Is This Your First?

Pregnancy Loss. Postpartum. Mental Health. What People Don’t See.

It hadn’t even been 24 hours since my son was born. I was still trying to piece myself back together, physically, emotionally, mentally. I shuffled down the hospital corridor, my body raw from major surgery. I couldn’t even carry my baby. I needed help just to walk.

And then came the comment..

A midwife who supported me during labour smiled and said, “I’ll see you again soon.” I responded quietly, “I won’t be doing that again,” but she laughed, “They all say that, but you’ll be back in a year, I guarantee it!”

It might’ve been a throwaway comment to her. But for me, it felt like a slap.

Because behind my silence was a story she didn’t know, a story of loss, trauma, and the ongoing battle to protect my mental health. And that’s what people often miss when they make these assumptions.

Let’s talk about the pressure put on women to have more children.

The same society that tells you not to ask a childless woman when she’s having kids seems to have no issue interrogating a mother of one. The assumption is automatic: “When’s baby number two?”

But not every woman is built for that journey more than once. And some of us barely survived it the first time.

In 2022, I got pregnant, a miracle, or so I thought. But I lost that baby to an ectopic pregnancy. My body and my heart were cracked open. I was told I was lucky. Lucky it was caught early. Lucky it didn’t kill me. But I didn’t feel lucky. I felt broken.

And just four months later, I was pregnant again, before I’d had the chance to properly grieve, let alone heal.

That pregnancy was filled with complications. Placenta issues. Gestational diabetes. Pelvic pain. Group Strep B. Every scan brought more fear. Every appointment reminded me how fragile it all was. Mentally I was unable to relax, I had to endure. And I endured alone in many ways.

Then came a traumatic birth and a postpartum period marked by neglect, confusion, and crushing isolation. I was a new mum drowning in anxiety, recovery, and grief, yet people wanted to know when I’d be doing it again. As if my experience didn’t count.

So when I say I’m “one and done,” it’s not a flippant remark. It’s not a quirky lifestyle choice. It’s a boundary. A lifeline. A decision rooted in preserving my mental health and honouring my trauma.

Here’s the truth:

• Pregnancy loss is not rare.
• Postpartum mental health struggles are not rare.
• But talking about them still is.

We don’t talk enough about how becoming a parent can break you down before it builds you up. We don’t talk about how many women suffer in silence because we’re too scared to admit we’re struggling, or too tired to even explain it.

So during this Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to say this loud and clear:

You do not owe anyone a second child.

You do not have to justify your trauma.

Your mental health matters as much as your motherhood.

One child can be enough. One loss can change everything. One voice speaking truthfully can help another woman feel less alone.

If that’s you, know this: you’re not alone. And you don’t have to be everything to everyone. Your story matters. Your healing matters. And no one gets to write your motherhood journey but you.