Mental health is incredibly personal, and pregnancy doesn't affect any two people in exactly the same way. I'm not a mental health professional, and I'm certainly not here to tell anyone how they should feel or what they should do. I'm sharing this because mental health has played a much bigger role in my pregnancy than I ever expected it to, and I know how isolating some of those feelings can be.
I went into pregnancy already living with PTSD, so I knew my mental health was something I'd need to be mindful of. What I don't think I fully understood was just how much pregnancy could amplify certain feelings, introduce completely new ones, and sometimes make it difficult to recognise what was pregnancy, what was anxiety, and what was simply me trying to adjust to one of the biggest changes of my life.
So this isn't a story about how pregnancy should feel. It's just my story — the beautiful parts, the difficult parts, and the parts I think we need to feel a little safer talking about. 🤍
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A Little Bit About Where I Came From
Before falling pregnant, I'd already spent years working on myself and trying to put things in place to help me through the bad mental health days. None of those things magically make the bad days disappear — I really wish they did — but they do make them a little easier to navigate.
Before I tell you about the things that have helped me, though, I think it's important to tell you a little bit about why my mental health has been such a big part of my life in the first place.
I grew up with an incredibly abusive father, both mentally and physically. From a very young age, my brother and I witnessed and experienced things that no child should ever have to. Some of my earliest memories involve watching my father physically abuse my mum, trying to wake her after he'd knocked her unconscious, and watching my mum put herself between him and my brother when he tried to fight him. And honestly, those examples barely scratch the surface.
When you grow up surrounded by things like that, you grow up very quickly.
My mum finally found the strength to leave when I was 11, and while we were finally away from the situation itself, that didn't mean everything we'd lived through suddenly disappeared. For me, the years that followed were filled with depression and anxiety while I tried to process things I hadn't been old enough to understand when they were happening.
Being 11, 12, 13 or 14 is hard enough without trying to navigate all of that at the same time. At school, I genuinely felt like I was the only person in the world experiencing the emotions I was feeling. Whenever I eventually trusted someone enough to open up about what I'd been through, I often ended up feeling like they didn't believe me, that I was somehow too much, or that there was something wrong with me. It made those teenage years incredibly lonely, and it's a huge part of why I hated school so much.
At 16, much to my mum's understandable dislike, I decided to try having a relationship with my father again. I think a part of me still desperately wanted that dad figure in my life. And for an hour over lunch or dinner, he could play that role incredibly well.
What I hadn't understood yet was that being able to act like a dad for an hour didn't make him one.
About six months later, I went away with him and his new wife for five days. I won't go into all the details, but the trip ended with him taking my phone, locking me inside a caravan and the police being called to come and get me.
That was the last time I ever spoke to him.
The years afterwards involved psychiatrists, trying to understand my own brain and, at times, finding ways to cope that weren't healthy. At 17, I got into a relationship with someone who smoked weed, and eventually I started smoking every day too. For a while, numbing everything felt easier than actually feeling it. But over the three years that followed, what I thought was helping me cope eventually began making my anxiety so much worse.
After leaving that relationship, something changed. I stopped smoking weed, started seeing psychiatrists again and began putting real work into my mental health. Not trying to pretend the past hadn't happened, but learning how to live a meaningful life despite the fact that it had.
I'm 26 now, and there is one thing I've carried with me through all of it:
I want to live every single day being the complete opposite of the man who shares my DNA and I will never ever allow my children to experience anything like that.
And now that I'm becoming a parent myself, that means more to me than it ever has before. 🤍
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How I Knew He Was the One
One of the biggest reasons I wanted to share that part of my story is because, strangely enough, it's also a huge part of how I knew Tenison was the one.
It was only really within the last year and a half that I decided I actually wanted to become a mum. It was never because I didn't want children of my own. Deep down, I think I'd always loved the idea of having a family. But there was one thing I'd promised myself for as long as I can remember:
I would rather give up the chance to become a mum than have children with a man I couldn't see being a good dad to our babies.
Because of that, motherhood wasn't something I allowed myself to seriously picture for a very long time.
I'd had two serious relationships before Tenison, and both of them pushed the idea of having children very early on. Looking back, I don't believe it was because they genuinely wanted to build a family with me — it felt more like having a baby was another way of making sure I wouldn't leave. And no matter how much they talked about it, there was always something inside me saying no. I could never picture either of them being the father of my children.
I remember watching one of my exes around his own nieces and nephews. They wouldn't even get excited or really acknowledge him when he walked into the room because he simply didn't give them much attention. It might sound like such a small thing, but to me, it said so much.
Then I met Tenison.
