Hi, my name is Cassie. I was recently diagnosed with four mental health conditions related to the birth of my first child. I’m now in recovery, and I’m proud of the journey I’ve been on and everything I’ve overcome to get to this point. My life is far from perfect, and it took a long time to get here. Here’s a little about how we arrived at this point.
My wife, Kenzie, and I met online, like so many people in the 21st century. Our relationship started almost entirely virtually for the first six months. Neither of us was really into dating apps; we met on Tumblr. Things moved quickly. Within a week, we were talking all day, every day. I worked full-time, so there was an eight-hour window where we weren’t in touch, but otherwise, we were inseparable. We had FaceTime calls that lasted 15 hours, often falling asleep while still connected. We even wrote letters to each other, something I still treasure.
There was just one problem, I was in Kentucky, and Kenzie was in Oregon. After about six months, I made the biggest move of my life: I packed up everything I could fit in my car, including my dog, and drove across the country. Kenzie flew down and joined me for part of the road trip. I was in my early 20s, had almost no savings, and a vague plan but it didn’t matter. I knew Kenzie was my person, and I was right.
Five years later, we were ready to start a family. I had finished my Psychology degree, Kenzie was halfway through her double engineering major, and neither of us fit the traditional “mom” mold, I’m loud, funny, I overshare, and I curse. But we both wanted children, and we began the process of selecting a sperm donor and using IUI.
Our first choice was perfect on paper he was tall, smart, and shared many of Kenzie’s physical traits. But then we learned we were both carriers of the same disease. The odds of having a child affected were small, but it felt terrifying. We selected another donor, even better suited to our family, and proceeded.
The first IUI attempt failed, and I cried for days. Kenzie was my rock, helping me through my anxiety and despair. The second attempt succeeded, and I became pregnant. Excitement mixed with fear especially with COVID-19 making every appointment isolating. I developed gestational diabetes and had to attend appointments alone. I worried constantly about my baby’s safety and my ability to be a good mother.
I managed the pregnancy, controlling my gestational diabetes and growing our baby carefully. Labor, however, was frightening. My water broke, contractions started immediately, and pain quickly became unbearable. Epidural relief didn’t work properly, and after three hours of pushing with the baby stuck, I was ready to give up. With Kenzie’s encouragement, I delivered our son, Asher. He weighed nine pounds and was perfect, though he had a large bruise on his head and had to stay in the hospital a few extra days.
Once we were home, the baby blues hit hard. I cried from happiness, exhaustion, and relief, but the sadness intensified. I started overthinking, panicking, and crying uncontrollably. I worried constantly about my child’s safety and health. Even with amazing support from Kenzie, I felt completely out of control.
After six months, I sought help. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, postpartum OCD, extreme anxiety, and PTSD from my traumatic labor. Medication and therapy finally gave me a plan, and that sense of structure was life changing.
Being a lesbian mom added another layer of stress. Society places extra expectations on same-sex parents, and people questioned whether Asher could grow up “normally” without a male figure. Finding a therapist who understood this aspect of my experience was essential.
To other parents pregnant, postpartum, or struggling, I want to say: trust yourself. You are not alone. Postpartum mental health struggles are common. Pregnancy, birth, and motherhood can be breathtakingly beautiful and incredibly difficult. You are allowed to feel every emotion, to ask for help, and to prioritize your well-being.
Motherhood doesn’t require perfection. Take a break, rest, and forgive yourself. You are strong, resilient, and deserving of support and love. Trust yourself, know your worth, and get help when you need it. Your child will thrive, and so will you.
