It’s a little after two in the morning, and I’m wide awake in our upstairs bathroom. My heart and my thoughts are racing, and I’m convinced I might be dying. I’ve made a mistake, and this is my punishment for thinking I was cut out to be a mom. My husband and our eight week old son are fast asleep downstairs. I look down and brace my hands against my thighs, try to focus on the pattern printed on my pajamas. I convince myself to take a breath. And another and another… until I can feel my heartbeat finally slow. I’m not dying, but I won’t be sleeping tonight — despite the exhaustion I can feel to the very marrow of my bones. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through another day.
I’m not sure I want to — not if this is how every day is going to feel.
This was my rock bottom.
Thankfully, I got help. Over the next several months, I would slowly come back to the surface of my life. I would feel joy roost where anxiety had once nested. My son and I got to know each other and I would recognize my truth: Struggling with postpartum anxiety hadn’t made me any less of a mom, instead, it showed me just how deep the strength of a mother runs. How we can still show up even on the hardest days of our lives.
If you’re currently in the trenches of your own postpartum experience right now, I promise you: You will make it to the other side. And if you’re struggling, asking for help isn’t weakness — it’s the best and strongest decision you can make for yourself and your child.
I’ve chosen to share my story in the hope that it can help other moms feel less alone. This is the article — and the resources — I wish I would have come across when I was deep in my own trenches of anxiety. The more we share, the more we can understand our experiences and break down the unfortunate stigma that still lingers around the postpartum period and mental health — and advocate for better care.
Perinatal Mood Disorders Are a Medical Condition
Before I get further into my story, I want to call attention to something that I wish I had understood more deeply before experiencing postpartum anxiety (PPA) — because understanding what was actually happening to me was one of the first steps toward getting better.
What Are PMADs?
Perinatal mood and anxiety disorders, more commonly known as PMADs, are medical conditions, not moral failings. They are not a sign that you made a mistake, or that you aren’t cut out for this. They are not your fault. And best of all — they can be treated, and you will get better.
Postpartum anxiety is one of several conditions that fall under the umbrella of PMADs which also include postpartum depression, postpartum OCD, postpartum rage, postpartum PTSD, and postpartum psychosis. These mood disorders can develop during pregnancy or in the months following childbirth — and they are far more common than most people realize. Research suggests that as many as one in five mothers experience a PMAD, yet they remain widely under diagnosed and under treated, largely because there is a lack of adequate screening, and because so many of us suffer in silence, fearing that we’ll be labeled as “bad mothers.” Each PMAD is distinct in how it presents, but they all share something important in common: none of them are a reflection of your character, your love for your child, or your ability to be a good mother.
What Actually Causes PMADS?
The honest answer is that it’s rarely just one thing. PMADs are often the result of a “perfect storm” of overlapping factors — changes in biology and physiology, sleep deprivation, and the profound identity shift that comes with the transition from pregnancy to parenthood, including the gap between expectations and the reality of life with a newborn.
On a hormonal level, the rapid drop in estrogen and progesterone that occurs after delivery, combined with the stress and sleep deprivation that accompany caring for a newborn, can significantly increase the risk of mood and anxiety disorders in the postpartum period. Sleep — or the loss of it — plays a particularly significant role. Research has found that postpartum insomnia and poor sleep quality are reliable predictors of postpartum depression and anxiety symptoms, with chronic sleep deprivation considered a uniquely relevant risk factor for postpartum mood disorders. Stressful life events and past traumatic experiences (including miscarriage) can all contribute to postpartum anxiety — which helps explain why no two experiences look exactly the same.
For me, it was postpartum anxiety that took hold — and that’s the lens I’m looking through as I relay my experience.
The Red Flags I Ignored (Until I Couldn’t)
Looking back now, the signs were there long before the night I hit rock bottom. I just didn’t recognize them for what they were — or truthfully, I didn’t want to.
Not Sleeping — Even When the Baby Was
In those early weeks, I told myself I wasn’t sleeping because that’s what new parenthood looks like. I told myself the racing thoughts were just my mind adjusting to the weight of a new responsibility. I told myself the tightness in my chest, the low hum of dread that followed me around the house, the way my heart rate would spike at the smallest thing — all of it was normal. All of it was just part of the package. Every new mom probably feels this way. I just need to power through it. I must have told myself that a hundred times.
