It gets better… I promise! Here we go! Take 2!

The cute pregnancy reveal, the video montage and the classic “We’re pregnant!” moment did not happen for me. The late night talks about our babies future and possible names we would choose turned into nights of insomnia and restlessness as I grappled with my mental health. The ante natal classes were swopped for weekends at home sinking myself into the couch and staring at nothing for what seemed like hours. What was scaring me? Was I in fear? Was I feeling like I wasn’t ready? I guess it was a combination of emotions that kept being pushed to the side because I needed to fake that pregnancy glow.

In my previous post I touched the surface on depression and anxiety during pregnancy and shared my experiences with you. My only hope is that you never experienced those feelings and that your experience was different.

I got to a stage where I didn’t really care if I was seen in public without make up or dressing up and anyone that knows me, know that I’m the opposite of plain Jane in public. How I present myself is extremely important to me and suddenly I didn’t care. I would meet old friends and they would say the kindest things to me like “ah you do look tired” which was code for “you look like shit, comb your hair”.

I realised my struggles with my mental health was back when I found it difficult to breathe from the moment I woke up each morning. It didn’t matter how wonderful the day was going, all I felt was doom and gloom – like a human form of the donkey from Winnie the Pooh. I experienced palpitations all times of the day and struggled to concentrate at work and hold general conversations with my family. I was just a shell. A shell housing a baby. A baby that I still felt no emotional connection to.

I didn’t care about anyone or anything. In my normal state, I would have a laundry list of things to worry about like my senior citizen father, my husband and our beautiful fur babies. This time around, when I became anxious and depressed, I felt no feelings for anything even remotely close. I felt no sense of urgency to get my hospital bags packed nor did I feel any level of excitement when it was ultrasound day. I felt like the world’s worst form of female and it didn’t matter who I was confiding in, they just didn’t get it. I don’t blame them. I didn’t get it either.

The feeling of not having any feelings is one of the scariest and inhuman feelings one can have. What makes us human is the ability to feel emotions and I felt completely inhuman and almost ungodly.

Even with prescription medication, the pounding in my chest and the shakiness in my hands refused to go away and I found myself clinging onto each day, telling myself “its just a few more months more until I give birth”. I’m not sure why I thought after giving birth I was going to feel better, perhaps I had hope and just faith that miraculously I would feel better.

The day finally came and I was told I had to go have an emergency c section. Still, I didn’t have any feelings or emotions. Not even an inch of me was worried or afraid. I gave birth, spent a few days in hospital and it was time to go home. A home with no nurses to help me or call out to for help or an extra pillow. That was the anxious part.

“Here you go, here’s your baby! See you in a few days” and we were off to our car. I remember looking back at the hospital thinking “What in the Kardashians am I going to do when she cries? Or when she can’t sleep?”

Low and behold “IT” kicked in. That maternal instinct thing that you think is an old wives tale like holding your hair when a hearse goes by, it finally kicked in and I went from not knowing a thing to not knowing a thing but with confidence that I can figure it out. A few weeks before giving birth I was done with self pity and loathing in misery. Just because I received a diagnosis doesn’t mean that it’s going to be an excuse to have a grey cloud over my head every single day. Sure, you are allowed to have bad days but never allow yourself to believe that you have a bad life. I was so over the depressed nights that turned into mornings and the anxious mornings that snowballed into evenings. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I decided in that moment to acknowledge my weakness and not ignore it because that’s the worst thing you can possibly do. Never pretend it’s not there. Acknowledge it’s presence and avoid any ability of it to take control of your life.

When we brought little Soori home, I was overwhelmed but things started to click and make sense and if something didn’t, I did what every responsible adult does – I went on tiktok for assistance. Don’t judge me, the app helps ok! Mentally I started to feel better after medication reviews and my own will to not let this shitty feeling run my life. I don’t like running. I’m not a fan of the attire it requires. I know many women go through different emotions but nobody can disagree that when you bring your little creation home for the first time, your levels of anxiety hit the roof. Considering we did not have much help besides my 71 year old dad (whom is also Soori’s best friend), my husband and I figured out everything as we went along. I’m proud of that.

From June 2024 to Feb 2025, I spent every single day with high functioning anxiety and extreme depression. It was the most difficult stage of my life that I never want to experience again however I figured it’s also up to me to do the work to fix myself. My psychiatrist asked me “What makes you happy?” and no not people or food or alcohol, more along the lines of what in life makes you happy. As I tried to stop tears rolling down my face I said I don’t know. I had no idea what made me happy at the time. I thought of the question again several weeks later and I realised writing makes me happy, spirituality makes me happy, art makes me happy and learning to sew is on my bucket list.

I could finally think of myself as a person and not as a patient or as a mother. I had the identity of my own that needed attention in order to be there for everyone else. Things were looking up. My baby teaches me every day that it’s ok if something is not done by a particular time. She has taught me how to prioritise and how to slow down. Boy oh boy, did I need to slow down.

Sometimes people that are anxious or have OCD need deviation even though we hate it, when you have a baby, you have to forget silly habits that annoy everyone around you such as sticking to a time for everything and living life based on a schedule. The light at the end of the tunnel appears bright on some days and slightly dim on other days. The important thing to remember dim or bright – light is light .

To my fellow anxious and depressed, bipolar and BPD, it does get better as weeks go by. And taking medication that the OBYGYN and psychiatrists recommend is not shameful or means that you are weak.

Asking for help is one of the most powerful things you could ever do. Always remember that. I hope this post can help you or maybe you can share this with a friend that needs some reassurance. Coming from someone that’s been through the darkest tunnel, it does get better and I am forever grateful to my team of healthcare professionals because if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here to tell my story…

Let me know your thoughts. Till next time!