For most mothers, pregnancy is often a journey of eager anticipation, one that eventually ends with the sharp yelps of a newborn.
When, in 2017, Anne Ogunyomi became pregnant with her first child, Nothing prepared her for the post-delivery trauma that would confront her. She had attended every antenatal class and followed every medical instruction. “You want to be careful; it’s your first time,” she said.
However, her delivery day turned out to be something of a near-death experience. “I was literally leaving,” she recalled of her experience that day.
While her parents celebrated the arrival of their grandchild, Ogunyomi nursed the pain of being stitched, and the medical emergency that followed left her drifting in and out of consciousness.
After she regained consciousness and was handed her baby, she seemed bereft of joy. “Everyone was excited,” she said. “But I felt absolutely nothing. No bubbles, no butterflies, no emotion.”
Discovering postpartum depression
In the following weeks, an inexplicable sadness overwhelmed her, bringing her to tears often. She couldn’t trace her feeling to anything exact, though.
So she combed mothers’ forums on Facebook and Instagram, trying to match her symptoms with someone else’s. “I just wanted to know what the problem was,” she said.
In time she came across the term “postpartum depression.” She came upon stories from mothers from many different climes who reported the same problem.
Her research revealed that the system was flawed. None of her antenatal classes had addressed postpartum depression or the emotional changes that a new mother might face.
Her research into the disease eventually kickstarted the work she leads today through the Postpartum Support Foundation and LavenderCare—two platforms she built to close Nigeria’s widening maternal-mental-health gap and provide care to mothers affected with postpartum depression.
Globally, postpartum depression affects 1 in 7 women. Around 20% of new mothers in low- and middle-income countries experience significant mental-health challenges after childbirth.
In Nigeria, postpartum depression is far more common than most believe. In Lagos, recent research indicates rates may be as high as 35.6%. Most cases go undiagnosed because of stigma, cultural silence or inadequate screening.
The shame, the fear of being labelled “ungrateful,” and the cultural belief that motherhood should come with automatic joy have kept women quiet. And that silence, she felt, was dangerous.
Turning pain into purpose
Ogunyomi, who has a degree in Communication and Language Arts, never imagined treading a path in maternal mental health.
To deepen her passion, she trained as a birth and postpartum doula, a role focused on educating, guiding and emotionally supporting mothers and their families. Although the programme covered both birth and postpartum care, her interest remained firmly in the postpartum period.
In 2018, Ogunyomi began the Postpartum Support Foundation to ramp up awareness and support for vulnerable mothers. It offered community outreaches and support systems for women experiencing postpartum depression and anxiety.
By 2024, she had earned certifications in many areas, including breastfeeding education and childbirth education, combining research, personal experience, and clinical training to meaningfully support the women she serves.
However, Ogunyomi and her team realised a deeper gap: awareness was not enough. Many women needed structured counselling, guided interventions, real-time help and culturally grounded solutions that fit the Nigerian context.
Technology meets maternal mental health
This epiphany led to the birth of LavenderCare in 2023, a platform that leverages technology to offer holistic, accessible postpartum support.
The name derives from the lavender plant. “Every part of the lavender is useful, but apart from being useful, it is beneficial. It has healing properties,” she remarked.
LavenderCare became her response to the inadequacies she saw in the system: the absence of digital screening tools, limited mental health access for new mothers and the lack of homegrown resources for Nigerian communities.
Through the app, mothers can schedule mental-health assessments, connect with trained counsellors, join support groups and receive personalised guidance without exposing their data.
It used simple screening tools validated by global-health standards, ensuring women could identify symptoms early. It also offered follow-up pathways, connecting mothers to professionals and peer networks.
Since its inception, LavenderCare has garnered a slew of testimonials: mothers who reported that their marriages had been saved, women who admitted they had abandoned suicidal thoughts, families who finally understood what their loved ones were going through. Each message pointed to the growing progress of her advocacy.
“Sometimes,” she said in one conversation, “success is when a mother writes that she slept well for the first time in weeks. That is impact for me.”
To measure her reach, Ogunyomi focuses on the number of screened mothers, the volume of counselling sessions, feedback reports from partner communities and the growing participation of families.
Her work now spans across states, engaging health workers, midwives, and digital communities to widen awareness and sharpen response structures.
Looking ahead, she envisions a future where postpartum mental health becomes a standard part of maternal care in Nigeria. She hopes to build a dedicated postpartum health centre, a physical hub where women can receive mental, emotional, and psychological support before and after childbirth.
Even as awareness rises, the stigma lingers. Many Nigerian communities still attribute postpartum depression to spiritual causes or personal weakness, and the lack of national policy focus leaves a wide gap.
But, with more women starting to speak up and more families becoming educated, progress is underway.
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