In this blog, Hanaa Saleh intimately explores the complexities of motherhood, sharing her postpartum depression journey to shed light on challenges many mothers face.
By Hanaa Saleh*
Becoming a mother was the most extraordinary gift life has ever given me. I distinctly remember the moment I walked out of the operating room, drifting between life and death. I realized that if I survived, I would be reborn in more ways than one. I would transform into a new person who would now exist alongside the tiny miracle that had just emerged from my womb.
The first few days after the birth of my child were a mess of pain and discomfort. I was battling an illness, but despite the agony, my heart swelled with joy, knowing that my little one was doing well.
For the first three months, I cared for my son tirelessly, as if every moment with him could be my last. My emotions were a complex mixture of fear and happiness. Looking at him, I couldn’t believe this little creature had lived inside me for so many months. I counted his breaths and was afraid to stop for any reason.
Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not because he wasn’t well but because I was afraid that he would roll over in his sleep or that I forgot to nurse him. In those first days with my son, I put other things in my life on hold as I dedicated my life to my baby.
Then, one night, as I sat down to eat after nursing my son, I felt like everything was falling apart around me. My neck stiffened, my breathing became shallow, and thick white smoke clouded my vision. I was dying. I began to recite my last will to my then-husband, which was all about my son. It was as if I had no one left in the world but him…. as if my separation from everyone else no longer mattered.
I felt like I was dying. It was my first death.
Leaving my child behind, whom I had just brought back to life, was a heartbreaking experience. The next day, as the sun rose over the emergency room while I gasped for air from an oxygen tank, I realized I had been given a second chance at life, even if it was far from the life I had known.
I became a hostage to death but offered a temporary return to care for my son.
The years passed, and I focused solely on him while praying for mercy for my suffering. The feeling in those moments is indescribable – a feeling of being half alive, not enjoying life, and yet finding no comfort in death.
These are the moments we all want to avoid and would do anything to prevent.
More than a decade later, I was surviving for my son, pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion and choosing to collapse far away from him. My son is now approaching adulthood and unaware of the struggles raging around him.
With each breath, I felt the fear, neglect, and abandonment by those who had watched my condition with shock. Many quickly turned back to their lives and were grateful they were not burdened with my pain.
If someone had told me at the time that I was suffering from postpartum depression or the darkest form of depression, I would have welcomed it. I was sure I was dying, a little more each day, with no hope of recovery.
Then came the turning point.
One day, a visit to the dentist showed me the physical toll of my suffering. My teeth were falling out one by one, and my brother-in-law, who accompanied me, saw me fainting during the treatment. He took the initiative and took me to a psychiatrist.
This psychiatrist, who later tragically took his own life, was the one who diagnosed me with depression that had begun after birth and had progressed to panic attacks, anxiety, and severe depression due to neglect. He gave me a glimmer of hope, and that was all.
Now, 17 years later, I am writing this to help other mothers recognize the challenges they may face in the postpartum period. I want others to understand the enormous price a mother pays when she brings a new life into the world, a life that becomes her guiding light even in the darkest times.
*Hanaa Saleh is a journalist and filmmaker. She is originally from Yemen and has been living in the Netherlands for the last two years. She is a mother of two, a daughter and a son.
