My first pregnancy was a breeze, fitting perfectly into the picture-perfect narrative women often hear. I took weekly bump photos, comparing my growing baby to various exotic fruits, practiced prenatal yoga with friends, indulged in ice cream, and experienced no complications. Therefore, when I became pregnant with my second child, I expected a similar joyful journey.
However, around the fifth month, I found myself grappling with what I later learned was antenatal depression. I started feeling resentful of my pregnancy and fearful about becoming a mother again. Irritability crept in, leading me to snap at my partner, Mark, for no apparent reason. I was fatigued and emotionally drained, avoiding social gatherings because I lacked the energy to pretend I was happy. Each time someone asked about my pregnancy glow, I felt the weight of my discontent.
During my morning showers, I would check in with myself, but the answer was always tears—hot streams that blended with the water, a painful reminder of the grip depression had on me.
As a middle school special education teacher, I struggled to perform my job effectively. Many days, I felt too exhausted to engage with my students or manage classroom behavior. On days when students misbehaved, I knew they sensed my fatigue and were pushing my limits. I lacked the energy for positive reinforcement and instead found myself becoming short-tempered and grumpy, jeopardizing the relationships I had built with my students. After class, I would often close the door, sit at my desk, and cry.
Sunday nights became especially unbearable. I felt paralyzed by anxiety, dreading another week of feeling like I was failing my students. I couldn’t plan engaging lessons or enjoy time with my 2-year-old daughter, Lily. Instead, my mind spiraled into hypothetical scenarios of classroom conflicts that left my heart racing.
Yet, I kept quiet about my struggles. I felt ashamed that I didn’t exude the joy typically associated with pregnancy. I had every reason to be happy—a beautiful daughter, a supportive partner, and a job I loved. But I had never heard of anyone experiencing depression during pregnancy, leading me to believe there was something inherently wrong with me.
I worried about how my depression might affect my unborn daughter, fearing I was setting her up for a future filled with similar struggles. Doctors often advise women with a history of depression to remain on their medication during pregnancy, as the effects of antidepressants are usually less harmful than enduring prolonged stress in the womb. Unfortunately, I was already at the maximum dose of Lexapro, leaving me with limited options. I felt I was failing my daughter before she was even born.
As I anticipated labor, I feared I wouldn’t have the strength to endure the process. I wanted to be a passive participant and considered an elective C-section, as I didn’t feel capable of handling contractions. I was also terrified of not being able to bond with my new daughter. I feared that the depression would continue post-delivery, transforming into postpartum depression.
Months earlier, a close friend experienced postpartum depression, locking herself away and feeling disconnected from her baby. Watching her struggle was heartbreaking, and now I found myself facing a similar fate, knowing exactly what I would be missing if I fell into that darkness.
At a check-up in my eighth month, my midwife asked how I was feeling. My tears spoke louder than words. After discussing my silent battle, she reassured me that what I was experiencing was not uncommon. “It’s due to the increased estrogen levels during pregnancy,” she explained, suggesting that I consult my psychiatrist to adjust my medication and see a therapist specializing in maternity.
Since that moment, I have added another antidepressant, doubled the dosage, and started weekly therapy sessions. Additionally, I took maternity leave six weeks before my due date to lessen stress. These changes have helped make my antenatal depression more manageable, but it certainly hasn’t disappeared.
Despite my progress, I still don’t talk about it often. I have confided only in my closest friends, who provide support instead of judgment. The stigma surrounding antenatal depression still lingers, overshadowed by the more publicized postpartum struggles. I’m sharing my story in hopes that other women experiencing similar feelings will know they are not alone. This illness does not define a person’s ability to be a loving parent; your fight through it is a testament to the love you already have for your child.
For more information on pregnancy and related topics, you can explore resources like Healthline’s article on intrauterine insemination or visit Make a Mom’s fertility journey. Additionally, for insights on home insemination, check out our other post here.
Summary:
Pregnancy can sometimes come with unexpected challenges like antenatal depression, which is often overlooked. Many women experience this condition but may feel isolated or ashamed. Open communication, seeking help, and understanding that these feelings do not reflect one’s ability to parent can pave the way for healing. Sharing experiences and support can empower others to find comfort in their struggles.