Content warning: suicidal ideation
“I don’t want to live anymore,” I confessed to my doctor when I was six months pregnant. After a standard check-up, he asked if there was anything else I needed to share. For reasons I couldn’t fully comprehend—perhaps a desperate plea for assistance or simply a lack of energy to hold back—I voiced my true feelings.
What happened next remains hazy, akin to memories of that first high school party when you sampled your first drink. I distinctly recall my doctor firmly approaching the perinatal psychiatry department, insisting I needed to be seen that day. He was determined, like a commander leading his troops. Unfortunately, they couldn’t accommodate me right away. A month-long wait loomed ahead of me, a seemingly endless stretch that made me wonder if I could even survive another thirty days.
My doctor and I deliberated about whether I should be admitted to a psychiatric ward, but the thought of hospital food at 28 weeks pregnant felt overwhelmingly discouraging. After battling intense morning sickness that had me vomiting frequently during the first half of my pregnancy, finally being able to eat and keep food down was my only source of comfort. I promised that if I could go home, I would be fine. In a way, I wasn’t lying; “fine” is relative. When you’re accustomed to feeling persistently suicidal, merely surviving can feel like a triumph. I left his office, treated myself to a breakfast sandwich, and hopped into an Uber headed home.
For the past few years, I had grown comfortable discussing my mental health challenges. I faced generalized anxiety disorder, persistent depressive disorder, and complex post-traumatic stress disorder—issues stemming from a troubled upbringing marked by trauma and few therapeutic resources. However, my perspective shifted dramatically once I became pregnant.
Pregnant women are expected to embody the role of a protective vessel for their babies. We are warned against consuming anything deemed risky, like sushi or certain juices, to avoid harming our unborn children. Friends and family frequently call to remind us to take care and avoid accidents, as though our worth is now solely tied to the well-being of the baby. Consequently, admitting to suicidal thoughts feels like an act of betrayal against that role.
While my baby was deeply wanted, my pregnancy was fraught with challenges I never anticipated. I didn’t want the fear of miscarriage that sent me rushing to the ER, nor the persistent nausea that forced me to excuse myself from meetings to vomit outside. I also didn’t want to lose an organ due to my expanding uterus pushing my right kidney out of place, something we discovered during an anatomy scan.
I didn’t wish to die; rather, I was overwhelmed by the pressures of creating life and the anxiety surrounding my baby’s health, which was often at odds with my own well-being. The relentless demands of pregnancy felt unmanageable, a role no one could fulfill for even a moment.
Even after seeking help, the journey remained rocky. A psychiatrist prescribed anti-anxiety medication to alleviate my distress, but the pharmacist hesitated to fill my Ativan prescription. “I just don’t feel comfortable giving this to a pregnant woman,” he said. Tears streamed down my face as I walked home, feeling desperate for relief I wasn’t sure how to find.
The isolation I felt due to my suicidal thoughts was debilitating. Friends distanced themselves when I hinted at my struggles, and the societal stigma surrounding pregnancy and mental health made me feel like a pariah. I felt monstrous for having thoughts of self-harm, particularly as I navigated the complexities of motherhood and societal expectations.
The culmination of my struggles peaked when I called a suicide hotline at 39 weeks, desperate to hold on until my baby arrived. I endured labor six days later, and when my epidural failed, I listened to people tell me, “You’re doing great!” But how could they know? I was merely trying to survive, feeling powerless in a situation I was expected to embrace.
When I finally held my daughter for the first time, I was filled with gratitude. I was relieved to have made it through the trials of pregnancy. Yet, even that moment was tinged with shame, as I grappled with how close I had come to abandoning her.
In conversations with other mothers, I often joked about my morning sickness but never mentioned my suicidal thoughts. I feared judgment, worried that someone might deem me unworthy of my beautiful baby, who deserved a mother far better than I perceived myself to be.
As I write this, I still wrestle with anxiety. I worry that you, the reader, might think of me as a monster for considering harming a wanted child. Yet, I continue to share this story in hopes that someone can resonate with my experience, understanding that difficult thoughts don’t define a person’s worth.
Carrying my daughter was the best worst experience of my life, and I hope to connect with someone who can relate to that sentiment.
For further insights, check out this blog post, or visit Make a Mom for expert advice on home insemination. Additionally, this resource provides valuable information on pregnancy and insemination.
Search Queries:
- suicidal thoughts during pregnancy
- mental health challenges for expectant mothers
- support for pregnant women with depression
- how to cope with anxiety during pregnancy
- understanding perinatal mental health
Summary:
The article explores the complex and often taboo subject of suicidal thoughts during pregnancy. The author shares her personal experiences, highlighting the overwhelming pressures and mental health challenges faced by pregnant women. Despite societal expectations to be joyful and nurturing vessels for their children, many women struggle silently with their mental health. By discussing her journey, the author hopes to break the stigma and offer understanding to those who may feel alone in their struggles.
Leave a Reply