Intrusive Thoughts
But then there were the intrusive thoughts. My imagination ran wild with all of the terrible things that could happen to my newborn child. Some more rational…others completely irrational. Yes, of course I needed to be careful going up and down the stairs — but why on earth did my brain insist on replaying images of me falling down the stairs, or worse yet, throwing my baby down them when I would never do such a thing? It was incredibly distressing.
Nighttime Dread That Didn’t Fade
What I remember most vividly, though, is the dread that would settle over me every evening as the sun went down. Something about the approaching night made my anxiety spike in a way I couldn’t fully explain. Even on the days I’d managed to convince myself our son was safe — that I was watching him closely enough, that everything was okay — the night still loomed. Because even if he was fine, I had no control over what the hours ahead would look like. When would he wake up? How many times? The uncertainty of it felt unbearable in a way I couldn’t describe at the time. Night brought darkness —both literally and figuratively — and with it came the anticipatory dread.
Symptoms that Lasted Beyond the “Baby Blues”
I told myself it was the baby blues. I’d read about them — the hormonal dip in the first week or two after birth, the weepiness, the emotional turbulence. I held onto that explanation for longer than I should have, because it gave what I was feeling a tidy, temporary label. This is normal. This will pass. Except it didn’t pass. More weeks ticked by and instead of lifting, things seemed to be getting worse. The dread didn’t soften with familiarity. The thoughts didn’t quiet as we settled into more of a routine. If anything, the anxiety was finding new corners of my mind to occupy — and I was still barely sleeping, even when my baby was.
Still, I minimized it. I compared myself to other moms and decided I didn’t have it bad enough to need help. We had gone through a miscarriage before this and now the healthy baby we had so hoped for was here. I should feel grateful. My husband was incredibly helpful. Our son was a mercifully good sleeper. I reasoned that if I could still get up, still function, still take care of my son — I was fine.
But I was far from it.
Finally Admitting I Needed Help
The night I described at the beginning of this article — trying to breathe my way back from what felt like a dangerous edge — that was the moment I could no longer explain it away. There was no reframing that. There was no every new mom feels this way that could stretch far enough to cover what I was experiencing. Something was wrong, and I finally let myself say it out loud.
Asking for help still didn’t come easily. Even after that night, there was a voice that whispered I was being dramatic. That I should be able to handle this. That admitting I was struggling meant admitting I was failing — as a mother, as a person. That voice was persistent and it was wrong, but it took a lot of effort to stop listening to it.
If any of this sounds familiar, I want you to hear this clearly: minimizing your own suffering is not strength. It’s one of the sneaky ways anxiety keeps you stuck. You do not have to hit rock bottom before your experience becomes valid. If what you’re feeling is causing you any type of distress — it’s enough of a reason to reach out for help.
What I’d Go Back and Tell Myself If I Could
If I could sit down with the version of me that was white-knuckling her way through those early weeks and months, here’s what I would say. I offer this advice not as a prescription — every postpartum experience is different, and what I needed may not be exactly what you need — but as the honest reflections I wish someone had handed me when I felt like I was drowning.
Ask for help as soon as possible — you don’t need to suffer.
This one sits at the top of the list because I believe it with everything I have. I tried to convince myself that things would even out on their own, that I just needed more time, more sleep, more grace. And while all of those things were technically true, they weren’t enough on their own. The moment I finally reached out and said I’m not okay out loud to someone who could actually help — in this case, my OB — that was the moment things began to shift. If you are reading this and you’re in the thick of it right now, please don’t wait. Asking for help isn’t a last resort. It’s the first step to feeling better.
Stay off the internet. Especially Reddit.
I say this with full awareness that you may have found this very article through a Google search at some unholy hour of the morning — and I’m glad you’re here. But there is a difference between finding a resource that offers grounded, reliable information and falling down a rabbit hole of forum threads where one person’s worst-case scenario becomes the thing you’re convinced is your inevitable outcome. I did a lot of the latter. I’d go looking for reassurance and come out the other side more convinced than ever that something was deeply, permanently wrong. The internet can be a tool or a trap, and when anxiety is driving, it almost always leads you straight to the trap. Close the tab. Reach out to a friend or a loved one instead — bonus if they’re a mom and can relate!
Trust your intuition.
Anxiety has a way of making you doubt yourself at the exact moment you need to trust yourself most. Looking back, I knew something was wrong earlier than I admitted it. I knew the baby blues explanation wasn’t quite fitting. I knew the dread I felt each evening wasn’t just tiredness. I kept overriding that knowing with what I thought was logic and rationalization — and I wish I hadn’t. You are not being dramatic. You are not overreacting. If something feels off, it probably is, and that instinct is worth listening to. Your intuition is not the enemy. Your anxiety is.
