Content Warning: This story includes suicide references.

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My own childhood was quite negatively marked by stress, poverty, and a lot of really awful serious fighting. For a long time, I was too scared to have my own children in case family life turned out to be like that. Eventually, age and distance and love made me suddenly desperate for children.

When my wife birthed our son in 2015 I was so elated. I caught him myself, and even though I was a student midwife at the time I still felt terrified and unsure just like any nervous partner. I can still remember how amazing it felt and how strong the love was when I got to cuddle him skin to skin that first time.

I was busting for it to be ‘my turn’ to carry, and after a few rough unsuccessful IVF rounds, I was so excited to be pregnant. I had an incredible homebirth, which mattered a lot to me, and again felt that elation and love that I hoped for. There were some struggles for me, having had a previous history of sexual abuse and a serious suicide attempt as an 18 year old, I was worried about how my mental health would be.

My anxiety crept up so slowly, and wasn't the depression that I perhaps expected so it took me a long time to realise it was affecting me. Although I had a partner who'd been through birth, it was hard to feel genuinely seen for how things were for me. Especially as my first experience of birthing, breastfeeding and the postnatal hormones all occurred while I had a toddler to care for too.

Sometimes I felt like all the excitement for the first baby had been ‘spent’ already with my son’s pregnancy and birth, and there was not enough space for how things felt for me or attention on our next child. I eventually sought therapy for my anxiety, and I think just feeling seen and validated was actually what I needed.

When I birthed our third child, my second experience of pregnancy and birth, it was the early days of COVID. I was working as a midwife while pregnant, with huge fear and uncertainty about what this virus would do and how dangerous it was. This was on the back of the black summer of bushfires that made the air smog dangerous. I felt so scared about the risk and dangers for my unborn child and my two kids - but it was hard to tell what was normal anxiety or becoming pathological.

My previous experience as a teenager, when I was scheduled after my suicide attempt, made me very distrustful of mental health services and even of hospitals to a degree. Not that I ever felt like my mental health was truly that bad, but it did make me less willing to even admit to my anxiety to any professionals.

I had another beautiful homebirth, that did truly make me feel like a super woman, I then had to navigate the isolation and stress of covid lockdowns. I had long days at home with the three kids, home schooling my son who was in kindy, managing a newborn that was awake for 4-5 hours per night and had the most shocking bowel issues. My relationship was deteriorating and the sense of not feeling seen or safe had a further impact on me that at times felt really heavy. I used the strategies from previous therapy to help, and writing, friends and exercise slowly helped me feel confident and strong again.

I have recently reflected that pregnancy, birth and mothering has actually been a source of resilience, strength and genuine pride for me. I feel like my worries of postnatal depression or issues from my past coming back to haunt me did not eventuate as I feared. I believe it is important to talk about our mental and emotional health and feel validated for our experience. 

Now, my kids are 4, 7, and 10 – we have so much fun together and I am so proud when I see them use emotionally insightful language about feeling nervous or angry or excited about things. It makes me feel hopeful that for them, they will not grow up with the same shame and stigma around mental health that was part of my upbringing.