Interview with Cameron Rogers, Motherhood and Mental Health Advocate

Some parts of motherhood are sweet and hilarious and unforgettable. Some parts are disorienting, lonely, and honestly scary. Both can be true at the same time. That tension sits at the heart of this conversation, where we talk candidly about postpartum depression, intrusive thoughts, support systems, social media, and the very real work of staying connected to ourselves and our partners while raising children.

Cameron Rogers has built a reputation for saying the quiet part out loud. She joins Dr. Thais Aliabadi and Mary Alice Haney to speak about motherhood with humor, honesty, and zero interest in pretending everything is polished. That openness makes this conversation especially helpful for anyone trying to understand postpartum mental health in a more human, less sanitized way.

Table of Contents

• Early Career, Health Struggles, and the Start of a New Path
• Pregnancy as a Reality Check
• Postpartum Depression Is Not Always What We Think
• What Helped During Postpartum Depression
• Why Sharing Helps
• The Social Media Problem We Need to Talk About
• What New Mothers Actually Need
• Why the Second Postpartum Experience Was Different
• Motherhood, Humor, and the Long View
• Protecting the Partnership After Kids
• What We Want to Carry Forward
• FAQ

Early Career, Health Struggles, and the Start of a New Path

What first pushed us toward this conversation about health, motherhood, and mental health?

It actually began far earlier than motherhood. Cameron shared that before the podcast, before the pregnancy content, and before the conversations around postpartum, she was working in finance in New York. On paper, everything looked impressive. She had the kind of job many people are taught to chase. But at the same time, her body was sounding alarms.

She dealt with intense digestive problems and spent years trying to figure out what was wrong. She was given a long list of labels that are common in gut health conversations, went through restrictive food eliminations, and changed the way she ate simply because so many everyday ingredients seemed to trigger symptoms. Those changes pushed her into cooking more of her own food, which later became part of her creative life online.

What makes her story striking is that the symptoms kept returning, which told her something deeper was being missed. Eventually, with more extensive testing, she learned she had very elevated mercury levels. The likely source was not a diet heavy in fish, but a metal dental filling that had been removed. Once she addressed that issue and worked on her mental health as well, the difference was dramatic. She described it as a complete change in how she felt.

That part matters because it reminds us how often women are told to manage symptoms without ever getting to root causes. It also reminds us that physical and mental health are deeply connected. Anxiety can worsen digestive distress. Ongoing illness can worsen anxiety. The loop goes both ways.

How did a high-pressure Wall Street career turn into a public platform?

As Cameron started cooking more for health reasons, she began sharing recipes online. At first, she kept it focused on food and stayed mostly anonymous. The account was a creative outlet while she continued working in finance. But over time she realized her curiosity and energy were flowing toward wellness, storytelling, and connection, not the career path she was on.

Then life interrupted in a big way. She was hit by a car while crossing the street on her way to a yoga class. She had done everything right, had the signal, paid attention, and still ended up with a concussion. That moment shook loose a belief many of us cling to, which is that if we are careful enough and perform life correctly enough, we can control outcomes.

During recovery, she was forced into stillness. No endless scrolling, no normal work rhythm, no pretending she could power through. She spent that time journaling, meditating, and facing a hard truth. Life is short, fragile, and unpredictable. When she returned to work, she resigned.

That decision did not come from fantasy. It came from a collision between physical injury, emotional burnout, and a growing awareness that she was spending her time in a way that made her miserable. She knew she had the privilege to take that leap, and she acknowledged it. But the deeper point is universal. Sometimes it takes a crisis to make us admit what we already know.

Pregnancy as a Reality Check

How did motherhood become the center of the content?

Once Cameron left finance and began showing more of herself online, the content naturally evolved. She started talking openly about anxiety and depression. Then she got pregnant, and that changed everything again.

She had expected to enjoy pregnancy. Instead, she felt blindsided by how strange and unfamiliar her body felt. Rather than smoothing it over, she leaned into the absurdity and confusion of it. She talked about the things people do not always warn us about, like body hair changes, veins suddenly appearing across the chest, new smells, and the general feeling that your body is doing bizarre things without your consent.

That honesty matters. So much of pregnancy content gets filtered through idealized expectations. Real bodies do not behave like neat announcement photos. Real pregnancies can be uncomfortable, humbling, and weird. When we name those truths, we make room for people to feel less alone.

Why is unfiltered pregnancy and postpartum conversation so important?

Because silence creates shame. When we only show the glowing parts, anyone struggling starts to assume they are the exception. Cameron’s style of communication cuts right through that. She names the awkward details, the emotional swings, and the parts that do not match the glossy narrative. That creates relief.

It is the same reason honest resources on childbirth and postpartum recovery matter so much. The more realistic the conversation is, the easier it becomes to recognize what is common, what is concerning, and when extra support is needed.

