My Journey into Motherhood
My first year as a new mama was pure magic. My pregnancy unfolded like a textbook—every symptom hitting right on cue: exhaustion, nausea, cramps, you name it! I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it knowing each symptom was proof of the pregnancy doing its thing, building a whole human inside of me. After 2.5 long hours of pushing, I welcomed my beautiful daughter, Ellie. With five months off work to bond, life felt perfect.
As an extrovert with a serious case of FOMO, I loved bringing my little buddy everywhere. After nights with friends, I’d drive home thinking, “The party isn’t over; Ellie’s coming with me!” Every challenge felt manageable, and I relished every moment.
What I didn’t realize was that my gratitude stemmed from the pain of a previous miscarriage and two long years of trying to conceive. The joy of finally becoming a mom made every struggle worthwhile.
Then came the surprise of my second pregnancy ten months later. This time, it was different. Balancing night shifts as a nurse and motherhood wore me down. The pregnancy symptoms were overwhelming, and I found myself gripped by anxiety and guilt. I felt ungrateful, struggling to enjoy this blessing while haunted by fears for my baby’s health and my daughter’s feelings about having a sibling.
Three months after my son Auggie’s birth, the weight of negativity and guilt crushed me. Despite having my dream job, a loving husband, and a beautiful life, I felt lost.
At eight months postpartum, I hit my breaking point. I was irritable, snapping over minor things, and drowning in despair. One night, I sobbed, contemplating whether to ask my sister to take off work to care for my kids because I felt incapable.
My journey into motherhood had taken a dark turn, but I was determined to find my way back. The darkness I felt didn’t match my reality; I had so much to be grateful for. So I finally listened to my husband and made an appointment with my OB. This alone lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. I knew help was near. I wanted nothing more than to just enjoy my beautiful kids and the life I was blessed with.
I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression, scoring a high 22 on the Edinburgh scale. My provider recommended counseling and medication—both stigmatized in my culture. I faced pushback from my family when I decided to start antidepressants.
Looking back, I wish I had sought help sooner instead of spending eight precious months battling this alone. Fast forward to now: I’m three months postpartum with my second son, Sammie, and I’m thriving! Though the past year and a half has had its struggles, the unbearable despair and rage are gone. Now, I can truly cherish the good times and navigate the challenges with a healthier mindset.
The key takeaway from my journey for fellow moms is this:
First, if something feels off postpartum, reach out to your OB immediately! Don’t hesitate. Second, stop comparing your struggles to others. I delayed seeking help because I thought others had it worse, but your challenges are valid, no matter the scale. You can only tackle your own battles.
To truly shine for your family and loved ones, you must prioritize your own well-being first. Remember, you deserve support, too! Embrace it and watch how it transforms your life.
