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Maternal mental health: Honest stories from Aberdeen mums
By Mission10 Admin | 5 May 2026 11 min read
There’s a version of motherhood we hear about so often - the “newborn bubble.” A hazy, love-filled time where nothing else matters but you and your baby. Soft light, sleepy cuddles and an overwhelming rush of connection that feels instant and all-consuming.
But for many mums, that bubble doesn’t look or feel like that at all.
Behind closed doors, in the quiet moments between feeds and sleepless nights, many women are navigating something far more complex. Feelings they didn’t expect. Thoughts they don’t recognise. Emotions they’re often too afraid to say out loud.
As part of Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week, we’re sharing the voices of courageous women in our community - mums who have chosen to open up about the parts of motherhood that are rarely spoken about.
If you’re a mum, a mum-to-be or someone supporting one, we hope these stories help.
“With both of my pregnancies, I experienced a lot of anxiety. I would imagine worst-case scenarios and everything that could go wrong. With my first daughter, that was the extent of it. After she was born, I mainly felt anxious in the evenings - a dread about how the night would go - but it didn’t go further than that.
“I fell pregnant with my second daughter just six months postpartum, which, looking back, probably didn’t help my headspace. I really struggled to feel excited. There were a lot of opinions from others about having two so close together - some positive, but mostly negative. When I told people, the response was often, “Oh my god, why?”
“That made it really hard to feel excited, and instead left me feeling anxious and uncertain about how I would cope. I almost convinced myself I would struggle.
“The pregnancy itself was fine. But the birth was very different from what I expected. There were more interventions - she was back-to-back, and I ended up in theatre for forceps and an episiotomy. It was scary, and I think that experience contributed to what came next.
“At first, things seemed okay. I felt more confident the second time around. But then, just one week postpartum, I was made redundant. That had a huge impact on my mental health during what was already a hormonal and emotional time.
“Around then, Ivy became very unsettled. She was constantly crying, and we were back and forth between health visitors and doctors. I felt like no one was really listening to me - everything was dismissed as colic, but I knew something wasn’t right.
“Eventually, she was diagnosed with a cow’s milk allergy - after four months.
“By that point, my mental health was in pieces. Even the smallest sounds - not just crying, but moaning or gurgling - would trigger overwhelming anxiety and sometimes even rage. I felt hopeless and couldn’t see a way out.
“I struggled to leave the house. I remember trying to go for a walk but not even making it down the drive before turning back. My living room became my safe space, but staying inside for days on end only made things worse.
“When my health visitor came round, she recognised something wasn’t right and referred me to the NHS perinatal mental health team. Even after the first consultation, I felt lighter - finally, someone understood.
“I started CBT twice a week via video calls, which really helped. It was manageable from home, and I was given small, achievable steps - like walking just 100 metres further than the day before. Slowly, I built my confidence.
“The biggest turning point was opening up. I stopped pretending everything was fine and accepted help. Having time to myself also made a huge difference. It helped me reconnect with who I was and allowed me to be a better mum.
“If someone offers help - take it. Even if everything in you says no. That time to yourself is so important.
“Be honest with your health visitor and doctor. No one will know how you’re feeling unless you tell them. There’s no benefit to suffering in silence.
“I’d also say go to the baby groups, even when it’s the last thing you want to do. Especially then. Talking to others makes you feel lighter - a problem shared really is a problem halved. You’ll likely find others have felt the same.
“Check in on your friends too - even if they’ve had babies before. Every experience can be different.
“With Ivy, everything felt very dark for a long time - probably until she was around 7 or 8 months old. But things did eventually shift.
“When I was in that fog, I stayed inside, cancelled plans and felt like the walls were closing in. I sometimes feel guilty now for not remembering much of that time or for saying no to things, but I’ve learned that doesn’t make me a bad mum.
“There is no “perfect” postpartum experience. What you see online isn’t always reality. Do what’s best for you and your family. Try not to compare. And remember, this is temporary. It might not feel like it, but there is light at the end of the tunnel.”
“I always knew I wanted to be a mum from a young age and was 24 when I gave birth to my first son. I was the first out of my friends to have a baby and had no real experience, even though I’d always considered myself good with children.
“Throughout my pregnancy, I never felt like I bonded with my son. We found out the gender, and I hoped that might help, but it didn’t. I had a smooth pregnancy and a positive birth, but the minute my son was placed in my arms, I remember thinking, “What have I done?” and “How will I cope with this life-changing responsibility?”
“I didn’t feel the instant bond or rush of love so many people talk about. I hadn’t heard anyone else say they felt that way, and I was scared to admit it for fear of judgement. My son was so wanted, and I couldn’t help but resent myself for feeling like this.