Postpartum Depression Is Not Always What We Think

Did postpartum depression show up immediately after birth?

No, and this is one of the most important parts of the conversation. Cameron said she used to think postpartum depression meant an instant emotional disconnection the moment a baby is born. She assumed it would look like immediate sadness or failure to bond. That can happen for some people, but it is far from the only version.

She felt connected to her baby. She could feel love. She could function. In many ways, her little family felt wrapped up in a cocoon. But underneath that connection was profound anxiety, especially because her first postpartum period happened during COVID. The atmosphere was full of fear, restrictions, uncertainty, and constant concern about exposure. Every visit carried tension. Every person leaving the house could become a source of spiraling worry later.

That distinction is crucial. A parent can adore their baby and still be mentally unwell. Love does not cancel anxiety. Bonding does not eliminate depression. This is one reason postpartum mental health is often missed.

What did intrusive thoughts feel like?

She described them as vivid mental scenes, not desires. That difference matters enormously. These thoughts were not wishes. They were terrifying images her brain kept generating, convincing her that something awful was about to happen to her baby.

She might imagine her baby somehow trapped in bedding despite safe sleep practices. She might panic while carrying him through a doorway, suddenly convinced she would hit his head. She might picture dropping him or harming him accidentally in normal daily life. The thoughts came with fear, not intent.

That is what makes intrusive thoughts so distressing. They are ego-dystonic, meaning they clash with the person’s actual values and desires. The parent is horrified by them. But if someone has never heard this explained, they may assume having the thought means they are dangerous or broken, which makes them less likely to speak up.

This is why accessible information about postpartum depression and related mental health symptoms is so important. Many people know to look for sadness. Fewer know to look for racing fear, obsessive worry, and intrusive mental images.

Did the postpartum depression begin right away?

Not exactly. The intrusive thoughts and anxiety came first. The depression became more obvious later, around four months postpartum. That timing confused her because she had already mentally filed away the idea that the hardest phase should have passed. She was no longer in the so-called fourth trimester, so why was she falling apart then?

That delayed onset is another thing that deserves more attention. Postpartum depression does not work on a tidy timeline. The standard six-week checkup can create a false sense that once we have crossed that milestone, we are done being monitored. But recovery from pregnancy, birth, sleep disruption, hormonal shifts, identity change, and caregiving stress cannot be wrapped up in one brief visit.

Many women do not crash immediately. Sometimes the adrenaline gets them through the beginning. Sometimes support fades after the first few weeks. Sometimes cumulative sleep deprivation catches up later. Sometimes hormones settle in ways that make symptoms more visible months after delivery.

What Helped During Postpartum Depression

What tools actually helped?

Cameron was refreshingly direct about this. There was no magic fix. It was a combination of support, treatment, self-awareness, and time.

Medication was a major part of her care. She had already been taking medication for anxiety and depression before pregnancy, though she had to change what she was on during that transition. She stayed medicated through pregnancy and postpartum under medical guidance. She was clear that medication did not erase anxiety from her life. It made it manageable. That is an important distinction. The goal is not to become emotionless. The goal is to reduce suffering and regain function.

She also emphasized weekly talk therapy. Long-term therapy gave her continuity. She had a clinician who knew her life, her history, her patterns, and the people around her. That kind of relationship can be incredibly grounding in postpartum, when everything else feels unstable.

Journaling helped too. So did meditation, especially during periods when she could practice it more consistently. And then there were the very human, everyday things that restore a sense of self: time with friends, boundaries around social media, reading for pleasure, and creating small rituals that help the brain and body shift out of survival mode.

Her nighttime routine was especially relatable. After the children were down and the house was reset, she created a transition into her own decompression time. That kind of ritual may seem small, but when your entire day is structured around other people’s needs, even a short repeatable act of care can become psychologically protective.

What should we understand about psychiatric medication in this context?

The conversation treated medication with the practicality it deserves. If someone had a broken leg, we would not shame them for using crutches. If someone had diabetes, we would not frame insulin as weakness. Mental health treatment should be approached with the same basic common sense.

Medication is not a moral failure. It is not a sign that someone did motherhood incorrectly. For some people, it is a temporary support. For others, it is part of long-term stability. What matters is that treatment is individualized and supervised appropriately.

The stigma around medication can be especially strong during pregnancy and postpartum, when women feel pressure to endure discomfort for the sake of appearing strong, natural, or selfless. But unmanaged anxiety and depression carry their own costs. Nuanced medical conversations matter more than ideology here.

Was time really part of the healing?

Yes, and she said that with some frustration because it is not the answer anyone wants when they are suffering. But it is often true. Some phases of postpartum mental health do improve as hormones settle, sleep changes, confidence grows, and the intensity of newborn life eases.

