Small Steps, Big Leaps: Finding Myself Through Postpartum Anxiety
This week is Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week, and if you’re anything like me, it has a way of gently (or not so gently) pulling you back into those early postnatal days. The ones that feel both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.
At 23, I gave birth to my incredible daughter who is now a brilliant, energetic, whirlwind of a toddler. But back then? I was a brand new mum, completely unprepared for just how different my experience would look.
Labour itself? Quick, intense and then done. I genuinely thought, “Wow, I’ve smashed that.” But processing it afterwards? Not quite so quick.
Almost immediately, anxiety crept in and made itself very comfortable. Every noise had me on edge and my own sleep (despite having a sleeping baby) felt impossible. I was scared to fall asleep, convinced something might go wrong if I did. Before long, exhaustion took over. Not just “new mum tired,” but a deep, disorientating sleep deprivation that started to feel completely overwhelming.
My support network (partner and close family) noticed before I could fully admit it myself. I was jumping at everything like the kettle boiling, a car passing, a knock at the door. I even started hearing things that weren’t there. Thankfully, my incredible partner stepped in and reached out for help.
That’s when I was told I had postnatal anxiety and I was offered immediate therapy and medications to ease the anxiety.
Now, I’d always known anxiety, but this felt like a whole different beast. Then came the reality of nights that blurred into mornings: 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am feeds… followed by nappies, repeats, and trying to function on what felt like negative hours of sleep. When my partner went back to work, it was just me and this perfect tiny human, and a world that suddenly felt very, very big and very, very scary.
For about a week, I stayed inside. Safe, but stuck. Until one day, I realised something had to change so I decided I’d go for a walk.
Now, when I say I prepared for this walk… I mean I prepared. I packed enough supplies to live off-grid for a month. Nappies, wipes, bottles, snacks, spare clothes, spare everything. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t pack a camping stove. All this… for a short stroll around where I lived.
And then, just as I stepped off the ledge of my doorstep, instant anxiety. Shaking, dizzy and overwhelmed. Why did the world feel so terrifying? I went back inside feeling like I’d failed. But that night, I made a promise to myself, that tomorrow, I’ll try again. Even if it’s just five minutes.
The next day was one of those perfect July days, the kind where the sun feels like it’s cheering you on. So I tried again.
I remember so vividly gripping the pram so tightly my knuckles turned white, shuffling forward like I was learning to walk all over again. But then… something shifted.
I was doing it. Step by step, I realised I was outside, breathing fresh air. And most importantly, we were okay. My grip loosened. My steps turned from shuffles to more confident strides. And at one point, I actually laughed out loud at myself, slightly hysterical laughter. Because the situation felt ridiculous. Except… it wasn’t ridiculous at all. It was brave and it was progress. With each breath outside, I felt the anxiety lift from me, my shoulders felt less tense, I felt more awake and more present.
From that day on, I walked every day. Each time with a little less “kitchen sink” and a little more confidence. Within a week, I was walking into town, finding any reason to go, just to get outside.
I began to notice my daughter noticing the world. Staring up out of her bassinet watching birds fly overhead, I can remember crying (so many hormones!) thinking, that’s the first time she’s seen birds! What a curiosity! It became our daily exercise in those early days, just the two of us, and Somerset right on our doorstep. We’d have lunch by the duck pond, and walk back along the nature trail. As she grew, her babbles to the sky in her bassinet, became giggles at the ducks, became the words “duck duck!”, became toddles next to me, walking together asking every question she could about the world around her.
Those walks became our thing. Our rhythm, our reset button. Living in Somerset, we’re lucky to have nature right on our doorstep and I started to see it properly for the first time. The fields, the parks, the quiet paths I’d never explored before. It wasn’t just exercise but it was space to breathe, to think, to feel like myself again.
Walking didn’t fix everything overnight, but it helped, massively. And alongside that, the support I received from the postnatal mental health team was life-changing. That support matters.
Now at 25, I’m more confident than I was before motherhood. I’m curious again, just like my daughter. I see the world differently because of her, and because I gave myself permission to take those small steps.
Friday’s theme for Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week is Voices of Change, and that’s exactly what this is. Change doesn’t always look like big, bold moments. Sometimes, it looks like stepping outside your front door. Sometimes it looks like asking for help. Sometimes it looks like admitting, “I’m not okay.” By sharing our stories, we help others feel less alone. We challenge stigma. We make it easier for the next mum to speak up and access the help needed.
If you’re in those early days and the world feels overwhelming, if leaving the house feels impossible, if you’re running on empty, you are not alone.
- Start small
- Five minutes
- A few steps
- A breath of fresh air
And please don’t be afraid to ask for help. Speak to your midwife, health visitor, GP, or someone you trust. Because those small steps? They really can become the biggest leaps.
Looking for support?
Maternal Health Alliance:
https://maternalmentalhealthalliance.org/get-involved/maternal-mental-health-awareness-week/
Perinatal and Maternal Mental Health Service in Somerset:
www.somersetft.nhs.uk/perinatal-mental-health/