After grappling with major depressive disorder for nearly a decade, my mind and body reached a breaking point. At just 23 years old, I found myself utterly exhausted—exhausted from putting on a facade. I felt emotionally drained, lost, and completely numb. Suddenly, the simplest daily tasks felt like insurmountable challenges. Brushing my teeth became a monumental feat. I had no desire to be awake; in fact, I preferred a state of perpetual sleep. I eventually left my job in pursuit of a full-time slumber, which led me to sleep through three years of my life.
During this hibernation phase, I was living in California, far away from my family and friends in New York. This distance provided a convenient cover for my struggles. I maintained an active presence on social media to deflect any inquiries about my well-being, responding to messages only when I had the strength. On the surface, it seemed like everything was fine.
Yet, my husband, Jake, witnessed my downward spiral. He had been with me through the ups and downs of my depression, but this time it was different. I became a mere shadow of my former self, and he found himself living with a ghost—someone who no longer connected with him. In an attempt to revive my spirit, we moved back to New York to be closer to family, but I was still unwilling to engage. I sank deeper into my depression, lying on the floor of despair until I became utterly unresponsive.
I spent most of those years sleeping on the couch, waking only to eat. Basic self-care fell by the wayside—I neglected my hygiene and suffered frequent UTIs because I couldn’t muster the energy to get to the bathroom. I gained 70 pounds during this time.
By April 2016, my relationship was hanging by a thread. I was not the partner I vowed to be, and Jake was growing weary of my inaction against my depression. We were drifting apart, and I was still trapped in my slumber.
Then, on April 4, 2016, everything changed. I woke up feeling nauseous and joked to Jake about possibly being pregnant. After throwing up multiple times that day and taking five pregnancy tests, reality hit: I was indeed pregnant, and we were far from ready, both financially and emotionally.
We argued, expressing our fears about my capability to be a mother in my current condition. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a child. But despite our doubts, we decided to move forward.
My pregnancy was fraught with illness, and our medical bills forced us back into our parents’ houses. I worked tirelessly to remain positive, while Jake focused on saving money for our growing expenses. This was exhausting for both of us, but everything changed at my 16-week appointment.
I had chosen to be surprised by the sex of our baby, hoping it would give me something to look forward to. On that day, while wheeled down for a full anatomy scan, I longed for a connection with the life growing inside me. “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” the doctor asked. I looked at Jake, desperate for hope. “It’s a girl,” the doctor announced. Tears filled my eyes as I whispered, “It’s Mia.” From that moment, I embraced my identity as a mother—depressed but a mother nonetheless.
Suddenly, I could no longer consider suicide as an escape, knowing there would soon be someone who needed me more than I ever needed myself. It was a terrifying realization, but it also became my catalyst for change.
In the weeks leading up to Mia’s birth, I knew I had to make a significant change; my survival depended on it. I forced myself to stay awake, even when it felt uncomfortable. It was a jarring experience to remain alert for several hours at a time, and I often found myself longing for the comfort of sleep. Yet, I forced myself to eat, brush my teeth, and shower, preparing for the responsibilities of motherhood. I stumbled at times, missing meals and losing weight, but I was trying—something I hadn’t done in years.
Mia’s arrival was a whirlwind. She was healthy and gazed at me with a familiarity that felt deeply comforting. For the first time in years, I experienced genuine happiness and pride in myself. I was proud of my body for bringing her into the world, and I appreciated myself in a way I never had before.
Motherhood pushed me out of my slumber; now, I awaken each day not just to survive, but because I want to. Although I still face struggles like severe postpartum anxiety and PTSD from my pregnancy, I am awake to face them. At least now, I have the support of Jake and my medical team, and I can actively engage in my daughter’s life.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination here. Also, for those exploring their options, you can find more information about at-home insemination kits here or here.
In summary, motherhood became the impetus for confronting my debilitating depression, awakening me from years of emotional hibernation, and allowing me to embrace life once again.
Keyphrase: motherhood and depression
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