“The first couple of months were a huge struggle. Like many new parents, I was adjusting to very little sleep, but we also had feeding issues and my son was unsettled. I found myself grieving my old life and hating myself for having a baby I couldn’t bond with. I wondered if I would ever feel love for him.
“Each evening, I felt a sense of dread as it got dark and we closed the curtains, knowing we were heading into another unsettled night. When you’re already exhausted, all you want is sleep.
“Even though I struggled to bond, I found it incredibly hard to let others hold him or help me. I became very overprotective and put huge pressure on myself to do everything. Leaving the house felt overwhelming - the preparation alone was daunting, and I found breastfeeding in public really difficult.
“Things started to ease when my son was around four months old. We found a routine with sleep, his tummy settled and I stopped breastfeeding, which allowed my partner to help more. I also went back on the antidepressants I had been on before pregnancy. Around that time, I began to bond with my son and started enjoying being out with him.
“If I could go back and tell myself anything, it would be this: things really do get easier, as cliché as it sounds. I would say the same to any expectant or new mum. The bond might not come instantly, but it will come.
“It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for or accept help. You haven’t lost yourself, you’re becoming a new version of you. Your body might not “bounce back,” and that’s okay. Take time to recover and soak up those early months, because you don’t get them back.
“I also wish I hadn’t felt pressured to have so many visitors early on. I was at my lowest, and it added to my anxiety. Don’t feel guilty for taking the time you need to recover, bond and find your feet.
“My son is now nine, and I was fortunate enough to have a second smooth pregnancy and birth with my youngest. Whilst I faced the same struggles the second time round, I knew there was light at the end of the tunnel.
“My boys are my world and it’s true what they say - the days are long, but the years are short. Remember the hard times are a phase, and I promise you will find yourself again.”
“Becoming a mum changed everything for me, like it does for so many. But what I didn’t expect was how quickly things would unravel after a traumatic birth.
“I found myself in a spiral and didn’t recognise who I had become. Physically, I was recovering for months, doing physio for diastasis recti. Mentally, I felt even more lost.
“Exercise has always been a huge part of my life. It grounds me and gives me clarity, but I couldn’t do it. Instead of focusing on what I had gained, I became fixated on everything I felt I had lost: my independence, my identity, my freedom.
“There were moments I felt like I had made a mistake. I grieved my old life, even during pregnancy, while wishing time would speed up just to see if things might get better.
“The hardest part was never my baby - it was my state of mind. But I didn’t understand that at the time.
“Everyone around me seemed to be saying, “Isn’t it the best?” and “I’m loving it - aren’t you?” And inside, I felt like screaming. How were they enjoying this? Was everyone pretending? Why couldn’t I feel the same?
“I told my health visitor I was “fine, just tired.” At the time, I genuinely believed that.
“I tried therapy, hoping it would help me make sense of everything, but I didn’t connect with the therapist. It actually brought a lot to the surface that I struggled to process.
“Eventually, I went to my doctor and told them everything - not just how I felt, but everything happening around me. That was the turning point.
“Slowly, the fog began to lift. Leaving the house didn’t feel impossible anymore. Driving out of Ellon became a milestone. Even simple things like going for a walk started to feel manageable.
“Before that, I used to think, “If I’m going to feel miserable, I might as well stay home.” That mindset gradually changed.
“I feel strongly about understanding the difference between “low mood” and postnatal depression. It took me 18 months to start medication - 18 months of struggling without realising how bad things had become.
“It was only once I began to feel better that I could look back and truly see it.
“As I recovered, I returned to exercise, signed up for Race for Life and eventually ran my first 10K. That moment meant so much more than just fitness.
“My experience with my second daughter was completely different. This time, I had support from the perinatal mental health team during pregnancy and after birth. I felt prepared, supported and aware - and that awareness changed everything.
“How are you supposed to recognise postnatal depression when everything about motherhood is new?
“We don’t talk about it enough - and we should.
“If you’re feeling low more often than not, take small steps back toward yourself. Do the things that remind you who you are. Go for a walk. Listen to your favourite music. Accept help.
“You don’t have to do it all alone.
“Like a flamingo, we can lose our pink - but when it comes back, it comes back brighter than ever.”
A note from us
If you recognise yourself in any of these stories, please know you are not alone - and support is out there. Speaking up can feel incredibly hard, but it can also be the first step toward feeling like yourself again.
And if you’re supporting a mum - keep checking in. Your message, your time, your listening ear could mean more than you realise.
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