As a parent who has navigated perinatal mental health struggles firsthand, I know how easy it is to slip into survival mode while everyone around you assumes you're coping. When a new baby arrives, the spotlight quickly shifts away from the parents, leaving many of us to quietly wrestle with exhaustion, worry, and emotions that feel too heavy to name, unless someone makes space for us to say, "Actually, I'm not okay."
When a baby arrives, it's natural and right that so much attention, love, and focus is on them. Every visitor, every appointment, every conversation revolves around the tiny new life. But in the midst of that, parents can easily fade into the background. While we wholeheartedly agree that babies need care, parents do too and it's all too easy for their stories, struggles, and need for support to be overlooked.
The reality is many parents feel this way. New survey data released for Perinatal Mental Health Week shows that nearly one in three parents wish a healthcare provider had asked about their mental health. Only one in five accesses professional support. And while almost half rely on their partner as their main support, more than a third are quietly yearning for connection with people who simply "get it."
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I understand this deeply because I've been in those exact shoes. Becoming a parent is one of the best experiences we can have but it can also be one of the loneliest. Those early months can be overwhelming. Everyone says you should be soaking up every moment, but sometimes what you're really soaking in is fatigue, self-doubt, or a sense that life no longer feels like your own as you are completely consumed by your role as a parent.
You can love your baby fiercely and still struggle. Those two truths can sit side by side.
The early months and years of parenthood can feel heavy for so many different reasons. Sleepless nights, the pressure to "get it right," shifting identities, financial stress, changes in relationships, and the constant mental load can all pile up. Add to that the isolation, the loss of a familiar routine, worries about returning to work, physical recovery, or the challenge of balancing the needs of multiple children, and it's easy to see why this period can feel overwhelming.
These challenges aren't rare, they're just rarely spoken about. Even today, stigma and silence stop many parents from reaching out. We still hold this old belief that motherhood or fatherhood 'should' come naturally, and when it doesn't, parents think "What's wrong with me?"
When parents aren't asked about their mental health, those worries stew quietly. By the time many families come to Peach Tree, they're often at breaking point. Months into anxiety, depression, or overwhelming loneliness, they've been carrying their struggles privately because they felt guilty, ashamed, or convinced that "everyone else is coping better than me."
But the truth is: they were never alone. They were just isolated. And that is where community changes everything.
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One of the most powerful things I've learned over the years is that the presence of community can be transformative. I've seen parents walk into our peer support groups and finally let out a breath they didn't even realise they'd been holding. They start talking, often carefully at first, and then slowly realising, "Oh… it's not just me." The relief is enormous. The connection is healing. And the simple act of being understood can shift the entire course of a parent's wellbeing.
Peer support isn't a replacement for clinical care, it's a missing piece. It's the human piece.
If we truly want to support families in Australia, now is the time to act on what this year's data is telling us. Our healthcare workers are stretched thin. Their time pressures are real. Many want to ask the deeper questions but feel they can't. Yet those conversations matter.