partner, and a job I adored. I had never heard of antenatal depression before; I thought it must be my fault. I worried that my condition would harm my unborn daughter, potentially setting her up for future struggles with depression. While doctors often recommend continuing antidepressant medication during pregnancy, I was already at maximum dosage, leaving me feeling helpless.
The thought of delivery became daunting. Despite a smooth experience with my first, I feared I wouldn’t have the strength to endure labor. I envisioned an elective C-section as my only option, as it seemed the most manageable path forward.
I was also terrified of becoming my new daughter’s mother. Part of me hoped that after childbirth, I would instantly feel better, enveloped in the euphoria of new motherhood, but another part feared that my depression would persist, morphing into postpartum depression. I remembered a friend’s struggle with postpartum depression, and the thought of not bonding with my baby filled me with dread.
During a midwife appointment in my eighth month, I finally voiced my struggles. My tears spoke volumes. After discussing my experience, she reassured me that what I was feeling was not uncommon due to the surge of estrogen during pregnancy. She recommended increasing my antidepressants and suggested seeing a therapist specializing in maternity issues.
Since that pivotal moment, I’ve added another antidepressant, upped my dosage, and started weekly sessions with a maternity-focused therapist. I’ve even begun maternity leave six weeks before my due date to minimize stress. These steps have made my antenatal depression more manageable, but the shadow of it lingers.
Still, I share my story with only a select few trusted friends. I’m embarrassed to admit my struggles with a condition that often goes unspoken. Although postpartum depression has gained visibility, antenatal depression remains largely in the shadows. By stepping forward, I hope to help others feel less isolated and let them know that battling this condition is a sign of their love for their unborn child.
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Summary
This article reflects on the author’s experience with antenatal depression during her second pregnancy, contrasting it with her first joyful experience. It highlights the importance of discussing mental health during pregnancy, the challenge of seeking help, and the hope for others struggling with similar feelings.