FOUR months ago, a close friend of mine ushered a new life into this amazing world.
We were all absolutely ecstatic, naively believing that after nine gruelling months of pregnancy, giving birth would officially close the chapter on mood swings, physical discomfort, and insecurities.
Well, we were in for a massive life lesson in the form of postpartum depression.
We congratulated her, showered her with love and visited her in the hospital where everything, on the surface, seemed perfectly fine. However, six weeks post-partum, I called her to check in.
In the joyous spirit of makorokoto, I asked if there was anything specific she or the baby needed before my upcoming visit. Her response caught me off-guard: “Don’t worry about the baby, the thing looks nothing like me.”
As bizarre and unsettling as that sounded, I laughed it off at the moment, dismissing it as just another quirky joke.
But seeing her in person changed everything, I instantly realised something was deeply off. It had been six weeks since the birth and she looked nothing like fine.
She had entirely detached herself, dumping the baby on the nanny, confessing that she felt old, unattractive and utterly drained. She actively avoided company and demanded isolation.
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Being a learned and observant friend, not to brag, but out of genuine love, I connected the dots. I gently but firmly advised her to see a professional therapist.
Thankfully, because she respects my perspective, something clicked for her too. She sought help, was officially diagnosed with postpartum depression and is on a courageous path to recovery.
Driven by this experience, I decided to check in on a few other ladies who had given birth within the last eight months just to chat about their emotional well-being.
The feedback I received was deeply concerning. After researching the condition, I am now certain that what these women described to me was postpartum depression, manifesting in varying degrees of severity.
Tragically, it is a crisis that our society lacks fundamental knowledge of, meaning it is routinely brushed under the rug. New mothers are frequently dismissed as merely throwing tantrums for attention or worse, rebelling against their new maternal duties.
Mental health is poorly understood in our region, where certain religious circles, particularly within some Christian communities, absurdly link postpartum depression to "demons of anti-marriage." Pathetic, right?
To truly understand the gravity of what my friend and countless others go through, we must look at the clinical reality of this condition.
According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), postpartum depression (PPD) is a severe form of clinical depression that affects approximately 1 in 10 new mothers globally, though the numbers are often much higher in regions where mental health stigma prevents reporting. WHO identifies key signs and symptoms that go far beyond the transient "baby blues".
These include severe anxiety, persistent sadness, emotional detachment from the newborn, overwhelming fatigue, feelings of worthlessness or guilt and sleep disturbances even when the baby is sleeping.
In severe cases, it can escalate to thoughts of self-harm or harming the infant. WHO emphasises that PPD is not a character flaw or a spiritual failure; it is a medical condition triggered by a drastic drop in hormones (estrogen and progesterone) after childbirth, combined with sleep deprivation and social isolation.
Treatment, as recommended by global health standards, requires a combination of psychological therapy, such as Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and when necessary, prescribed antidepressants alongside a robust support system.
When we analyse the severity of this situation, it becomes clear that our healthcare system is failing these women. Health education during prenatal visits, as well as community home visits in remote areas, must tackle maternal mental health in depth.
This education cannot just be for the mother, it must actively include husbands, partners and extended family members so they can grasp the psychological weight of childbirth.
We need to dismantle the dangerous myths that weaponise religion against medical crises. As friends and families, our role is pivotal.
We must check on new mothers regularly, look past the forced smiles and encourage them to open up in safe, judgement-free spaces.
That little gesture of genuine empathy, that simple act of listening, is not just polite; it is life-saving support that can prevent the devastating extremes of suicide, infanticide, or filicide. It is time we break the silence.
