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It’s Maternal Mental Health


It’s Maternal Mental Health Week, and I am one in five.


Two pregnancies.
Two completely different postpartum experiences.

With my first, I didn’t think I was depressed.
The baby was cared for. The house was clean. Meals were made. I was finishing school. Everything looked “fine.” I loved my baby girl and loved caring for her.

But inside? It got dark.

I felt isolated, like I was drowning.
And what made it worse was the guilt—how could I feel this way when I had this beautiful baby in my arms? How could I say I was struggling when everything on the outside looked perfect?

I was too embarrassed to ask for help.
This was my daughter. How could I say I needed a break—from her?


I was ashamed to admit I felt like I was suffocating.

It wasn’t until my mom—her grandma—showed up and found me on the living room floor, holding my sleeping baby and crying silently, that I finally spoke up.


A family friend—someone I’ll always hold dear—stepped in.


She walked with me, talked with me, reminded me this wasn’t forever. That what I was feeling was real, but it didn’t mean I was broken. She reminded me I wasn’t alone.


But then came the heartbreak of having my vulnerability used against me. People I once trusted twisted my story and blamed every feeling I expressed on my mental health. That betrayal pushed me deeper into darkness.


My first two years of motherhood were largely stolen—not just by postpartum struggles, but by the ignorance and judgment of others.


Then came baby #2.

Three months in, I felt the signs: burnout, isolation, hating what I saw in the mirror. I felt the darkness creeping in. One evening, as my husband walked in the door, I broke down. “I think I’m getting depressed,” I said. “I feel alone. I’m scared. I don’t want our kids or you to see me like that. Help me.”

This time, I was older. My support system was stronger. And I wasn’t afraid to say: I love my kids, but for our family’s happiness—this mom needs a break.


Postpartum mental health isn’t just about depression.
It’s anxiety.
It’s rage.
It’s OCD.
It’s isolation.
It’s intrusive thoughts.
It’s burnout.
It’s depletion.


Don’t just tell a mom to “get help” and move on.
It’s not that simple. Appointments can take months.
Support can feel out of reach. Opening up can feel like exposure—only to be met with silence or shame.

Too many of us are smiling through the darkness, because we’ve been told:
“Motherhood is hard, you’ll be okay.”
“You’re just tired.”
“But look at that baby—how could you feel this way?”


Mama to mama—if you’re in the trenches right now, hear this:
You are not alone.
You are not selfish.
You deserve love.
You deserve support.
You deserve rest.
You shouldn’t have to hit rock bottom to be seen.


I’ll make it safe to share the hard parts.
I’ll stand beside every mom who’s struggling.


Because one in five is far too many to feel invisible. 


  • A Farm Mother’s Try 

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