Updated: Jan. 3, 2020
When I saw that fifth positive pregnancy test, I realized I was definitely expecting my third child. At 41, this wasn’t in my plans. Even my doctor was skeptical when I called to share the news, as my hormone levels indicated less than a 5% chance of conceiving naturally. Yet, against the odds, here I was.
For years, my husband, Mark, had been keen on having another child while I was ambivalent, leaning more towards “no” than “let’s do it.” Coming from a family of three boys, he thought more kids equated to more joy. However, the thought of raising another child filled me with dread.
I often reflected on the mother I had been during my daughters’ early years, and it made me shudder. I didn’t want to revisit the relentless challenges that had plagued my past self—the anxiety and fatigue that had made me irritable. I constantly worried if I was making the right choices and felt utterly drained by the demands of motherhood.
I tried to mask my negative feelings, hoping to shield my sweet girls from my struggles, but I wasn’t always successful. I lost my temper too often, cried more than I cared to admit, and genuinely felt like I was failing as a mother. When my daughters would embrace me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t deserve their affection. I dismissed my husband’s compliments about my parenting, unable to accept that he saw me as a good mom.
In hindsight, I recognize that I dealt with postpartum depression after my first and, to some extent, my second child. I was too ashamed to share my feelings with anyone, fearing that it meant I didn’t love my daughters or that I was somehow a bad person who couldn’t find joy in motherhood. I had been raised with the belief that I should be able to overcome anything if I just tried hard enough, so I didn’t seek help; I convinced myself I could manage my fears and insecurities alone.
After my first daughter was born, I maintained a flexible consulting job and resisted hiring a nanny. Instead, I relied on babysitters for client meetings and worked during my baby’s naps or late at night after nursing. I was exhausted, yet I felt compelled to be the sole caregiver for my child. I had longed to be a mother, and I was determined to take on that role fully.
When my second daughter arrived two and a half years later, I knew I couldn’t keep up with my work commitments. Instead of finding childcare, I chose to quit and embrace full-time motherhood, convinced that focusing solely on parenting would lead to greater happiness.
However, depression doesn’t simply vanish, even if you pretend it does. I developed coping mechanisms, such as taking deep breaths, just like I taught my daughters, and I made it a point to hire a housekeeper to alleviate some household burdens. I also tried to limit the pressure of arranging playdates and extracurricular activities, allowing my husband to take part in parenting rather than insisting on doing it all myself. I worked on recognizing and appreciating the little victories—like my oldest learning to read or my youngest riding her tricycle joyfully. Although I managed to suppress my sadness most of the time, it didn’t mean it had disappeared.
Just as my youngest daughter was preparing for kindergarten, I discovered I was unexpectedly pregnant again. The thought of returning to the sleepless nights and exhausting days was daunting. I didn’t want to repeat the cycle of feeling depleted and ashamed, fearing I was damaging my child with my negativity. If I was going to have a third child, I needed help—a full-time nanny.
Realizing that I needed assistance was a revelation, albeit an uncomfortable one. Acknowledging the depression that motherhood had triggered in me and admitting I couldn’t manage it alone filled me with shame. I felt embarrassed by the idea of having help while I stayed home full-time with a newborn again.
While being able to afford full-time support felt indulgent and privileged, asking for help was a massive relief. With this new baby, I would have the support I needed to navigate my emotions. I could hand my little one to a caring adult while I took the time to care for myself, allowing me to return to motherhood feeling more balanced and present.
I hired our nanny a few weeks before my third daughter was born. I’m not exaggerating when I say that having her around nearly every day for four years transformed me into a better mom. Knowing she was there to support me and my daughters eased some of my anxiety and sadness. Therapy, too, played a significant role in my journey.
Now that my youngest is in kindergarten and her sisters are in middle school and high school, I’ve returned to a part-time job. It can be challenging to recognize what we need as mothers, let alone ask for it. If you find yourself in a similar situation, please don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My experience may not resonate with everyone, but the underlying message remains: We don’t have to navigate motherhood alone. For more on this topic, check out this insightful post on home insemination.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, Jenna Thompson shares her journey of becoming a mother for the third time at 41, grappling with postpartum depression, and ultimately discovering the value of hiring a full-time nanny. She emphasizes the importance of seeking help, acknowledging that motherhood doesn’t have to be faced alone, and encourages other mothers to recognize their own needs and reach out for support.