Maternal Mental Health Awareness — We Are Not Meant To Do This Alone

Today is Maternal Mental Health Awareness Day | 7th May 2025

Welcome,

I felt moved to share something tender — a poem, some podcast episodes that have stayed close to my heart, and a reminder I wish all mothers could hold close.

For me, this is personal. I struggled following birth in 2021 in ways that went far beyond what anyone around me could see. Isolation crept in quietly. I fell into old patterns of hyper-independence, and there was no spiritual guidance as I moved through the profound shift from maiden to mother. I was carrying a traumatic birth experience, and while on paper I was "supported" — with financial security, good food, and tools for my physical health, none of this reached the part of me that was aching.

What I truly needed was human connection. Not virtual. Not intellectual. Real presence. (beyond my partner)

Yet during those days, especially through the pandemic, I leaned on what was available — podcasts, online groups, books. These kept me afloat, but they couldn’t replace being seen and held in the physical world.

That’s why this day feels so important to acknowledge. Maternal mental health encompasses so much — from depression and anxiety, to grief, rage, shame, confusion, intrusive thoughts, numbness, and deep loneliness. Sadly, many of these have been normalised and dismissed as 'just part of motherhood.' This is why so many mothers continue to suffer in silence.

A mother’s mental health matters as much as her physical well-being, yet too often it is overlooked or misunderstood. The deep wisdom of how to care for mothers after birth has faded from modern life. It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when this care was natural — woven into daily life through ritual, tending, and togetherness. Although much has been lost, crumbs remain. Threads still exist, and we can follow them back.

When a mother is held — when she is witnessed, nourished, and honoured — something essential is restored not only for her but for the entire community. Every mother deserves this. The truth is, we all need this. Bringing mothers back to the centre is not only healing for them individually but for us collectively.

"Maternal mental health matters. It's time to break the stigma, speak the unspoken, and honour our mothers and children. When mothers are held, humanity is held."

Neglecting mothers is often unintentional. Within families, it usually doesn't come from cruelty but from forgotten wisdom. It is a collective wound. We have normalised self-sufficiency to the point where mothers are expected to recover, rise, and carry on without the village they need.

Take a moment to consider how we celebrate new life. Baby showers, filled with gifts, often focus entirely on the baby. But where is the mother in this? Where are the offerings of food, practical support, visits to tidy her home, or simply sitting in quiet company while she rests or cries?

When Auraya turned one, I began supporting mainly mothers. It happened naturally after the launch of my podcast, Depths of Motherhood. I found myself listening to story after story. And woven through them all were the same words: "I felt alone. I felt unseen. I felt damaged."

The poem I will share below was born from these voices, alongside my own. Through listening deeply, a thread became clear. There is something we are collectively facing: a loss of authentic, loving connection.

Still, through all of this, I sense the return of wisdom. In women’s stories, in subtle cultural shifts, and in my own experiences, I can feel it. We are, in many ways, rebirthing together. We are confronting old wounds and ingrained beliefs. The process is not always easy. But as we meet them and integrate them, something precious emerges.

In that quiet space after the breakthrough, new wisdom is held in our hands. And from there, we offer it to others—not through fixing or perfecting, but through presence, tenderness, and sharing our story.

I’m Fine

A Poem By Danielle Catherine

The world looks different. 

I’m standing, observing, and I feel like I’m outside of the bubble. 

I look down at my unrecognizable self and feel like I’m looking out of the windows of a house I once knew.

There is sound, and it is deafening—yet so distant. 

My desires have dissolved into a dullness. 

I hear so much in my mind, but nothing makes an inch of sense. 

It’s frightening.

And though all of it—a little baby seeing me fully, all of me— I feel vulnerable.

I’m not sure I’m ready to be seen like this.

She looks like she knows me more than I know myself. 

So much delicacy and purity - and yet,

The screams, the never‑ending need for my breast, endless nights. 

What is this? 

Where is my mum?

Who is going to take care of me?

I can do this. Just smile and show your dedication to your new role.

You’re a mum now.

The best mum—soft, caring, and in love.

I do love her, I think? 

I’m a bad mum. No normal mum feels like this.

I’m so hungry.

