My first experience with pregnancy was seamless, embodying all the joyful expectations society places on expectant mothers: weekly bump pictures likening my growing baby to various fruits, prenatal yoga sessions with friends, indulgent ice cream treats, and a smooth journey overall. So, when I found out I was pregnant with my second child, I did so without a second thought.
However, around the fifth month, I began experiencing what is known as antenatal depression. A sense of resentment towards my pregnancy emerged, accompanied by a growing fear of becoming a mother for the second time. I became irritable, snapping at my partner over trivial matters. Energy and patience dwindled, leading me to withdraw from social gatherings where I felt compelled to mask my true emotions. I dreaded the idea of pretending to be joyful, especially with my visibly growing belly.
During showers, I would take a moment to check in with myself, but the response was never articulated in words; it was always tears, indistinguishable from the water cascading down, yet feeling much hotter—a painful reminder of my ongoing struggle with depression.
As a middle school special education teacher, I found it increasingly difficult to perform my duties. Many days, I lacked the energy to engage with my students for the full five hours, missing the opportunity to connect and teach effectively. When my students acted out, throwing paper or chattering away, I sensed they were testing my limits, recognizing my fatigue. Instead of employing positive reinforcement, I responded with frustration, damaging the relationships I had worked hard to build. After my last class each day, I would close the door and let the tears flow.
Sunday nights became particularly agonizing, filled with dread for another week of feeling like I was failing my students. Anxiety paralyzed me, making it impossible to plan engaging lessons or truly enjoy my time with my two-year-old daughter. Conversations with my partner felt unproductive, as my mind was consumed with hypothetical scenarios I feared I could not navigate. I envisioned conflicts in the classroom, students arguing and shouting, and my heart raced at the thought of these imagined confrontations, leaving me feeling powerless.
Yet, I kept these feelings to myself. I felt ashamed for not embracing the radiant joy that pregnant women are supposed to embody. With a beautiful daughter and a supportive partner, I felt I had no valid reason to be depressed. I had never heard of anyone experiencing depression during pregnancy, leading me to believe I was alone in my struggle.
I was acutely aware that my mental health could impact my developing child, possibly setting her up for struggles with depression later in life. While doctors often recommend that women maintain their antidepressant regimen during pregnancy to mitigate stress-related risks, I had reached the maximum dose of my current medication, Lexapro. I worried about the implications of prenatal exposure to an SSRI on my daughter’s health. I felt like a failure before she even arrived.
The thought of delivery filled me with dread. I remembered how easily my first daughter had come into the world, but I feared I would lack the strength to endure labor this time. I wished for an elective C-section—anything to minimize my involvement. I was also terrified of becoming a mother to my new daughter. Part of me believed that once the baby was born, my depression would dissipate and I would revel in the joys of motherhood. Yet, another part feared that my struggles would persist and evolve into postpartum depression, leaving me incapable of nurturing my child.
A few months after the birth of my first daughter, a friend experienced severe postpartum depression. I watched helplessly as she withdrew from her baby, unable to breastfeed or even hold her. I grieved for her lost moments of bonding and now faced the possibility of a similar fate. If I developed postpartum depression, I would be acutely aware of what I was missing, which would only add to my anguish.
At an appointment in my eighth month, my midwife noticed my distress. My tears revealed what I couldn’t put into words. Upon discussing my silent struggles, I nervously asked her if my experiences were common. “Absolutely,” she reassured me. “It’s due to the estrogen your body produces during pregnancy. Some women begin to feel this way in the first trimester.” She suggested I consult my psychiatrist about increasing my medication and recommended therapy with a specialist in prenatal mental health.
Since then, I have added another antidepressant, increased its dosage, and begun weekly therapy sessions with a maternity-focused professional. Additionally, I decided to start my maternity leave six weeks before my due date to alleviate any external pressures. These steps have made my antenatal depression more manageable, though it hasn’t completely vanished.
Despite these changes, I still find it difficult to speak openly about my situation. I have confided only in a few trusted friends, fearing judgment for experiencing a condition that remains largely unacknowledged. While postpartum depression has gained visibility thanks to public discussions, antenatal depression often remains in the shadows. By sharing my story, I hope to connect with other women who may feel isolated in their experiences, reminding them that struggling with such a condition does not mean they are failing as mothers. Rather, the sheer act of fighting through these dark moments is a testament to their love and dedication to their children.
For further insights into managing fertility and understanding the journey of motherhood, you can explore resources like Boost Fertility Supplements and NHS’s Guide to Intrauterine Insemination.
Summary:
This article discusses the often-overlooked issue of antenatal depression, detailing the personal struggles of a mother-to-be who experiences significant emotional turmoil during her second pregnancy. It emphasizes the importance of speaking openly about mental health challenges in pregnancy and provides resources for further support.
Leave a Reply