The Parts of Motherhood We Still Do Not Talk About Enough

For all the conversations we have started having about motherhood, pregnancy, birth and the enormous physical changes women go through, I still feel like one of the biggest parts of becoming a mother is too often discussed in a way that makes it sound far simpler than it really is. We are told to expect exhaustion, hormones, crying and overwhelm, yet when those feelings become frightening, persistent or completely different from the person we normally know ourselves to be, women can still feel ashamed and confused, as if we are somehow failing at the very moment everyone expects us to be glowing with happiness.

Postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety and postpartum psychosis are not the same thing, even though they are often pushed together into one vague idea of women struggling after having a baby. They can look very different, feel very different and require different levels of support, yet what connects them is the fact that they can happen during one of the most vulnerable periods of a woman's life, when her body has gone through something enormous and her entire reality may have changed almost overnight.

Postpartum depression is probably the one most people have at least heard of, but even then I think many people imagine only a new mother sitting sadly in a dark room and crying. Depression can look like that, of course, but it can also look like feeling empty, numb, detached from yourself or from your baby, constantly overwhelmed, unable to enjoy anything, deeply guilty because motherhood does not feel the way you thought it would, or trapped inside a life that everyone around you insists should make you feel grateful and happy.

One of the cruelest things about postpartum depression is the guilt that can come with it, because society has spent so much time romanticising motherhood that women who are struggling may start believing that something is fundamentally wrong with them. A woman can love her child more than anything and still be depressed. She can have wanted that baby for years and still find herself grieving her old life. She can look after her baby perfectly while feeling completely disconnected from herself. She can smile in photographs and still spend the rest of the day fighting thoughts and emotions she is terrified to admit out loud.

I think we need to be much more careful with the idea that a mother is naturally supposed to be endlessly selfless, endlessly grateful and deeply fulfilled every second of the day, because that fantasy leaves very little room for the complicated reality of becoming responsible for another human being while recovering physically, dealing with severe sleep deprivation, experiencing dramatic hormonal changes and adjusting to a completely new identity.

Postpartum anxiety can be equally debilitating, although it does not always receive the same recognition. Anxiety after having a baby can feel like a mind that refuses to switch off, constantly imagining something terrible happening and forcing you to stay alert because relaxing feels dangerous. A mother might repeatedly check whether her baby is breathing, panic over ordinary symptoms, obsess over feeding, sleep or illness, or feel consumed by frightening thoughts that she does not actually want to act on but cannot seem to stop having.

Those thoughts can be particularly distressing because many women become afraid of what the thoughts say about them, when unwanted intrusive thoughts are not the same as intentions or desires. The shame surrounding this can make someone stay silent when she desperately needs reassurance and professional support, especially if she is scared that admitting what is happening inside her mind will make people think she is a bad mother.

What I find particularly sad is how easily severe anxiety can be dismissed as a woman simply being overly protective or nervous because she is a new mother. People can joke about her worrying too much while she is living in a state of constant panic, barely sleeping even when the baby is sleeping, feeling physically sick from anxiety and spending every waking moment trying to prevent disasters that exist only in her mind.

Then there is postpartum psychosis, which is a completely different and far more urgent medical emergency. It is rare, but its seriousness means that every woman and everyone close to her should know that it exists. Postpartum psychosis can involve confusion, extreme changes in mood and behaviour, paranoia, delusions, hallucinations, severe agitation and a frightening loss of connection with reality, often developing suddenly in the days or weeks after giving birth.

This is not a woman being dramatic. This is not ordinary stress, lack of sleep or a mother simply needing to get herself together. Postpartum psychosis requires urgent medical help because the woman experiencing it may not understand that what she is seeing, hearing or believing is not real, and she may be at risk of harming herself or her baby. She needs immediate support, treatment and protection, not shame, punishment or people whispering that she has somehow become a dangerous or terrible person.

One of the things that bothers me most about the way women talk about mental health after childbirth is how much fear surrounds asking for help. Mothers are terrified of being judged, terrified of being labelled unfit, terrified that someone will misunderstand what they mean, and terrified that the people around them will look at them differently. This fear can make women hide symptoms until they become impossible to hide, which is why I think the conversation needs to become much more normal before someone reaches a crisis point.

Motherhood is not supposed to erase a woman's humanity. Giving birth does not suddenly make someone immune to depression, anxiety, trauma, obsessive thoughts or serious mental illness. If anything, such a major physical and emotional upheaval can make a vulnerable period even more vulnerable, especially when a woman is expected to carry the invisible work of recovery, childcare and emotional labour while everyone else is focused on the baby.

I wish we could create a culture where asking a new mother how she is doing is not followed by a quick glance at the baby or an expectation that she will say, "I'm tired, but happy." I wish we understood that a woman can be surrounded by people and still feel desperately alone, that she can have a healthy baby and still be unwell, and that gratitude for becoming a mother does not cancel out suffering.

The message women deserve to hear is simple, even if the reality is complicated. You do not have to enjoy every part of motherhood to love your child. You do not have to hide your fear to prove that you are capable. You do not have to suffer in silence because other women appear to be coping better. Needing help after childbirth is not evidence that you have failed at motherhood. It is evidence that you are a human being going through something profound, demanding and life-changing.

If you recognise yourself in any of these experiences, please do not sit alone with it because you feel ashamed or because you keep telling yourself you should be able to handle it. Talk to someone you trust and contact a doctor, midwife or mental health professional. If you or someone close to you is experiencing symptoms of postpartum psychosis, especially hallucinations, delusions, severe confusion or thoughts of harming themselves or the baby, seek emergency medical help immediately.

We need more honesty about motherhood, not because we want to frighten women away from having children, but because women deserve to enter motherhood knowing that their minds deserve just as much care as their bodies. The perfect mother is a myth, and the woman behind that myth deserves compassion, support and the freedom to say when something is not okay.

Thankful for your presence, Neja