I Wanted a Child for Years, and Then, Once I Was Pregnant, I Didn’t

There is no one untouched by crises of mental health. And yet, when you or someone you love is going through it, it can often feel like you’re alone in the dark, searching for a light. In honor of World Mental Health Day, we are publishing a series of essays, starting today and running through the weekend, that tackle this topic through a personal lens. We hope these essays offer a little insight into the many ways that people struggle, and how they can come out the other side with dignity and grace.

When I was six weeks pregnant, I went hiking with a friend. Halfway up the mountain, I paused to catch my breath. I knew what I needed to say but I found myself struggling to say it. There was a heavy knot of dread in my stomach.

“I have some news,” I told her. “I’m pregnant.”

My friend was ecstatic. She started jumping up and down and shrieking with joy. I forced myself to smile but when she grabbed me for a hug, my face drooped. It felt like my lips weighed 50 pounds. I couldn’t even really remember how to smile properly. I held on to the hug for too long so she wouldn’t see my face and ask me what was wrong.

Because, what was wrong? I was married, had a career I loved, was healthy, and now was going to be a mother. I should have been thrilled to be pregnant; I had wanted to have a child for years. Why did I feel so awful?

Prenatal depression hit me fast. One night I went to bed, excited to have a baby. The next morning, I woke up and I didn’t want a child anymore. A dark cloud of dread hung over me. It felt like I had just gotten terrible news.

That first week, I canceled plans and spent afternoons curled up on the couch. Then, I stopped answering emails and checking my phone. I told myself I was just tired, or just nauseous. One day I was driving home on the freeway and my eyes kept flickering to the concrete median in the middle of the road. Would it be so bad, I thought, if I just drove into it? At least I wouldn’t have to feel this way anymore. In that moment, the idea of never waking up again sounded like a relief.