Updated: November 24, 2020 | Originally Published: December 14, 2013
After a grueling 30-hour labor that ended in a c-section, I was met with a whirlwind of challenges. From breastfeeding hurdles due to my baby’s tongue tie to dealing with colic, the early days of motherhood were anything but easy. Yet, I often find myself needing to justify my postpartum anxiety.
Around six weeks after the birth of my daughter, Lily, everything hit me like a ton of bricks. The sleepless nights, the constant crying, and the overwhelming worry coalesced into a palpable sense of dread each morning. It felt like I was being weighed down by a cement block while simultaneously being stretched in all directions. Getting to the shower felt like running a marathon, and I just wanted to crawl out of my skin.
Society often romanticizes those initial days and weeks with a newborn, insisting they should be filled with joy. While I loved Lily dearly, I was also crushed under a mountain of anxiety. I managed to care for her, but I was neglecting my own needs—food lost its flavor, sleep eluded me, and my mind was a relentless storm of future worries. I’d go through the motions: feeding, changing, singing, but my thoughts were racing ahead, forecasting potential disasters. I felt like a ghost—present for Lily but absent for myself.
The fear of judgment kept me from reaching out; I worried others would expect the radiant new mom I wasn’t. I kept convincing myself it was just a phase, the infamous “baby blues,” but it only intensified. I felt like a failure, utterly ashamed. I vividly remember a moment when my mom was feeding me yogurt, and I couldn’t even manage to swallow.
One particularly harrowing morning, I woke up in a panic, feeling like I might collapse from exhaustion and hunger—24 hours had passed since I last ate, and my heart was racing. I hit my lowest point, yearning to be better for my family and, most importantly, for Lily. My loved ones, witnessing my struggle, encouraged me to seek help.
I reached out to my midwife and began medication that was safe for breastfeeding. I joined a support group and took tiny steps toward recovery. The first two weeks waiting for the medication to take effect felt like an eternity, but slowly, I began to feel a glimmer of hope. Even now, while some days remain tough and anxiety creeps back in, I push myself to face new challenges with Lily.
If only I had understood the anxiety component of postpartum life earlier. I had always heard about postpartum depression, but my experience was more about constant worry—what if she cried endlessly? What if I couldn’t soothe her? What if I wasn’t producing enough milk? The racing thoughts never seemed to pause.
To all the moms out there, know that you’re not alone. Experiencing postpartum anxiety or depression doesn’t diminish your worth as a mother (I remind myself of this daily). I’ve never stopped caring for Lily. I’m still breastfeeding her, albeit with a bottle, and I shower her with love every day, anxiety and all.
For more insights and support on this topic, you can check out our other blog post here. If you’re looking for resources on fertility and home insemination, Medical News Today offers excellent information. And for those seeking quality insemination kits, Make a Mom is a great authority on the subject.
In summary, my journey through postpartum anxiety has taught me the importance of seeking help and understanding that it’s okay to not be okay. I’m learning to give myself grace and recognizing that being a mother doesn’t mean having to be perfect.