It took me almost 2 years to get pregnant. Many of you are familiar with my fertility journey, but for those who aren’t, suffice it to say it was rough. 

So I thought I would be extra grateful when my beautiful baby Ella was born. Looking at every day like it’s an absolute miracle. 

But that wasn’t how it went down. 

Giving birth kind of sucked

After giving birth under rather traumatic circumstances (50 hours of labor followed by severe preeclampsia and an emergency c-section), I was exhausted and in horrible pain. I couldn’t walk. I could barely move. I hadn’t slept in days. I gained 20 pounds of water weight in the hospital from the preeclampsia. I was a mess.

It wasn’t the magical start that I had envisioned.

Newborns are hard! Especially for first time parents

It took me weeks to start to feel physically human again. All the while caring for a newborn and having disrupted sleep. I wanted so badly to feel supremely grateful, to feel the magic of motherhood. But my transition into motherhood was not at all what I thought it would be.

In addition to being physically out of whack, my anxiety levels were through the roof. I already had some baseline anxiety from my complicated pregnancy and shitty birth experience, but as a first time mother with NO CLUE what I was doing, I was constantly terrified that something would happen to Ella.

I’d check on her while sleeping to make sure she was still breathing. I was afraid to dress her, bathe her, put her in the carrier, take her outside, all for fear of hurting her in some way. I was afraid that I wouldn’t know how to soothe her or get her to go to sleep. I started dreading bed-time because I knew it would only be a matter of minutes (or an hour if I was lucky) before I heard the cries again. I felt unworthy, not good enough, unprepared, and inept.

As an accomplished high-achiever, this was not a fun feeling for me. Being out of control. Not knowing what to do.

I made hard circumstances worse by judging and shaming myself

To make matters worse, Ella was a colicky baby, which means that she cried a lot. Sometimes I’d be so worn out by all of the crying that I’d wonder if this was all a mistake. And then I’d shame myself for feeling that way- how dare I be such a bad, ungrateful mother when so many of my friends who were still struggling with infertility would kill to be in my shoes.

And of course, the cherry on the cake is that this was all going on in the midst of the first Omicron surge in the dead of winter. Since I was so anxious about something happening to Ella, I barely left the house and isolated myself from friends and family.

Just an aside here - anyone who went through a health challenge, infertility, pregnancy or parenthood during the pandemic deserves a fucking medal. 

But of course, I didn’t feel that way at the time. I just kept judging myself for not feeling the way I was supposed to, the way I thought I would, the way a “good mother” would feel. 

Postpartum depression is normal and treatable

Thank God I had a therapist during this time who specialized in infertility and postpartum issues. A few months into motherhood she gently suggested that it sounded like I had postpartum depression (and probably postpartum anxiety too). She helped me normalize my experience and stop judging myself for something that was largely biological and out of my control. 

At first I was resistant to taking any medications because I had convinced myself that I had to be a good mother “naturally,” but after talk therapy wasn’t producing the results I wanted fast enough, I finally decided that I owed it to my daughter and to myself to give us a chance at having the experience I’d dreamed of. The experience of motherhood without the cloud of postpartum depression. 

Within a few weeks, those clouds started to dissipate. I started to feel better. Talk therapy began to feel more impactful. I was able to appreciate more moments with Ella and understand that my feelings were normal and did not mean that I was a bad mother. 

I finally got to experience the magic of motherhood

I regained my strength. I started working again. Spring came and I began to meet up with people in person. Ella got vaccinated. She began to grow out of her colic and be more interactive.

The gratitude within me began to grow. My heart expanded as my fears and judgments subsided. I now am able to fully appreciate the beautiful miracle in front of me. It’s not perfect. There are still hard days. But I have overcome postpartum depression and am now beginning to love my new identity as a mother.

Postpartum depression (PPD) occurs in approximately 10-20% of women (postpartum anxiety (PPA) disorders are estimated at even higher rates), and is even more common in women who have experienced infertility. Non-birthing partners (women and men), adoptive parents, and parents whose child was born via surrogacy can also have PPD and PPA. 

PPD and PPA are not something to be ashamed of. They are medical conditions with a good prognosis when treated properly. If you or someone you love is experiencing feelings you think might be PPD or PPA, don’t wait. Get help immediately. For yourself, and for your baby.