What's next after childbirth? 🤐 UNFILTERED 🤐

Hi zesties!

Many would think it's gonna be all loving and exciting.

Becoming a new parent is often romanticized as an exciting and joyful journey—and while it certainly can be, the reality that follows is not always a bed of roses.

At first, there’s excitement. Who wouldn’t feel a rush of joy when meeting their newborn? Everyone is in awe of the little one, and the parents are running on pure adrenaline. I was eager to test out all my new purchases and apply my research. I imagine all new mothers feel the same excitement at first.

But soon after, loneliness creeps in.

It tends to hit during the late-night feeds and pumping sessions (shoutout to all the pumping mamas 💪). Those are the loneliest moments. You start to wonder why no one else is there to help. I resented that my husband wasn’t more hands-on. He couldn’t hear the baby’s cries at night and wouldn’t wake up to feed, claiming he was too tired from work. I was furious. After all, I gave birth to a baby who looked just like him and took his last name, yet I was left as the primary caregiver.

During this time, it feels like no one truly understands. You want to give your baby the best, but you also feel like you're losing yourself. It’s a constant internal battle. Even with a support system—friends and family checking in—I couldn’t shake the loneliness.

Then, the anxiety sets in.

Before giving birth, I was pretty laid back, not a clean freak by any means. But after my baby was born, everything triggered my anxiety. I made sure my helper washed her hands before carrying the baby and took a shower after cleaning the house. If someone smoked, they were not allowed near the baby. Going out became an ordeal—hand sanitizers and wipes were my constant companions.

I was paranoid about people coughing in public, cursing them in my head for not covering their mouths. It sounds dramatic, but for two months, I lived in constant fear of my baby coming into contact with germs.

The anxiety didn’t stop there. I became obsessed with overpacking for even short trips. For a 2-3 hour visit to the paediatrician, I packed 6-8 diapers and three extra onesies. My diaper bag was always a heavy 5kg. I also dreaded my baby crying in public. It felt like every eye was on me, judging, and I would panic. Once, I had my husband take her to the nursing room because I couldn’t handle the pressure of those stares. Her cries seemed louder to me than they actually were—a “mummy thing,” where your brain amplifies the sound to alert you.

This anxiety, combined with sleep deprivation, led to what felt like mild postpartum depression. Some days, I just wanted to stay in bed, ignore everything, and take a break. But through all the ups and downs, I am immensely grateful for one person: my mom.

She came over to help with the night feeds and took care of my baby so I could get some rest. I can’t express how much that meant to me. It was the best form of support, helping me recover mentally. When she was around, I would time my pumping sessions to avoid the middle of the night and sleep peacefully, knowing my mom had everything under control.

Truly, there’s nothing like a mother’s support.

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