She looked like every glowing picture of new motherhood. The kind that gets posted with smiling emojis. Her name was Karen, and on the outside, everything seemed perfect but was battling postpartum depression. The baby was healthy. Her husband was supportive. Family and friends were constantly dropping by with food and warm congratulations. But no one could hear the scream behind her smile.
It started a few days after they got home from the hospital. Karen found herself wide awake long after everyone else had gone to bed, scrolling through parenting forums at 2 AM, searching for answers she couldn’t even frame into questions. She’d stare at her newborn for hours, not out of love, but panic. Every little sound made her heart race. When the baby slept too long, she’d nudge her to make sure she was still breathing. When she cried, Karen would break into a sweat, feeling like she was failing with every wail.
She stopped picking up calls. Text messages went unanswered. The house, once filled with visitors and laughter, became quiet. Her body ached in ways she couldn’t explain. She hated the mirror—how tired and foreign she looked. But what she hated even more was how alone she felt.
The worst part? She couldn’t say it out loud. Not to her mum. Not to her friends. Not even to her husband. Everyone expected her to be happy. To be basking in the joy of motherhood. But what she felt was fear. Exhaustion. Guilt. Sometimes even anger.One afternoon, a friend visited and casually said, “You’re so lucky. Motherhood suits you.” Karen smiled, nodded, and laughed. Minutes later, she excused herself to breastfeed and cried in the nursery, muffling her sobs into a muslin cloth. Lucky? She didn’t feel lucky. She felt like she was drowning with a baby in her arms.
One night, she sat on the edge of the bed while the baby screamed for the third hour in a row. Her husband was asleep. She held her daughter close, sobbing into the night and whispering apologies to a child too young to understand. She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for crying, for feeling broken, or for wishing, just for a second, that she could disappear.
Karen was battling postpartum depression, and like so many mothers, she was doing it in silence.
Maternal Mental Health Deserves a Seat at the Table
Postpartum depression doesn’t always look like tears. Sometimes it looks like emotional numbness. Or hyper-vigilance. Or avoidance. Sometimes it wears a smile and answers “I’m fine” while falling apart inside.
After birth anxiety is real too. It’s waking up in panic. It’s checking the baby’s chest every few minutes to make sure they’re breathing. It’s never wanting to leave the house. Or feeling like every little thing is a potential disaster waiting to happen.
The truth is, maternal mental health is often ignored because society paints motherhood as the ultimate gift. And yes, it is a gift—but it’s also a massive shift. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Giving birth is not just a body event; it’s a soul event. It shakes the core of who you are, and sometimes, it leaves behind cracks that need care and attention.
What New Mums Need to Know About Postpartum Depression
You Are Not Alone
Millions of women experience postpartum depression or anxiety. It doesn’t mean you don’t love your baby. It means your mind and body are adjusting in ways you weren’t prepared for.
Speak Up
Tell someone. A friend. A partner. A doctor. There is help out there. Therapy, support groups, and even medication (when needed) can be life-changing. You don’t have to suffer in silence.
You Deserve Rest and Compassion
Forget the pressure to bounce back. Rest. Ask for help. Accept it when it comes. You are healing, not just from childbirth, but from the whirlwind of change it brings.
Watch for Postpartum Depression Red Flags
If sadness lingers. If anxiety becomes crippling. If you feel detached from your baby or yourself. These are signs to pay attention to. Don’t wait until it feels unbearable.
Karen eventually spoke to her doctor during a routine check-up. With gentle encouragement, she began therapy and joined a support group online. Slowly, the fog started to lift. She began to feel herself again. She learned that taking care of herself wasn’t selfish. It was survival. And more importantly, it was love—for her daughter and for herself.Motherhood is not a one-size-fits-all journey. It’s okay for it to look messy. To feel hard. To come with tears as well as laughter. Let’s normalize the truth. Let’s listen to the silent scream.
If you or someone you know is struggling after childbirth, reach out. You are not broken. You are not alone. You are human.