Get outside. Even just for ten minutes.
This sounds almost embarrassingly simple, and I know that on the hardest days, getting out of the house can feel genuinely impossible. But the days I managed to step outside — even just to stand on the porch and feel the air on my face, even a slow walk around the block (first with a carrier thanks to a hard CNY winter and then with the stroller as temperatures began to rise) — those days felt marginally more manageable. I felt a little more like myself. There is something about being indoors, within the same four walls where all of your anxiety lives, that makes everything feel more suffocating than it actually is. The world outside is still turning. You are still a part of it. Sometimes all it takes is a few minutes of fresh air to remember that.
Let the time be unstructured. It’s allowed to be.
I spent the first few months in a low-grade panic over the formlessness of it all. There was no clear start or end to the day, no real sense of accomplishment I could point to, nothing that looked the way I expected it to look. I kept trying to impose structure on a season of life that resists it almost by design. What I know now — and what I wish I could have whispered to my exhausted, anxious self — is that the unstructured, unmoored, time-bending blur of early parenthood is not a sign that you’re doing it wrong. It’s just what this season looks like. And it is only a season. The days are long, yes, but as the saying goes — the years are incredibly short. As impossible as it is to believe when you’re in the middle of it, this chapter does eventually give way to the next one. You are not going to feel this way forever. You will be able to get off the couch again. And you will refind your footing.
What Helped Me Get Through My Postpartum Anxiety
Recovery from postpartum anxiety didn’t happen in a single moment. It happened slowly, in layers — one small decision at a time. I want to share what helped me, not because I think your path will look exactly like mine, but because I remember how desperately I wanted to hear that there were real, concrete things that could make a difference. There were. There are.
Telling my doctor.
This was the first step, and the key that unlocked all the doors of support to follow. I told my OB what I had been experiencing, and something about saying it out loud in that room — to someone who could actually do something about it — felt like setting down a weight I hadn’t fully realized I’d been carrying. She didn’t dismiss me. She didn’t tell me every new mom feels this way. She listened, and then she helped me figure out what to do next.
If there is one thing I hope you take from this article, it’s this: start there. You don’t have to have it all figured out before you make the appointment. You don’t need to know exactly what to say. You just have to show up and be honest.
Finding the right support — one referral at a time.
My doctor connected me with an online postpartum support group through Crouse Hospital, and that referral changed everything. Through that group, I was able to meet with a mental health nurse practitioner and, eventually, find a fantastic therapist who specializes in working with postpartum women. For me, finding the right anxiety medication combined with talk therapy and having a support group to turn to made it possible for my nervous system to finally exhale. I could think more clearly. I could be more present. I could begin to find my footing again.
I want to be clear: medication is not the right choice for everyone, and neither is any one specific type of therapy or support. But for me, having a team of people who understood what postpartum anxiety actually looked like — and who could help me treat it as the medical condition it was — made an enormous difference. You deserve that kind of care too.
Reaching out to other moms.
This one surprised me a little, because I am not always the first person to reach out, and am typically pretty introverted. But I did reach out — to past coworkers, close friends, women in my life who had been through their own versions of early motherhood — and what I found on the other side of those conversations was grace. A Zoom call that provided me with a mantra I still use to this day, and serves as a reminder to listen to my intuition: “If it’s working for you, it’s working.” A quick text that arrived on a hard afternoon at exactly the right moment. It was a reminder that I was not the first person to feel this way, and that the women around me were more than willing to show up.
There is also something healing about being known by people who knew you before — before the anxiety, before the sleepless nights, before you forgot for a while what it felt like to feel like yourself.
Reclaiming small joys.
As the weeks passed and the fog began to lift — slowly, then noticeably — I started to find my way back to the small things that had always brought me comfort. Reading again, since I had far more time on my hands and nowhere to go with a sleeping baby on my lap. Stepping outside as the weather turned, and feeling more like myself on every walk. On the days I felt like it, spending a little extra time putting on some makeup, or finally breaking out of my sweats and putting together an outfit I would have worn “before.” Choosing, deliberately, to stay off the internet. These weren’t necessarily dramatic changes. They felt like tiny reclamations — small proof that the person I had been before was still in there somewhere, making her way back.
