Ivana Poku When I became a mum, I made a promise to myself: to do everything I can so no mum ever feels alone.
As part of that promise, I’ve started this blog series – Your Stories – a space where mums can share their journeys, struggles, and truths.
Today, I’m honoured to share Crystal’s story.
Over to her.
Becoming a mother for the first time is often described as one of the most beautiful, transformative experiences of a woman’s life.
And in many ways, it was for me.
Carrying my first daughter brought a new kind of love into my world – a love so fierce, I didn’t know it was possible.
But behind the baby showers, the tiny clothes, and the excitement, something darker was quietly growing – something I wasn’t prepared for: postpartum depression.
I had almost no knowledge of maternal mental health when I gave birth.
There were no open conversations, no leaflets at the doctor’s office, and certainly no one in my circle talking about the emotional crash that can follow bringing life into the world.
What I didn’t know nearly cost me everything.
The Reality of Postpartum Depression
In the months after my daughter’s birth, I slipped into a deep, terrifying depression.
I felt overwhelmed, disconnected, exhausted, and guilty.
I thought something was wrong with me and that I was failing at motherhood.
My daughter was colicky and cried for hours on end, and I felt powerless to comfort her.
I longed to bond with her, to feel the joy everyone promised motherhood would bring – but postpartum depression stole that connection.
I went through the motions, physically present yet emotionally hollow.
On top of the emotional weight, I gained over 100 pounds.
The physical changes added another layer of shame, fuelling the anxiety and sadness that seemed endless.
Even now, more than 25 years later, some of those scars remain.
And here’s the part that made it worse: everywhere I looked, other mothers seemed to be glowing, smiling, and thriving.
Social media and family photos only added to the pressure. I thought I was the only one silently drowning.
The Impact on My Marriage
Through it all, my first husband did his best to support me. He loved me deeply and even suggested counselling – offering to attend with me.
He tried everything to reach me.
But postpartum depression builds walls between you and those who care the most.
Eventually, when our daughter was around 18 months old, the strain became too much.
We were drained, lost, and unsure how to go on.
That dark chapter ended with the breakdown of our marriage.
Looking back, I don’t blame either of us.
We were young, unprepared, and unequipped to face something we didn’t even have the language to name.
What I Wish I Had Known
No one had told us what to look for, how to ask for help, or even that what we were going through wasn’t rare.
It was just rarely spoken about.
That silence is dangerous.
Because here’s the truth every new mum, partner, and family member must hear:
- Postpartum depression is real.
- It is serious.
- And it is not your fault.
The good news?
You are not alone, and help exists.
Postpartum depression affects as many as 1 in 7 new mothers, yet so many of us feel isolated and ashamed.
Awareness has grown in recent years, but too many women still suffer in silence, believing they are broken.
To Every Mum Struggling Right Now
If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re drowning, please know this: seeking help is not weakness.
It is an act of survival. It is a declaration of love – for yourself, for your child, and for your future.
Here are a few steps that can help:
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Talk to your doctor or midwife. They can guide you toward treatment and resources.
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Reach out to a counsellor or therapist. Speaking your truth in a safe space can be life-changing.
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Lean on your support system. Share honestly with a partner, friend, or family member. You don’t have to carry this alone.
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Connect with other mums. Support groups—online or in person—remind you that what you’re feeling is not unusual.
Even small actions, like admitting how you feel out loud, can begin to break the cycle of silence.
My Message of Hope
My story is not one of defeat. It’s one of survival.
And if sharing it helps even one mother feel less alone, more seen, and more empowered to get help, then it’s worth telling.
I wish I had known that motherhood doesn’t always look like the perfect pictures.
I wish I had known that struggling doesn’t make you a bad mother.
And most of all, I wish I had known that asking for help is not weakness, it’s courage.
Motherhood is hard. But you don’t have to do it alone.
—Crystal
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