I watched him with his two nieces and two nephews, and the difference was impossible to miss. Those kids are genuinely some of the most important people in his world. He absolutely adores them, and you can see how much they adore him right back.
And I think that's when something in me started to change.
For the first time, having children wasn't something that scared me or something I couldn't picture. I could actually imagine it — because I wasn't just looking at the man I loved anymore.
I was looking at someone I knew would be an incredible dad.
After growing up seeing exactly the kind of father I never wanted for my children, there was something incredibly special about finally meeting the man who made me realise I didn't have to be afraid of repeating that story.
For the first time, I wasn't just thinking about whether I wanted to be a mum.
I was excited about the idea of us becoming parents together. 🤍
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Pregnancy & My Mental Health
Now, let's actually talk about pregnancy and mental health, because I would be lying if I said this part of pregnancy has been a walk in the park for me.
I have a lot of really good days. Days where I feel completely like myself, I'm excited about everything that's ahead of us and I genuinely feel great. But then there are other days that are really, really hard.
Something you should probably know about me is that, before falling pregnant, I cried maybe twice a year. Over the years, I'd become incredibly good at taking whatever I was feeling, putting it into a little box and shoving that box into the furthest corner of my brain possible. Healthy? Probably not. But it was how I'd learnt to cope.
Pregnancy apparently decided those boxes were no longer welcome.
Since falling pregnant, every month or so I'll have a completely random day where I just cannot stop crying. And when I say there's no reason for it, I genuinely mean there is NO reason. Nothing bad has happened. Nobody has upset me. I'll just wake up emotional and suddenly everything is enough to set me off.
One day, Tenison brought me a cup of Milo while I was having one of these days and I started crying. Then I realised I was crying over a bloody cup of Milo, started laughing at myself... while I was still crying.
I remember sitting there thinking, “What the hell is wrong with me?!”
And that's probably been one of the strangest adjustments for someone who spent so many years learning how to keep her emotions tucked away — pregnancy seems to have walked into my carefully organised little emotional storage room, opened every box and gone, “Yeah... we're feeling ALL of this now.”
When Everything Feels Like Too Much
Another part of my mental health that I've really had to learn to navigate during pregnancy is overthinking. It's something I've struggled with for as long as I can remember, but pregnancy seems to have turned the volume up on it.
There are days where one tiny thought can snowball into ten others, and before I know it, I've completely overwhelmed myself. Sometimes it gets to the point where I can feel myself slipping into a really low, depressed state, and I have to work incredibly hard to stop my thoughts from pulling me further into that hole.
A lot of the time, it's actually the most ordinary things that trigger it.
There are days where I'll come home from work absolutely exhausted and all my body wants me to do is lie down. But instead of allowing myself to rest, I'll look around the house and notice the dishes that have been sitting there since yesterday. I'll remember that Tenison doesn't have any clean work clothes. I'll see things lying around that I haven't put away. Then I'll realise I haven't made his lunch either.
Suddenly, I'm not looking at a few completely normal household jobs anymore. In my head, they've turned into this enormous list of everything I haven't done.
And then comes the guilt.
Why can't I just get up and do it?
Why am I struggling with something so simple?
Why can't I keep on top of everything like I normally would?
The more I think about everything I should be doing, the more overwhelmed I become — and the more overwhelmed I become, the harder it feels to actually do any of it. Some days, that cycle has genuinely been enough to push me into a really dark place.
I think one of the hardest things I've had to learn during pregnancy is that being physically capable of doing something doesn't always mean I have the mental or emotional capacity to do it that day. And that's been a really difficult adjustment for someone who has always expected herself to just get on with things.
I'm still learning how to give myself permission to leave the dishes for another day, let the washing wait, or simply tell Tenison, “I don't have it in me today.” Because sometimes the thing I actually need most isn't to tick everything off the list.
Sometimes I just need to let myself rest without convincing myself that I've failed because of it. 🤍
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The Little Things That Help Me 🤍
Over the years, I've found a few little things that help me when my mental health isn't at its best. None of these are magic fixes, and they certainly don't make the bad days disappear, but sometimes they make those days feel just that little bit easier to get through. These are simply the things that work for me and I hope can help you in the future.
Journalling
One of the biggest things I've found that helps me is journalling. I've never been particularly good at putting my feelings into words when I'm trying to explain them to another person, but for some reason, putting pen to paper feels completely different.
The biggest trick I've learnt is to give myself one rule: don't go back and read the previous pages.
It sounds like such a small thing, but it completely changed the way I journal. Knowing that I'm not going to come back tomorrow and analyse everything I've written means I can be completely honest in that moment. I can write down the messy thoughts, the irrational thoughts, the things that make absolutely no bloody sense — without worrying that tomorrow-me is going to read it and think, “What the hell was I carrying on about?”