I didn’t feel joy all at once. But it came back — gradually, and then more than I expected. And with the joy came the knowledge that I was — and am — so much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. I have my son to thank for that. My life’s greatest teacher arrived in the tiniest, most unassuming (but adorable) package. And the lessons haven’t stopped. My journey into motherhood may not have started as I’d hoped, but I wouldn’t trade this ride for anything.
Resources: You Don’t Have to Figure This Out Alone
Local (CNY) Resources
Crouse Health Perinatal Family Support Program
This is the program that changed things for me, and I can’t recommend it enough. Crouse Health’s free Perinatal Family Support Program offers peer support to moms and families living with perinatal anxiety and depression. The group is open to any parent with a new baby — whether it’s your first or your fifth — and moms, significant others, and babies are all welcome, regardless of where your baby was delivered. Group and private sessions are virtual, allowing you to receive services from the comfort of your home. The program is led by Nurse Practitioner Christine Kowaleski, who is certified in family, neonatal, and psychiatric care and serves as the Regional Coordinator for Postpartum Support International. To register or learn more, you can call 315-470-7940 or visit the website.
National Resources
Postpartum Support International (PSI)
PSI is one of the most comprehensive and trusted national organizations for perinatal mental health support. Their HelpLine connects you with support and local resources, their online directory helps you find qualified perinatal mental health professionals, and they offer free weekly calls with PSI experts where you can ask questions about symptoms, resources, and treatment options — no pre-registration or name required. They also offer a free app, Connect by PSI, available in English and Spanish. 📞 1-800-944-4773 (call or text) | postpartum.net
National Maternal Mental Health Hotline
The National Maternal Mental Health Hotline provides free, confidential, 24/7 mental health support for moms and their families before, during, and after pregnancy. Pregnant women, new moms, and new parents can call or text any time, every day, and will be connected with a professional counselor — with support available in English, Spanish, and over 60 additional languages. 📞 1-833-TLC-MAMA (1-833-852-6262) | call or text, 24/7
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline
If you are ever in crisis or having thoughts of harming yourself or your child, please reach out immediately. The 988 Lifeline provides free, confidential support around the clock — and it’s not just for suicidal crises. It’s for anyone in emotional distress who needs someone to talk to right now. 📞 Call or text 988, available 24/7
A free, confidential resource for mental health information and referrals to local treatment and recovery services. 📞 1-800-662-4357 | available 24/7 | samhsa.gov
Books That Helped Me
Reading was one of the small joys I reclaimed during my recovery — and these two books met me exactly where I was.
Good Moms Have Scary Thoughts by Karen Kleiman & illustrated by Molly McIntyre
This was one of the first books I reached for. Written by Karen Kleiman, founder of the Postpartum Stress Center and a maternal mental health expert with over 35 years of experience, the book is packed with guidance, simple exercises, and illustrated cartoons from the viral #speakthesecret campaign. What I loved most about it is that it doesn’t talk down to you or offer empty reassurances. It names the hard things — the intrusive thoughts, the shame, the fear of saying any of it out loud — and meets them with honesty and compassion. This is the kind of book you can read in small pieces and still come away feeling less alone.
If Good Moms Have Scary Thoughts helped me feel seen in the midst of my anxiety, Matrescence helped me understand what had happened to me — and why. Drawing on research across neuroscience, evolutionary biology, psychoanalysis, sociology, and ecology, Jones makes the case that the changes in the maternal mind, brain, and body during pregnancy and early motherhood are far more profound and enduring. Reading it felt like finally being given language for something I had lived through but couldn’t quite name. It’s also a refreshing take that it’s ok to feel the full complexity of what becoming a mother actually is (the good, the bad, and the ugly) rather than the sugar-coated version we’re often told.
It Gets Better
If you’ve made it to the end of this article, I want you to know: whether you stumbled across it in the middle of the night, or saved it for a quiet moment you carved out between the seemingly endless blur of feedings, diaper changes, and nap times — I’m glad you’re here. And I hope you feel a little less alone in finding these words.
That’s what I needed most when I was in it — the knowledge that someone else had hit their own 2 AM rock bottom moment, and had made it to the other side. That I wasn’t alone — or crazy. And I’m here to tell you that you’re not either of those things.
Help is available. And this season — as long and dark as it can feel — will pass.
I promise.
In search of more resources? Check out our other helpful articles below:
- 8 Strategies for Coping with Wakeful Babies
- A Mom Reflects on Her Experience With Perinatal Mood Disorders
- How to Develop “Momfidence”
