For three years, I drifted through life in a haze. After battling major depressive disorder for nearly a decade, my mind and body reached a breaking point. At just 23, I became exhausted from pretending everything was okay. Emotionally drained and lost, I felt completely numb.
Suddenly, the simplest tasks became monumental challenges. Brushing my teeth felt like scaling Everest. I struggled to stay awake, and the idea of facing the day became unbearable. I eventually quit my job, opting instead for a full-time sleep routine.
During this period of hibernation, I was living in California, far from my family and friends in New York. The distance made it easy to mask my struggles. I constantly updated my social media to project a façade of normalcy, engaging only in brief conversations when I felt capable. To the outside world, I appeared fine.
However, my husband witnessed my downward spiral. He had been with me throughout my battle with depression, but this was a darker phase. I became a mere shadow of my former self, and he felt helpless as he watched me withdraw further. In a desperate attempt to help, he relocated us back to New York to be closer to my family. While he hoped this would encourage me to reconnect, I found it impossible to socialize. Despite his efforts, I was unwilling to help myself, and I sank deeper into despair.
So, I slept away three years. My couch became my bed, and I only roused myself to eat. Basic self-care fell by the wayside, leading to frequent UTIs because I couldn’t muster the energy to get up. I barely showered, and I gained 70 pounds during this time.
By April 2016, my marriage was on shaky ground. I was failing to be the partner I had promised to be, and my husband was weary of my refusal to fight the depression that consumed me. We drifted apart, and then everything changed.
On April 4, 2016, I awoke feeling unwell, jokingly suggesting to my husband that I might be pregnant. After throwing up multiple times and taking several tests, we confirmed the news. We were expecting a child, but we were far from ready—both financially and emotionally.
We argued over the implications of my pregnancy. I felt unfit to be a mother in my current state, unable to care for myself, let alone another human being. My husband was anxious, and I was overwhelmed at the thought of having to be awake long enough to raise a child. Yet, we chose to move forward.
Pregnancy was a tumultuous journey filled with illness, leading us back to our parents’ homes because of mounting medical bills. Despite the challenges, I tried to remain positive about the situation and excited for our baby. My husband worked tirelessly to save money, and we both felt the strain.
At my 16-week appointment, I had been hospitalized for almost a month. While I had decided to wait to learn the sex of our baby, I felt a desperate need for connection. “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” the doctor asked. My husband nodded, and I realized I needed this.
“It’s a girl,” the doctor said. Tears sprang to my eyes. “It’s Mia,” I whispered, and in that moment, I felt a shift. I was now a mother—albeit a struggling one.
With this new title came a rush of conflicting emotions. In the past, I had contemplated suicide as a way out of the darkness, but now I had someone who would depend on me more than I had ever depended on myself. The thought was terrifying and grounding at the same time.
As my labor approached, I knew I had to make a significant change. I forced myself to embrace life, even though it was uncomfortable. I struggled to stay awake for extended periods, often questioning what to do with my newfound hours. But I persevered—I ate, brushed my teeth, showered, and tried to prepare for the responsibilities of motherhood.
Mia’s arrival was swift and surreal. She entered the world silently, gazing up at me as if we were lifelong friends. In that moment, an overwhelming sense of love and pride enveloped me. For the first time in years, I felt genuinely happy and proud of my body for bringing her into the world.
Motherhood did not just mean forcing myself to wake up; it ignited a desire within me to embrace life fully. I became aware of the beautiful moments I had previously overlooked. Though I still grapple with postpartum anxiety and PTSD from my pregnancy complications, I’m now awake to face those challenges with the support of my husband and my healthcare team.
I’m learning to navigate the complexities of motherhood, and while I still worry about Mia, I am grateful to be present for her.
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In summary, my journey through depression led me to motherhood, a transformative experience that forced me to confront my struggles and embrace life fully.