That does not mean we should wait passively or avoid treatment. It means we should remember that a terrible season is not necessarily a permanent identity. When someone is deep in postpartum depression, the feeling of forever is one of the cruelest symptoms. It can seem impossible that joy, steadiness, or normalcy will return. Hearing that the state is temporary can matter enormously.

Why Sharing Helps

Why be so open about mental health publicly?

Because when Cameron started admitting what she was going through, she realized how many people around her were dealing with something similar. That was true before children, when she felt lonely and miserable despite having a life that looked successful from the outside. And it remained true after children, when she started talking about postpartum mental health.

The internet can be brutal, but it can also be connective when used well. Her approach is not oversharing every detail. It is thoughtful openness. She keeps boundaries, especially when other people in her life did not choose a public platform. But within those boundaries, she uses honesty to dismantle the illusion that everyone else is coping perfectly.

Mental health does not discriminate. People can be deeply loved, financially secure, professionally successful, and still suffer. We have seen this in families, friendships, and public life over and over again. A polished exterior tells us very little about internal reality.

The Social Media Problem We Need to Talk About

How does social media affect mental health, especially for kids?

This part of the conversation widened from postpartum to a broader concern about the digital world children are growing up in. Cameron reflected on her own adolescence, when social media was just beginning to shape social life. Even then, photos posted after a party or sleepover could make someone feel excluded.

Now that pain can happen in real time. A child does not just hear about being left out later. She may sit at home and watch the group activity unfold minute by minute, complete with dances, jokes, inside references, and visible proof that she was not included. That kind of exposure can be crushing for a developing brain.

It is not always malicious. Sometimes kids are simply posting their lives. But impact matters more than intent. Repeated exposure to curated belonging and visible exclusion can shape self-worth, anxiety, and social comparison in ways young people are not equipped to manage.

Adults are not immune either. Even when someone is transparent online, we are still seeing an edited slice. Cameron noted that even while she is candid, there are hard things she chooses not to discuss publicly. That means anyone consuming her content could still assume she has it all together. The lesson is simple and easy to forget: we never have the full picture.

That is part of why practical boundaries with screens can be so valuable. The same goes for protecting sleep, which is one of the first things motherhood disrupts and one of the strongest foundations of emotional regulation. If that is an area we are struggling with, guidance on getting a good night’s sleep can be surprisingly relevant to mental health recovery.

What New Mothers Actually Need

What is the most important advice for postpartum women?

Cameron’s answer was immediate. Build a village. Protect it. Use it.

She is fortunate to have family members who want to be involved, including parents, in-laws, and sisters. She knows not everyone has that setup, but the principle still stands. Postpartum is not a time for isolation. It is a time for support, practical help, and emotionally safe spaces.

That village can include family, friends, neighbors, therapists, psychiatrists, doulas, parent groups, classes, and online communities that are genuinely supportive. The exact shape may differ, but the need is universal.

She also raised an important secondary point. Once we go through postpartum ourselves, many of us realize we did not fully understand what our friends were living through when they had babies before us. That realization can become a gift if we let it. We can show up better for the next person.

Sometimes support is practical. Bring food. Hold the baby while someone showers. Fold laundry. Cover a night shift if possible. Sometimes support is relational. Ask honest questions and stay for the real answer. Make room for complicated feelings. Do not rush to reassure. Listen.

For some families, community-based support can make an enormous difference. Even something as simple as regular walks with other new moms can reduce isolation and create a place where honesty feels normal. That is one reason efforts like support groups and walks for new moms resonate so strongly.

Why is talking out loud so important?

Because thoughts become more frightening when they stay trapped in our own head. Cameron spoke very clearly about this. When we keep intrusive thoughts or postpartum fears secret, we start believing we are the only one having them. That isolation adds shame to suffering.

The moment we say something out loud to a safe person, the experience often changes. Another person can bring perspective. They can remind us we are not monsters. They can help us tell the difference between an intrusive thought and intent, between postpartum overwhelm and personal failure, between a difficult season and a hopeless future.

And, perhaps most importantly, other people often speak to us with more compassion than we speak to ourselves. In postpartum, borrowing someone else’s kinder voice can be life-giving.

Why the Second Postpartum Experience Was Different

Why did postpartum feel so much better the second time?

Cameron was careful not to make this sound like a formula, because there is no guaranteed way to prevent postpartum depression. But she did reflect on what seemed to help.

First, she had lived experience. She knew newborn intensity does not last forever. She knew sleepless nights eventually change. She knew she would feel like herself again because she had already made it through once before. That confidence matters more than we often realize.

