Newborn Life and Sleep Deprivation

It was 3 am, and the whirring of my breast pump coincided in rhythm with my husband’s snoring. I remember looking past his shoulders and gazing at my 3 week old son snuggled into the crook of my husband’s arm. The soft glow of the TV was the only thing that kept me up. I was averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night between power pumping, nursing, and frequent wake ups from my newborn. My eyes were heavy, and I did not notice that I was even crying until the warm, salty tear reached my lip. I felt like I would never sleep again…I wondered if I had made a mistake by becoming a mom. I was drowning beneath the surface.

In those quiet hours, when it was just me and the overwhelming sense of exhaustion, I often wondered, “Is this what motherhood is supposed to feel like?” I had expected sleep deprivation and long nights, but what I hadn’t anticipated was this deep, persistent ache—this overwhelming sense of sadness, guilt, and isolation.

Pumping, Breastfeeding, Colic and a Severe Tongue Tie

I loved my child deeply, but in the silence of those early mornings, it felt like I was failing. My failed homebirth, turned emergency cesarean, felt like the first attempt of motherhood that I failed with. Navigating a colicky baby with a severe tongue tie, nursing challenges, triple feeding, and endless hours attached to a breast pump, felt like a never ending cycle and reminder of my inadequacy. Failing as a mom, a wife, and even as a person. Every time I tried to express my feelings, I was met with well-meaning advice like, “It gets better,” or “It’s just the baby blues.” But it didn’t feel like that. I felt like I was drowning, and no one could see me struggling beneath the surface.

Feeling Alone

No one tells you that even when you’re surrounded by people who love you—your partner, family, and friends—you can still feel so alone. Even with my professional experience as a birth and postpartum doula, I truly couldn’t grasp the desperation one feels until they’ve gone toe to toe with their expectations as a mom. And that loneliness isn’t just in the lack of physical help or support, but in the unspoken expectation that you’re supposed to be okay. That you will figure it out quickly, and that you’re supposed to find joy in every moment of motherhood.

Postpartum Anxiety and Depression

Postpartum depression, for me, wasn’t just sadness—it was a numbness, a fog that hung over everything. Anxiety creeping in and so much self-doubt I almost felt debilitated. Even the moments that were supposed to be joyful felt muted. I struggled to see any of my life in color and remember very little of those early days with my son. I went through the motions, but there was always a part of me that felt detached, disconnected, and numb, like I was watching myself live my life rather than actually living it. Even to this day I will catch a glimpse of a photo from that time and find myself unrecognizable.

Luckily, since I had some basic training in identifying postpartum anxiety (PPA) and postpartum depression (PPD), I was able to recognize that what I was experiencing went beyond the typical “baby blues.” I knew enough to understand that these feelings of deep sadness, anxiety, and disconnection weren’t something I could just push through on my own. That awareness was a lifeline for me.

Seeking Support

Because of my background, I was able to reach out to the right resources early on. I found solace in speaking to friends who experienced the same feelings, and sought comfort from my family and husband. I learned to lean on support groups, and sought advice from other colleagues and professionals. I knew how important it was to have a plan in place, and I was fortunate enough to access the support I needed. It’s something I am grateful for every day because, without that knowledge, I might have continued to struggle in silence for much longer.  

Eventually, I began to feel like myself again and truly connect with my baby. The fog started to lift, and I could finally retain memories and moments—those little milestones that once felt so distant. I no longer felt like a numb passerby in my own life. Instead, I was present, engaged, and beginning to rediscover the joy that had been overshadowed by the weight of postpartum depression.

Ovecoming PPD: Encouraging Others To Ask For Help

It wasn’t an overnight transformation, and there were still hard days. But with the right support and self-compassion, I slowly rebuilt a version of motherhood that wasn’t defined by perfection but by love, resilience, and forgiveness. If there’s anything I hope others take from my story, it’s that it’s okay to reach out, to say you’re not okay, and to give yourself the time, support, and grace to heal. 

For another story on postpartum mental health, read, “Nursing, Grieving and Healing: My Journey with PWD“.