The dishes are high; my house is a mess, and smells like something I can’t describe.

I’m washing the dishes, and my back aches.

I’d love to pee, but it stings— that doctor did a really great job at messing my vagina up.

Probably never having sex again—and anyway, he’s disgusting me.

No help. I’m alone. He didn’t save me; he couldn’t come in.

I was alone. He’ll never understand. Never.

Friends are coming over—well, they’re on Zoom because I’m in lockdown.

At least they won’t see the state of my house: pull it together, make jokes about the sleepless nights.

They see me but don’t see me.

“Ohhh, she’s so cute,” they reply. “Well done, mama—you're so lucky the hospital was close by. The most important thing is you’re both healthy.” 

I smile.

Yes, I’m totally ungrateful.

Maybe I won’t share what happened—after all, we’re both alive.

Baby cries. I can’t concentrate.

I’ll stay on. They’re getting uneasy—I get it.

It’s extremely annoying: “Bye speak soon”—they won’t call for weeks.

Instagram tells me motherhood is sacred and a gift.

What is wrong with me?

 The day has seemed to last forever.

I’m sad but cannot cry. Maybe I'm mad? I'm not sure?

I’m also incredibly amazed by this gift.

I really did grow a child and give birth to her. Incredible.

Baby cries. I can’t do this again. 

My nipples are bleeding, and my back is on fire.

Time passes.

Baby is six months—she’s crawling.

She sleeps more; my body is softer and I feel the light return.

But I’m sad. I don’t know why. I have a fire within me that explodes, and then coldness until nothing at all.

My family doesn’t see. My husband does, and I’m not sure how much more he can take.

I feel it and see it in his eyes: it’s been months since we made love.

My body feels closed off to him.

I’m with my friends in the coffee shop. They ask me, “How are you, really?”

I feel resentment—this is the first time I’ve seen them in months.

Where were they? They live the next town away. I feel like I don’t know them.

“Sorry, we didn’t come. We didn’t want to disturb you.”

I say, “Ohhh, it’s ok. It was a great time to hibernate, to get to know one another.”

My heart sinks. I needed you!

“So how are you?” they ask again. I smile. I’m fine.

But then one friend looks me deeply in the eye: “How are you?”

I go silent. My eyes are watering. Not now. But it’s too late.

This is the first time I’ve been seen fully by anyone outside of my bubble. 

And I don’t have words—I just cry. She holds me.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

I leave feeling dirty; now I’m the mother who has failed.

They’ll be different with me now—maybe they think I’m a bad mom?

I need to prove otherwise. I’ll message when I get home.

“Hey, beautiful ladies, thank you for a great day. Let’s do it again next week, and sorry for the breakdown—I’ve had so little sleep, but everything is fine.” 

Maybe I’ll suggest I take her kid on a play date to show I can handle everything— maybe a few more smiling Instagram posts?

A few days later, I cancel the date.

 I’m anxious, overwhelmed, and don’t feel like pretending. 

It’s nighttime; baby is asleep, husband is working.

The house doesn’t feel like home. I don’t feel like home.

I’m not sure I can do this anymore.

My friend messages: “I’m coming round tomorrow. If you don’t want company it’s fine, but I’m making lasagne for you. I can leave it outside. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. Please let me know how I can best support you now, if you will let me. I love you, and you’re doing great.”

My body softens; the tears fall.

A deep breath.

A relief like no other. It’s going to be ok.

Four Pillars of Health for Mothers

A framework that continues to resonate deeply with me is what Rachelle Garcia Seliga shares in her work — the Four Pillars of Health for Mothers.  They are basic, human needs that have always been essential for mothers to thrive:

• Warmth — not only physical warmth, but the warmth of presence and care.

• Food — nourishing, grounding meals prepared with love.

• Rest — protected time to recover and integrate.

• Community — loving human connection and the feeling of being held

• 
  

When these pillars are in place, something softens. The nervous system settles, the spirit steadies, and the mother remembers she is not alone.

This isn’t about fixing or rushing anyone’s journey. It’s about meeting her where she is, and staying close, with tenderness and respect.

If you ever feel concerned — whether it’s for yourself, a mother you love, or a child — and there are signs that something feels unsafe or at risk, please know it’s okay (and necessary) to reach for more immediate support.

