There is no oneuntouchedbycrisesofmental health.
When I was six weeks pregnant, I went hiking with a friend.
Halfway up the mountain, I paused to catch my breath.
Illustration by Blake Cale
I knew what I needed to say but I found myself struggling to say it.
There was a heavy knot of dread in my stomach.
I have some news, I told her.
My friend was ecstatic.
She started jumping up and down and shrieking with joy.
I forced myself to smile but when she grabbed me for a hug, my face drooped.
It felt like my lips weighed 50 pounds.
I couldnt even really remember how to smile properly.
Because, what was wrong?
I should have been thrilled to be pregnant; I had wanted to have a child for years.
Why did I feel so awful?
Prenatal depressionhit me fast.
One night I went to bed, excited to have a baby.
The next morning, I woke up and I didnt want a child anymore.
A dark cloud of dread hung over me.
It felt like I had just gotten terrible news.
That first week, I canceled plans and spent afternoons curled up on the couch.
Then, I stopped answering emails and checking my phone.
I told myself I was just tired, or just nauseous.
Would it be so bad, I thought, if I just drove into it?
At least I wouldnt have to feel this way anymore.
In that moment, the idea of never waking up again sounded like a relief.
Thats what happened to me; I hid my symptoms and I kept my feelings secret.
I come from a long line of less-than-nurturing mothers.
She would tell me how much she had disliked her own mother, my great-grandmother.
But this was the 90s, before it was understood how unresolved childhood trauma impacts parenting.
Before getting pregnant, I had been sure that I would be the one to finally break this loop.
I spent years in therapy trying to heal.
Learning to reparent myself.
Processing the traumas of my own childhood.
Reading about co-regulation and secure attachment.
Now here I was, not even a mother yet, and already a bad one.
Why had I longed so much to smell a small fuzzy head?
A friend asked me to hold her baby so she could eat and I felt myself shrinking back.
The baby was so heavy.
My arms started to hurt.
I just wanted to hand him back to his mother.
The worse I felt, the more I pretended.
To my midwife, to my therapist, to my friends, to my husband.
Even to my unborn baby, who I would talk to in forced chipper voices: Hi, Baby!
She wasnt a scarf-and-heavy-eyeliner psychic.
She was a cardigan-and-sensible-shoes psychic.
She worked in a boring office with generic art on the walls.
I began to regret the $160 this was going to cost me.
I remember feeling like I didnt want to be pregnant.
I finally had my proof.
I was the unwelcome baby, now unable to welcome my own baby.
People were depressed about babies they had longed for.
Some people werent sure they wanted second children.
When I read that, I started crying with relief.
I had stopped taking birth control years before because Id had such a bad reaction to it.
I wasnt caught in a generational curse.
I wasnt a bad mom.
I was just on a hormonal trip.
According to Dr. Tobon,fluctuationsin estrogen and progesterone during pregnancy play a big factor in mood disturbances.
I started talking to my friends and family and providers about what was going on.
I started texting with women I met on the internet who were going through the same thing.
I still was depressed, sometimes overwhelmingly depressed, but I was not alone.
Within 12 hours of giving birth to my son, I was myself again.
Excited, joyful, full of life.
The depression vanished as quickly as it had come.
When I got pregnant with my second child, the depression came back in full force.
But I was more prepared for it this time, and I spoke openly about what I was experiencing.
And once again, hours after giving birth, the depression lifted and I felt like myself again.
Over the years, Ive triedand succeeded!
Ill give it another spin tomorrow.
Ill just keep trying.
Emma Pattee is the author of the forthcoming novelTilt,out next year.
If you or someone you love is suffering, pleaseseek help.
