My first pregnancy was a breeze, embodying everything society leads women to expect: charming weekly bump photos likening my growing baby to delightful fruits, prenatal yoga sessions with fellow expectant mothers, indulgence in ice cream, and a lack of complications. Naturally, when I became pregnant with my second child, I anticipated a similar experience.
However, around the fifth month, I encountered what I would later identify as antenatal depression. Suddenly, I found myself resenting my pregnancy and dreading the thought of becoming a mother again. My patience waned, and I snapped at my partner for no reason. Social gatherings became daunting; I lacked the energy to feign happiness or engage in conversations about my visibly growing belly. I was done pretending to embrace the joy of pregnancy.
In the solitude of my morning showers, I would check in with my feelings, only to be met with tears that blended seamlessly with the water, yet felt like a scalding reminder of my persistent depression. As a middle school special education teacher, my ability to teach effectively dwindled. Many days, I was too exhausted to navigate my classroom, checking in with my students or maintaining control. When disruptions occurred, I knew my students sensed my fatigue, and I lacked the stamina to respond positively. Instead, I became irritable, jeopardizing the relationships I had carefully built throughout the school year. After the last class, I often found myself at my desk, crying.
Sunday nights were particularly harrowing, filled with anxiety about another week of perceived failures in my teaching. My mind spiraled with hypothetical scenarios that I feared I could not manage. I envisioned chaos in the classroom, my heart racing at the thought of conflicts I might encounter. Yet, I kept my struggles to myself, embarrassed by my lack of joy and feeling unworthy of my circumstances. Despite having a supportive partner, a lovely daughter, and a job I cherished, I was convinced something was wrong with me.
I worried that my depression would adversely affect my unborn daughter, potentially setting her on a path to struggle with mental health issues. Although doctors often advise pregnant women dealing with depression to continue their medications, I was already at the maximum dosage of Lexapro. I faced the harsh reality of exposing my child to the effects of both prenatal depression and medication.
When I envisioned the delivery, I felt overwhelmed, doubting my ability to endure labor or care for my newborn. I wanted to surrender to a passive role, hoping for an elective C-section as I lacked the strength to confront the challenges ahead. The thought of becoming my second child’s mother filled me with trepidation. Part of me believed my mood would shift once the baby arrived, while another feared that postpartum depression would follow, blocking me from bonding with my child.
A few months after my first daughter was born, a friend experienced severe postpartum depression. I watched helplessly as she struggled, unable to connect with her baby. Now, I was terrified that I might face a similar fate, fully aware of what I would miss.
At the beginning of my eighth month, during an appointment with my midwife, I finally expressed my feelings. My tears spoke louder than words. She reassured me that my experiences were not uncommon, attributing them to hormonal changes. She encouraged me to consult my psychiatrist about adjusting my medication and to seek therapy with someone who specializes in maternity.
Since then, I have added a second antidepressant, increased the dosage, and begun weekly therapy sessions. I also initiated maternity leave six weeks before my due date to reduce stress. While these steps have made my antenatal depression more manageable, it has not completely vanished.
Still, I rarely talk about my experiences. I confide only in a few close friends who support rather than judge me. I feel embarrassed to suffer from a condition that remains largely unspoken, one I was unaware of until I was in its grip. While postpartum depression has gained visibility, antenatal depression remains in the shadows. I share my story now in hopes of helping other women feel less isolated and to show that struggling with this condition does not equate to failing your child even before birth. In fact, battling through such difficult moments showcases the love and dedication that already exists within you as a parent.
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Summary:
Antenatal depression can affect expectant mothers, often leading to feelings of resentment and anxiety about pregnancy and motherhood. It’s essential to recognize that struggling with these feelings does not define one’s ability to parent or love a child. Seeking support through therapy and medication adjustments can help manage symptoms. By sharing experiences, we can break the silence surrounding antenatal depression and support one another.