Before my children were born, I had a very clear idea of “the mom” I was going to be.
I was going to be calm, cool and collected 24/7. I would take 12 weeks of maternity leave and then smoothly transition back to work. I would be a present mother when home and a present therapist while at work. My life would be busy, of course—but also fulfilling and balanced. And I definitely would not be part of the one in five women who experience a perinatal mood and anxiety disorder (PMAD) like postpartum anxiety or depression.
Boy was I naive.
The truth is anyone can develop a PMAD—even the professionals who are trained to treat them.
When my first child was born, it only took a day for me to realize that I wasn’t feeling like myself. From there, things got progressively worse. I knew I wasn’t okay and that I needed help. But, like a lot of new mothers, I tried to talk myself out of it:
It’ll probably pass.
I don’t have the time for therapy.
I shouldn’t spend the money.
What will people think if they know I’m not happy right now?
When my daughter was about eight months old, I finally broke down. I needed help. I was going through the motions every day: waking up, going to work, taking care of her, —and repeating the same thing day-in and day-out. By all means (and to the outside world) I was functioning. It probably even seemed like I was adjusting very well to motherhood.
But inside I knew this couldn’t be all there was to motherhood. I knew I could feel happier.
So at eight months postpartum I finally worked up the courage to venture online and searched for a therapist in my area. Even though I am a psychologist, I didn’t want to ask any of my colleagues for a recommendation. I felt too embarrassed to admit to anyone that I needed help—especially my colleagues and professional peers. .
I had an idea of the type of therapist I wanted to see. I wanted a female who worked with postpartum women—preferably someone who was also a mother. I wanted someone older than me because I worried that a younger therapist who seemed to have it all together would make me feel worse about myself. And I needed someone who could accommodate my busy schedule.
I couldn’t find anyone who fit my particular criteria, so I made some compromises and scheduled an appointment with someone who could see me after work hours.
The first time I met with my new therapist, I wasn’t so sure it was a great match. I decided to give it at least four sessions before making any decisions.
Unfortunately, during that time, my new therapist said several things that didn’t sit well with me. During one session I shared how I was putting intense pressure on myself to continue exclusively nursing and pumping. My supply wasn’t able to keep up and I was getting to the point that I needed to start supplementing with formula. Even though logically I knew it was irrational, I couldn’t stop feeling like a failure when I thought about supplementing with formula.
I brought this up to my therapist with the hopes that she would help me shift how I was approaching and thinking about my nursing journey. Instead, she pushed me to contact a national breastfeeding organization to get educated on how to increase my supply. While I respected her efforts to help in this way, I felt like she was missing the point. I have always been a type-A person who sets very high standards and feels like a failure when I don’t meet them.
I had extensively researched ways to increase my supply, but at eight months I just could no longer keep up with my daughter’s needs—which actually turns out to be quite common for many women around this timeframe. I knew this was an issue with my thought patterns—not a lack of research.
I’m also a people-pleaser who never wants to hurt anyone’s feelings or—even worse—make them upset with me. At this time I didn’t have a lot of experience advocating for myself, so it took a lot to gently push back. I was surprised when she doubled down. She insisted that I reach out to them and accused me of being difficult.
After that, and a few other uncomfortable moments, I decided she wasn’t the right fit for me. Perhaps she is the right therapist for someone else, I thought, but at this point in my life I needed to see someone who was sensitive to a new mother’s delicate and often fragile needs.
I wish I could say that I began searching for another therapist right away, but the truth is, I started coming up with reasons not to again.
And, as the story goes, about five months later I realized I needed to give therapy another shot. As a psychologist, I knew the value of mental health support and what good therapy could do. I reminded myself not to let one bad experience stop me. After all, sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs to find your prince, right?
I went back to the drawing board and started making phone calls. Again, I did not feel comfortable asking my therapist friends for a recommendation, but I had a better idea of the type of therapist I was looking for this time. Fortunately, the therapist I found the second time around was a great fit. She listened, she respected my opinions, and she didn’t make me feel bad about myself.
During our first session, she was humble, warm, and caring. She listened to my story and validated my feelings. She told me that everything I was feeling was normal and reminded me many women experience this, but also let me know that I deserved to feel better. I walked away from that session with hope for the first time in a long time.
One of the things we focused on was my ‘mom guilt.’ I constantly felt like I was letting other people down. I couldn’t give enough of myself to my daughter, my partner or my work. There wasn’t enough of me to go around. She helped me identify my values and make changes so that the way I was spending my time was in line with them. What helped the most was that she acknowledged how hard it was to feel pulled in a million directions and wanting to please everyone. She didn’t make me feel bad for feeling this way. I knew I wasn’t being judged when I opened up to her.
Gradually I began to feel better. It took time and was certainly a marathon, not a sprint. In today’s world many of us are looking for quick fixes. But when it comes to mental health, this just isn’t realistic. Real progress doesn’t happen overnight.
I stuck with her through the birth of my second child, the COVID pandemic and several tough life events. I actually still see her to this day, although at this point we’ve cut back to monthly sessions.
Even though each person’s journey is unique, I have seen many clients who experienced similar struggles finding the right therapist. Many clients find every reason in the book to put it off—even when they know that it could help. Several have shared what it was like to work with other therapists whom they didn’t connect with and to gather the motivation to keep searching for the right one
If I could share a few key takeaways from my own postpartum therapy journey, they would be:
- Anyone can benefit from seeing a therapist, even other therapists.
- You’re not going to click with everybody, and that’s okay.
- Sometimes it takes work to find the right fit.
- Don’t let a bad experience stop you from getting the help that you need and deserve.
Another important realization I had was how important it is to work with a therapist who understands what you are going through right now, in this chapter of your motherhood journey. Postpartum anxiety and depression are not the same as anxiety and depression that present themselves at other points in a person’s life.
Unfortunately, many communities are lacking mental health providers that are trained to work with new mothers. My own journey inspired me to co-found Phoenix Health, an online therapy practice specifically for parents facing infertility, prenatal and postpartum depression and anxiety, birth trauma, and pregnancy loss. My hope is that other people can get the support they need without facing the same obstacles that I did.
