The Hidden Struggles of Experiencing Suicidal Thoughts During Pregnancy

pregnant woman in pink dress sitting on bed

Content Warning: Suicidal ideation.

“I want to end it all,” I confessed to my doctor when I was six months along. After a routine examination, my obstetrician asked if there was anything else on my mind. Maybe it was a plea for assistance, or perhaps I simply lacked the energy to hold back my feelings. Whatever the reason, I opened up: I didn’t want to continue living.

The details of what happened afterward are a blur, reminiscent of a hazy memory from a high school party. I do recall my doctor decisively heading toward the perinatal psychiatry department, insisting I needed immediate attention. He seemed determined, as if leading a charge, but they couldn’t see me that day—or the next. A month passed before they could fit me in, which felt like an eternity; I struggled to envision a future thirty days away.

We discussed the possibility of inpatient care, but the thought of hospital food while pregnant was disheartening. Food had become a source of comfort after the relentless nausea that plagued my first trimester. I promised my doctor I’d be okay if I could just go home. I suppose I wasn’t entirely dishonest; “okay” is subjective. For someone like me, who was used to living with lingering suicidal thoughts, simply not taking action could qualify as “fine.” After leaving his office, I treated myself to a breakfast sandwich from Tim Horton’s and took an Uber home.

Over the past few years, I’ve become more open about my mental health struggles. I navigate through generalized anxiety disorder, persistent depressive disorder, and complex post-traumatic stress disorder—issues rooted in a challenging background filled with trauma and a lack of therapy. Recently, I realized that none of these conditions were my fault. But that perspective shifted once I became pregnant.

Pregnant women are often seen as vessels, tasked with the responsibility of nurturing a new life. We’re warned against consuming anything potentially harmful, like sushi or certain juices, to protect our unborn children. On top of that, there are constant reminders from family members to tread carefully to avoid falling. Suddenly, caring for my body became a full-time job and admitting to feelings of despair felt like a betrayal to my baby.

Although my child was wanted, the experience of pregnancy brought on feelings I hadn’t anticipated. I was overwhelmed by the threat of miscarriages that sent me to the ER, constant nausea that forced me to step out of meetings to vomit, and complications like my kidney being displaced due to my growing uterus. It was all too much.

My suicidal thoughts didn’t stem from a desire to end my life but from an inability to manage the overwhelming pressures of bringing a new life into the world. The constant stress from the very real possibility of losing my baby, coupled with the toll pregnancy took on my mental health, was suffocating.

Even after I sought help, the journey was fraught with challenges. A psychiatrist prescribed anti-anxiety medication to alleviate my suffering, but the pharmacist refused to fill my prescription. “I’m just not comfortable providing this to a pregnant woman,” he said, leaving me in tears. I didn’t need condescension from someone unfamiliar with the intricacies of pregnancy or mental health.

I also struggled with friends who distanced themselves when I revealed my thoughts of self-harm—thoughts I was actively trying to manage. The implicit judgment made me feel like a villain, as if contemplating suicide was an unforgivable sin, especially for a pregnant woman.

At 39 weeks, I called a suicide hotline, desperate to survive long enough to give birth. When labor began days later and my epidural failed, I was surrounded by people telling me I was doing great. But they had no idea how I felt; I wasn’t succeeding—I was merely surviving. No one in the room understood the powerlessness of that moment when you’re trying to bring one life into the world while battling your own.

When I finally held my daughter, a wave of gratitude washed over me. I was relieved I hadn’t given up on our lives intertwined for those nine months. Yet, even her birth was tinged with shame as I reflected on how close I had come to abandoning her.

In conversations about motherhood, I often joked about morning sickness, but I refrained from mentioning my suicidal ideation. I feared that if I revealed too much, someone might deem me unworthy of being her mother, someone who deserved better. For months after her birth, I was haunted by nightmares of losing her.

As I share this, I fear judgment from you, the reader, for having nearly taken the life of a wanted child. But I write in hopes that someone out there will understand. Perhaps I am not a monster for having contemplated walking into traffic seven months after conceiving. Perhaps I am not a bad person; I simply went through a difficult time.

Being pregnant with my daughter was the best worst experience of my life. I hope someone can relate to that.

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Summary:

This article addresses the often unspoken struggles of experiencing suicidal thoughts during pregnancy. The author shares her personal journey of battling mental health issues while navigating the challenges of pregnancy. Despite the societal expectations of motherhood, she highlights the difficulties faced by pregnant women dealing with mental illness. The narrative emphasizes the importance of seeking help and understanding, while also acknowledging the complexity of emotions that can arise during this transformative time.

Keyphrase: suicidal thoughts during pregnancy

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