This could look like:

• Calling a local emergency service or helpline (scroll below for a list of maternal mental health helplines around the world).

• Speaking with a trusted healthcare provider, midwife, or therapist trained in maternal mental health.

• Encouraging the mother, if she is willing, to connect with a postpartum support organization or crisis service.

• If urgent and immediate, ensuring she and the child are physically safe and calling emergency services if needed.

  
  

Seeking help is not shameful — it’s love in action. No mother should suffer silently, and no concern is ever too small to voice when it comes to the safety and wellbeing of mother and child.

Supportive Conversations

In those early days, podcasts became more than background noise — they became company. When everything felt tender, raw, or confusing, hearing other mothers and practitioners speak honestly was a thread that helped me hold on.

Through Depths of Motherhood, I’ve had the honour of sitting with incredible guests whose stories, wisdom, and presence continue to support not just me, but the many mothers who tune in.

Here are some episodes that feel especially alive for this conversation today:

• Mother Centered Communities with Rachelle Garcia Seliga — Exploring how vital it is to bring mothers back to the centre, where they belong.

• Mother's Blessings with Star - Tuning into the mother's needs and celebrating her.

• The World Needs Nourished Mothers with Brittney Fox — A reminder that tending to mothers is essential for the whole.

• Newborn Care with Melissa Boyles — Simple, grounded care for those tender early days.

• Babywearing Tips and Postpartum Care with Carla — Practical and nurturing insights for carrying your baby and tending to your own body.

• Sacred Postpartum with Brienne — Honouring postpartum as sacred, and reclaiming the reverence that has been lost.

• Scar Tissue: A Pillar of Health with Ellen Heed — A deep and eye-opening conversation about the physical and emotional layers of healing after birth.

• Mothering Was Never Meant to Be in Isolation with Beatriz — Sitting with the pain of loneliness and remembering that motherhood was always meant to be shared.

• Herbal Allies for Postpartum with Jay — Soft and accessible ways to invite plant medicine into postpartum life.

• Breastfeeding with Confidence with Olivia — Building trust and ease in your breastfeeding journey.

Where do we go from here?

Today and every day, may we hold mothers closer. May we ask "How are you, really?" and wait long enough to hear the truth. May we break the silence, tend to the spaces in between, and remember — it is not meant to be done alone. Together, we heal.

Love Danielle

Further Help and Support

🇺🇸 United States

• National Maternal Mental Health Hotline 📞 Call or Text: 1-833-TLC-MAMA (1-833-852-6262) 24/7 free, confidential support in English and Spanish for pregnant and postpartum individuals. 🔗 mchb.hrsa.gov

• Postpartum Support International (PSI) HelpLine 📞 Call: 1-800-944-4773 📱 Text: 503-894-9453 Offers support, resources, and referrals for perinatal mental health. 🔗 postpartum.net

• Crisis Text Line 📱 Text HOME to 741741 24/7 support for any type of crisis. 🔗 crisistextline.org

🇬🇧 United Kingdom

• Samaritans 📞 Call: 116 123 24/7 free support for anyone in distress. 🔗 samaritans.org

• Mind 📞 Call: 0300 123 3393 Provides information and support for mental health problems. 🔗 mind.org.uk

• Maternal Mental Health Alliance Offers resources and support for maternal mental health. 🔗 maternalmentalhealthalliance.org

🇦🇺 Australia

• PANDA (Perinatal Anxiety & Depression Australia) 📞 National Helpline: 1300 726 306 Mon–Fri, 9am–7:30pm AEST; Sat, 9am–4pm AEST. 🔗 panda.org.au

• Beyond Blue 📞 Call: 1300 22 4636 24/7 support for anxiety, depression, and suicide prevention. 🔗 beyondblue.org.au

• Lifeline Australia 📞 Call: 13 11 14 24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention services. 🔗 lifeline.org.au

🇨🇦 Canada

• Postpartum Support International – Canada Provides resources and support for perinatal mental health. 🔗 postpartum.net/canada

• Talk Suicide Canada 📞 Call: 1-833-456-4566 📱 Text: 45645 24/7 support for people in distress. 🔗 talksuicide.ca