Interestingly, her first baby was in many ways easier. He slept beautifully and was calm. Yet her mental health suffered badly. Her second baby was much more challenging, with more sleep disruption and more day-to-day chaos. Yet she did better emotionally. That contrast underlines a key truth: postpartum mental health is not simply a measure of how easy the baby is.

Second, she had tools already in place. Therapy, medication, insight, and self-awareness were not new. She did not have to build a support plan from scratch while already struggling.

Third, she had more help. She mentioned hiring a night doula several nights a week, which allowed her to get reliable sleep. She was very clear that this was a privilege. But she was equally clear about its benefit. Sleep can transform postpartum functioning. If a family has the means to purchase sleep support, meal support, or practical care, that investment can be profound.

Finally, a second child forced some surrender. With the first baby, she was intensely structured and tried to control everything. The second child disrupted that instinct. In a strange way, that may have helped. She had less space for perfectionism and more practice tolerating unpredictability.

Motherhood, Humor, and the Long View

How do we hold onto perspective when the early years feel endless?

The conversation shifts beautifully here from mental health to the comedy and tenderness of family life. There are stories about toddlers trying to negotiate their way into the parents’ bed, children making unexpectedly philosophical comments, and the strange whiplash of parenting where the days drag and the years disappear.

That long view matters. When we are in the trenches of sleep deprivation, feeding schedules, and relentless logistics, it can feel like this is life now, full stop. But older parents often remind us that these phases move quickly. Children become more articulate, more independent, more hilarious, and more themselves. That does not erase the hard parts, but it does offer hope.

Cameron’s humor is part of what makes her voice so effective here. She is not romanticizing the chaos. She is not pretending a kicking toddler in bed is charming when everyone needs sleep. But she is also not losing sight of the fact that these years are full of absurd, tender moments that later become family lore.

Protecting the Partnership After Kids

What happens to a marriage or partnership in all of this?

One of the final themes is something many parents know but struggle to act on. Children can absorb every ounce of energy if we let them. If that happens long enough, the relationship between the adults can begin to thin out.

The advice here was straightforward. Make time for each other. Date nights matter. Trips without the children can matter. Time alone as a couple matters. If we do not tend to the relationship while raising kids, we risk arriving at the next life stage emotionally disconnected from the person beside us.

This is not about putting a spouse above a child’s needs in some rigid hierarchy. It is about recognizing that family stability depends in part on the health of the adult relationship. Intimacy, friendship, play, and attention do not maintain themselves automatically once children arrive.

And like everything else discussed here, this does not have to be perfect. It just has to be intentional.

What We Want to Carry Forward

If we had to boil this conversation down, what stays with us most?

Probably this: motherhood can be beautiful and brutal, grounding and destabilizing, hilarious and terrifying. None of those truths cancel the others. The more honest we are about the full range, the easier it becomes for women to get help earlier and judge themselves less harshly.

Postpartum depression is not always immediate and it is not always obvious. Intrusive thoughts are more common than many people realize, and having them does not mean someone wants to cause harm. Support systems are not optional luxuries. They are protective. Therapy and medication can be life-changing. Sleep is not trivial. Social media can distort reality for adults and deeply wound kids. And relationships need care too.

Most of all, we need to keep talking. Not performatively. Not for the sake of content. But honestly enough that the next mother in the dark realizes she is not the only one there.

FAQs

Can postpartum depression start months after birth?

Yes. It does not always begin immediately after delivery. In this conversation, postpartum depression became more obvious several months after birth, which is one reason it can be missed if everyone assumes the risk ends after the early postpartum period.

Are intrusive thoughts the same as wanting to hurt a baby?

No. Intrusive thoughts are unwanted, distressing mental images or fears. They are upsetting precisely because they conflict with what the parent wants. A person having them is often frightened by them and may need support and treatment, not shame.

Can someone love their baby and still have postpartum depression?

Absolutely. Bonding with a baby does not rule out postpartum depression or postpartum anxiety. Someone may feel deep love and still be struggling significantly with fear, intrusive thoughts, low mood, or emotional overwhelm.

What kinds of support help most during postpartum?

Helpful support can include therapy, medication when appropriate, practical help at home, sleep support, family or friends who show up consistently, parent groups, and honest conversations with safe people. A strong village makes a real difference.

Why did the second postpartum experience feel easier despite a harder baby?

Several factors may have helped, including previous experience, stronger confidence, already having mental health tools in place, more support, and a clearer understanding that difficult newborn phases do pass.

How can social media make mental health worse for parents and children?

Social media can amplify comparison, create the illusion that everyone else is coping better, and make exclusion feel immediate and public. For kids especially, seeing social experiences unfold in real time can intensify loneliness and anxiety.

This article was created from the video Postpartum Depression, Intrusive Thoughts, & Needing Support Systems w/ Cameron Rogers | SHE MD for Dr. Thais Aliabadi’s website.