My little one stirs awake from a less-than-ideal stroller nap, and the wailing begins. Instantly, I’m overcome with embarrassment and panic, especially since I’ve just found a seat on the floor at the mom and baby gathering. My body feels foreign, and I awkwardly rise to tend to my son.
Despite my best efforts to calm him, nothing seems to work. He refuses the pacifier, ignores his rattle, and I’ve just finished nursing, leaving me feeling drained—both physically and emotionally. As I notice the sympathetic glances from other mothers, whose babies either play quietly or sleep soundly, I feel a wave of anger wash over me. I had hoped for some much-needed social support today, wanting to feel like my old self—lighthearted and ready to share a laugh. But instead, I’m overwhelmed with anxiety and confusion, feeling resentment towards this tiny being for disrupting my social time.
As I leave the gathering, I’m filled with frustration—not just towards my son, but at myself. I chose this path; I wanted to be a mother. At least I thought I did.
Once home, after a challenging walk, I lay down with him, attempting to nurse him back to sleep. As he continues to cry, I lose my temper. “Why won’t you sleep?!” I yell in frustration, my emotions boiling over. In an unthinkable moment, I grab a pillow, feeling both rage and despair. Thankfully, I pull it away, and we both end up in tears.
Reflecting on that time, it’s clear I needed more support—more childcare so I could rest, perhaps adjustments to my milk supply, and above all, greater compassion for myself. I was fighting against my transformation into motherhood, resisting the changes taking place within me. This resistance only exacerbated my postpartum depression.
As women, we have a deep-rooted instinct to nurture in various ways. The mother archetype is ingrained in our psyches, shaped by hormones that foster love for our needy little ones. After giving birth, we undergo significant psychological and physiological changes. Resisting this transformation is like battling an unstoppable force of nature.
In today’s world, women have the freedom to choose paths beyond motherhood, such as careers and adventure, which can complicate the transition into motherhood. Many of us fear losing our identities, not wanting to pause our careers or adventures for the sake of parenting. For those of us who don’t instinctively feel at home in the mother role, this transition can be particularly painful. The birth of your first child often symbolizes the end of your former self.
During this tumultuous time, we are simultaneously celebrating and grieving while adapting to the demands of a newborn. It’s normal to feel lost, and though the journey is challenging, you will gradually become familiar with this new version of yourself. As your child grows, you’ll find ways to reintegrate parts of your former self, creating a richer, more complex identity.
In several countries, mothers are granted extended maternity leave—37 weeks in Canada, 52 weeks in the UK—while in the U.S., it’s only 12 weeks. This stark difference contributes to the prevalence of postpartum depression. New mothers are expected to resume their previous lives as if nothing has changed, which defies logic.
We need time to adjust, and the lack of support from societal structures can be disheartening. But more damaging is the lack of kindness we show ourselves during this monumental transition. My advice to new mothers is simple: focus on surviving each day. Don’t hesitate to ask for help, accept your new reality, and remember that for the first few months, your only priorities should be keeping you and your baby fed and comfortable.
For more in-depth insights on related topics, consider reading about home insemination techniques and how to boost fertility through supplements. Excellent resources are available, like those found at the Cleveland Clinic and Make a Mom.
Ultimately, the most important thing is to be gentle with yourself throughout this process.