April 18, 2023
My baby boy jolts awake from a less-than-stellar nap in his stroller, letting out a wail that sends my heart racing. As I sit on the floor cushion at the mom-and-baby meetup, embarrassment washes over me. I clumsily rise, still feeling out of place in my own body, and rush to comfort him.
But nothing seems to work. He refuses the pacifier, shows no interest in his rattle, and I’m too drained to nurse him again; I feel devoid of energy in every sense. Heat rises to my cheeks as I realize I’m about to leave the gathering, and the sympathetic glances from the other mothers sting. Their babies are either happily cooing or peacefully sleeping in slings, while I’m caught in a storm of anxiety and frustration. I had hoped for camaraderie and support, to reconnect with the joyful, carefree person I used to be. Instead, I’m grappling with feelings of resentment toward my newborn for interrupting my social time.
This isn’t who I am, I think.
As I leave, checking for any dropped toys or mittens, a wave of anger crashes over me. It seems absurd to feel upset with a baby—aren’t they supposed to be innocent? Yet as we make our way home, his cries echo in my ears, amplifying my sense of helplessness and failure. Maybe my anger is really directed at myself. After all, I chose this path; I wasn’t an accidental mom. I wanted this—at least, that’s what I thought.
Once we’re finally home, I collapse onto the bed in a desperate attempt to nurse him back to sleep. He latches for a moment, but soon enough, he’s crying again. In a moment of sheer frustration, I shout, “Why won’t you sleep?” and, in a fit of rage, I grab a pillow, pressing it down for a fleeting second before bursting into tears. I pull it away, and now we are both crying.
My three-month-old baby. My breaking point.
Looking back, it’s clear what I truly needed: more childcare support, a better milk supply, and a generous dose of self-compassion. I struggled through those dark days, supplementing where I could, but what I ultimately needed was to embrace my transformation into motherhood. I resisted the inevitable changes to my identity, body, and life, unknowingly intensifying my postpartum depression.
Let me clarify. As women, we are inherently wired to nurture — physically, emotionally, and psychologically. The mother archetype runs deep within us, supported by hormonal shifts that change our brains permanently. “Mommy brain” is a real phenomenon; our brains adapt to the challenges of motherhood.
Once a child is born, we are forever altered. Resisting this transformation can feel like fighting against a force of nature. In our modern era, women enjoy freedoms that were once limited, and while these choices are empowering, they can complicate the transition into motherhood. After tasting freedom, we may fear losing our identities when we become mothers.
For some women, the shift into motherhood feels like a homecoming. For others, like me, it can be a painful struggle. The arrival of a first child signifies a loss — the death of our former selves. As we navigate the joyful yet overwhelming waves of sleep deprivation, we begin to forge a new identity. Although you might not recognize yourself at first, over time, you will learn to embrace the new you.
As your baby grows, and they start to sleep longer and reach milestones, you will gradually reclaim aspects of your former self. The intricate tapestry that is you will become richer and more dynamic. Your inner archetypes can find balance, allowing for adventure even amidst the demands of motherhood.
In countries like Canada and the UK, mothers receive 37 and 52 weeks of maternity leave, respectively. In contrast, the U.S. offers only 12 weeks. It’s no wonder postpartum depression is so common—we are expected to return to our pre-baby lives and “get our bodies back” while caring for an infant. This expectation is illogical and contrary to our instincts. There is no going back.
New mothers need ample time to acclimate to their new roles, and the lack of support from societal systems can be infuriating. But what hurts more is when we fail to show ourselves kindness and patience during this monumental transition. I certainly didn’t.
My advice to new mothers is simple: focus on surviving each day. Seek help, accept that you’ve changed, and realize that life will never be the same. For the first few months, prioritize just keeping you and your baby fed and clean. You can manage it.
For more information on navigating motherhood, you can check out this article about at-home insemination kits. If you’re curious about maternity leave policies, this resource offers valuable insights. For comprehensive information on pregnancy, IVF Babble is a fantastic resource.
In summary, postpartum depression is not a personal failing, but rather a complex response to the profound changes of motherhood. Embracing these changes and allowing yourself time to adapt is crucial. Remember, it’s okay to ask for help and prioritize your well-being during this transformative time.