When Motherhood Hurts: The Truth About Postpartum Depression

Postpartum depression isn’t just a “phase” or “baby blues.” It’s a serious mental health condition that affects 1 in 7 mothers, yet is rarely spoken about in Indian households.

The signs may include:

Overwhelming sadness or anxiety
Disinterest in the baby
Guilt, shame, or hopelessness
Appetite or sleep disturbances
Difficulty bonding with the baby
Thoughts of self-harm or harm to the child (in extreme cases)

Unlike baby blues, which typically fade within two weeks of childbirth, PPD can last for months if untreated—and sometimes longer.

This sentence should be banned. Because postpartum depression doesn’t ask whether your baby is healthy or if you prayed for this moment. It creeps in silently.

Motherhood is painted in pastel pinks and filtered lullabies, but the reality is messier. It’s leaking breasts, stitches that sting, hormonal tsunamis, and being expected to love every second of it.

Sometimes, you don’t feel like a mother. You feel like a machine that forgot how to feel.

Neha, 28:
“I remember standing at the kitchen sink, crying while sterilizing bottles. Not because I was overwhelmed by chores—but because I didn’t feel anything when my son smiled. I hated myself for it.”

Sangeeta, 34:
“My family thought I was being dramatic. They told me to pray more, to be grateful. I felt unseen. I wanted someone to say, ‘It’s okay to not be okay.’”

In many Indian homes, emotions post-childbirth are policed more than supported. The moment you show vulnerability, someone pulls out the moral guilt lathi:

“Maa banna asaan nahi hota.”

“Humne toh 3 bacche paale bina kuch kahe.”

“Zyada sochti hai, isliye aise lagta hai.”

This kind of silencing adds shame to an already isolating experience. It pushes women to hide, smile falsely, and soldier on—at the cost of their mental health.

During and after pregnancy, your body becomes a battleground of hormones. Estrogen and progesterone levels, which shoot up during pregnancy, crash after delivery. This sudden drop affects serotonin—the “feel good” chemical—leading to sadness, irritability, and anxiety.

On top of this:

Sleep deprivation
Physical exhaustion
Constant caregiving
Loss of self-identity

You feel bad because you’re not bonding with your baby → You feel like a terrible mom → You isolate → Your symptoms worsen → You feel even more guilty.

It’s a vicious loop.

The truth? Not feeling attached in the beginning doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. It means your brain needs healing just as much as your C-section scar does.

You cry every day and can’t explain why.
You feel numb toward your baby.
You dread being alone with your child.
You fantasize about running away—or worse.
You feel unworthy of motherhood.

If this is you, please know: You are not alone. You are not weak. And you are not broken.

You don’t have to hit rock bottom to seek help. Treatment options include:

Talk therapy (with a licensed therapist or psychiatrist)

Support groups (online and offline)

Medication (safe even during breastfeeding in most cases)

Family education (to help your partner/family understand your mental health)

In India, organizations like Mamma Mia, Sangath, and Postpartum Support International India Chapter provide resources for new mothers.

Postpartum depression isn’t exclusive to women. Many fathers also experience feelings of helplessness, anxiety, or detachment after childbirth. They too need emotional space to adjust.

Let’s normalize both parents feeling overwhelmed.

You won’t suddenly “snap out of it.” Healing is nonlinear.

Some days you’ll feel like yourself again, laughing at silly baby sounds. Other days, you’ll cry without reason. That’s okay.

What matters is: You’re not pretending anymore. You’re not suffering in silence.

Don’t say, “But you prayed for this baby!”
Do say, “How are you feeling? Really.”
Don’t offer spiritual bypassing.
Do offer to watch the baby while they nap.
Don’t suggest silence.
Do suggest therapy. Offer to help find one.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna never tells Arjuna to shut up and fight. He listens, understands his mental state, and offers wisdom—not judgment.

That’s the kind of support postpartum mothers need.

To be heard, not hushed.

To be held, not hurried.

You are not alone.
You are not a bad mother.
You are still deserving of love, joy, and softness.

You will come back to yourself. Maybe not today, but eventually.

And when you do, you’ll realize: the most heroic thing you did wasn’t birthing a child.

It was choosing to live through the storm, for yourself.

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