Sometimes what I write probably wouldn't make sense to anybody else, and honestly, it doesn't need to. I'm not writing it to create something beautiful or even something worth reading again. I'm writing it to get what's in my head, out of my head.
And sometimes, just having somewhere completely judgement-free to put those thoughts is enough to make everything feel that little bit lighter. 🤍
Finding Something Positive
Another little thing I've taught myself to do is look for something positive when my brain starts heading somewhere negative.
Whenever I notice a negative thought creeping in, I try to find something good — literally anything — to focus on instead. It doesn't have to be some huge, life-changing positive. Sometimes it's as simple as, “The weather is absolutely beautiful today,” or “That lovely old lady in the shop smiled at me.” It can be the tiniest, most insignificant little moment, but I make myself stop and actually acknowledge it.
I know it sounds so cliché! And when you first start doing it, it can honestly feel a little pointless — especially on the days where your brain seems determined to find something wrong with absolutely everything.
But I've found that the more I've practised it, the more naturally it starts to happen. Over time, it's almost like I've trained my brain to look for the little bits of good, even on the days where the bad feels much louder.
It doesn't make the negative thoughts disappear, and it certainly doesn't mean pretending everything is wonderful when it isn't. For me, it's simply a way of reminding myself that a bad moment doesn't have to make the entire day a bad one. 🤍
Surround Yourself With Good People
One of the biggest things pregnancy has taught me is just how important the people you surround yourself with really are.
Pregnancy changes your priorities. Suddenly, you might not feel like going out drinking every weekend. You might be exhausted and cancel plans. Your baby, your health and your little family naturally start taking up more space in your life — and sometimes, unfortunately, not everyone handles that change well.
If a friend starts disappearing because you can't go out drinking with them anymore, or because suddenly you have priorities that don't revolve around them, let them go.
I've learnt that you shouldn't have to chase people or feel guilty for the way your life is changing. The good ones won't make you feel bad for it. They'll understand when you're exhausted. They'll check in on you. They'll celebrate this new chapter with you, and they'll still be standing beside you even when your life looks completely different to how it did before.
If anything, pregnancy has a funny way of showing you exactly who your people are.
And while sometimes that realisation can hurt, I've started looking at it differently. I'd rather have a smaller circle filled with people who genuinely love and support me than a huge one full of people who are only around when I'm convenient for them. 🤍
Be Kind to Yourself
And lastly — probably the one I'm still learning myself — be kind to yourself.
Pregnancy is a lot. Physically, mentally and emotionally. Your body is changing, your hormones are doing whatever the hell they feel like, your priorities are shifting, and somewhere amongst all of that, you're still expected to carry on with everyday life as though nothing has changed.
There will be days where you feel amazing and get everything done, and there will be days where simply getting yourself out of bed feels like an achievement. Both of those days are okay.
I'm slowly learning that leaving the dishes until tomorrow doesn't make me lazy. Having a cry doesn't make me weak. Needing some time to myself doesn't make me selfish. And admitting that I'm struggling doesn't take away from how incredibly grateful I am to be pregnant.
I think that's probably the biggest thing I want someone reading this to take away from my story. You don't have to love every second of pregnancy to love your baby. You can be unbelievably excited to become a mum while also admitting that some days are bloody hard. Those two things can exist at exactly the same time.
I've spent a huge part of my life learning how to survive difficult things, but pregnancy has started teaching me something a little different — I don't always have to be tough.
Sometimes I need to journal the thoughts out of my head. Sometimes I need to search for one tiny positive in an otherwise crappy day. Sometimes I need my people around me. And sometimes I need to leave everything exactly where it is, climb into bed and try again tomorrow.
I'm certainly not writing this because I've mastered my mental health. I haven't. I still have bad days, I still overthink, and I'm still learning as I go. I'm sharing it because if you're pregnant and struggling with your mental health too, I want you to know that you don't have to hide the harder parts just because this is supposed to be a happy chapter of your life.
Be gentle with yourself. Reach out when you need help, whether that's to someone you love or a health professional, and give yourself the same kindness you'd give someone else if they told you they were struggling.
You're allowed to be excited. You're allowed to be overwhelmed. You're allowed to have good days and really shitty ones. And you're allowed to take this whole motherhood thing one day at a time. 🤍
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This is simply my personal experience with pregnancy and mental health, not professional advice. If you're struggling or you're worried about how you're feeling, please reach out to your doctor, maternity team or a mental health professional. You deserve to have support around you.
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