The journey of motherhood can be incredibly draining—something we can all agree on. I recall one day feeling so exhausted that I forgot whether shredded cheese needed refrigeration; my partner later found it in the microwave. On another occasion, I stepped into the shower without removing my nursing bra and underwear. At one point, I even blanked on my own son’s name.
As new parents, we all have those moments when fatigue clouds our minds. My friend calls it “Swiss cheese brain.” It’s easy to overlook little things or forget tasks. But for me, it was compounded by the overwhelming weight of postpartum depression (PPD). Because of this, much of my son’s first year feels like a blur. When I look back at photos from that time, it’s like gazing at strangers; I barely recognize the moments captured.
PPD has had a profound impact on my experience of motherhood, casting a shadow over my son’s early days and beyond. Now, five years later, I’m beginning to confront how deeply it affected me. One of the hardest realizations I face is the time taken from me and my baby—time I can never reclaim. I was physically present every day, but emotionally, I was not there. My experience of motherhood was mechanical; I was overwhelmed by depression and my sole focus was ensuring my son was healthy. Happiness felt out of reach.
And I’m angry about it.
Sadly, my story, while personal, is not unique. Research indicates that 1 in 7 new moms experience PPD, and that statistic only accounts for those diagnosed. Few women navigate new motherhood without emotional or physical scars. I certainly didn’t escape unscathed.
My PPD began to rear its head about a week after my son was born. It creeps in slowly, often mistaken for ordinary exhaustion. My brain would tell me lies—“You’re a terrible mother”—which would be followed by a good day, making me dismiss it as just part of the new mom chaos. But soon enough, the darkness would return with thoughts like, “Your family would be better off without you.” I was drowning in depression before I understood what was happening.
I battled insomnia, moments of rage (never directed at my baby but often toward walls or kitchen cabinets), and suicidal thoughts. I feared seeking help would lead to being hospitalized or, worse, having my son taken away from me. Bonding with him was a struggle, and I was so emotionally detached that I couldn’t appreciate motherhood. My days revolved around survival: feed him, change him, get him to sleep—repeat. I believed my only worth lay in breastfeeding, and once that chapter was over, I planned to end my life. I had a date in my mind and knew exactly how I would execute it.
Fortunately, I sought help before it got to that point. With medication and therapy, I gradually began to reclaim my life. I finally started to enjoy my baby and embrace motherhood.
It would be nice if my journey concluded there, neatly wrapped up. But as anyone dealing with mental health knows, it’s complex. I faced setbacks, medication adjustments, and the trials of everyday life. Just as PPD crept in slowly, it also left in a staggered manner. I take daily medication and may continue to do so indefinitely. I’m a work in progress. Recently, though, I find myself yearning for the baby with chubby legs and sweet baby talk. I couldn’t appreciate him then; I wished for the days to pass. Now that I’m healthy, I regret not being able to cherish those moments.
I’d give anything to hold him as a baby once more, to be fully present in those fleeting moments that I missed back then. Motherhood transformed me fundamentally—it opened me up in beautiful ways but also shattered me. The most painful realization is the little baby I never fully connected with. He’s wonderful now, but he was equally perfect back then, and I just couldn’t see it.
I remind myself to be kind to my past self. Every mother faces exhaustion, pain, and struggles. It wasn’t only me; my mind simply wasn’t functioning correctly. I’m not wishing for a complete do-over, just a longing to have been healthier and more present.
Summary
This heartfelt reflection by a mother reveals the profound impact of postpartum depression on her early motherhood experience. She shares her journey from survival mode, where she was physically present but emotionally absent, to a place of healing and self-acceptance. Though she grapples with the time lost with her baby, she emphasizes the importance of mental health support and the ongoing journey of motherhood.
For more insights on motherhood and personal experiences, check out this blog post and resources like Make a Mom or Cleveland Clinic’s information on IUI.
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