Navigating motherhood with borderline personality disorder: How pregabalin helped me cope

Topics mentioned: pregabalin, borderline personality disorder, pregnancy and postpartum

About: Abigail shares her experience of becoming a mother with borderline personality disorder (BPD), and how pregabalin helped calm her nervous system during pregnancy and postpartum life.

Having my baby was, without a doubt, one of the most remarkable experiences of my life. I don’t think I’ll ever quite get over how incredible it is that we, as women, can grow an entire human. It still blows my tiny little mind.

But having borderline personality disorder (BPD) while growing, birthing, and learning to care for that tiny human did not come easily. I was struggling, really struggling, and I was absolutely terrified that my struggle meant I was going backwards.

Before becoming a mum, I had worked relentlessly on my mental health for four years. In 2022, after a breakdown, I finally received the right diagnosis and the right support. It was confronting, but also hugely validating. For the first time in my life, things made sense. I wasn’t just a ‘bad’ or ‘broken’ person.

With time, the right medication, my husband’s loving support, therapy, hard work, and consistency, I came a long way. My episodes reduced from multiple a day, every day, to once every two or three months (sometimes even four or five), and that felt like a huge win – something I was, and still am, deeply proud of. Something I once upon a time did not believe was possible.

I wasn’t “fixed,” but I felt stable, the most stable I’d ever been in my entire life. I felt in control. I felt capable. But more importantly, I felt something I never thought I would: hope. Hopeful that one day I could thank BPD for the quiet superpowers it gave me, and gently wave goodbye to it for the foreseeable future. I truly believed I had built a solid foundation for the life I was about to step into. I believed that I was ready to be a mother and that I would be a really, really good one.

Then that time came. I became a mum, and everything changed.

On reflection, since taking pregabalin, I can see that motherhood didn’t undo the work I’d done (despite the fear inside me insisting that it had), but it stretched me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The emotional, hormonal, and nervous system demands of the postpartum period, alongside a difficult pregnancy, physical limitations from a compressed nerve, a DVT, and a C-section – all while living with BPD – pushed me far beyond the coping strategies that had once felt easy and reliable.

I knew I needed extra support, not because I had failed, but because my world had changed overnight and the tools I’d spent years collecting suddenly felt unreachable. It was like my toolbox had been tipped upside down in the dark – technically everything was still there, but it was jumbled, scattered, and impossible to find when I needed it most. Which, in hindsight, is probably something I should start getting used to… because in a few months’ time, when my baby starts crawling, I’m fairly sure he’ll be enthusiastically tipping everything in my life upside down anyway.

I felt like I was failing at motherhood. I felt like I was losing myself, losing touch with reality. I felt scared and on edge all the time. My nervous system was completely overloaded. I was suffering from dissociation, the shakes, panic attacks, blurred vision, shoulder and chest pain, and nothing seemed to calm it.

I knew relying on short-term medication every day wasn’t a long-term solution. I was actively working through everything in therapy, but I was advised that, in the meantime, it would be wise to speak with my psychiatrist to see whether there was a more suitable option – something that could help bring my nervous system back down to baseline while I continued to do the deeper work. So I reached out for help.

And that’s when pregabalin was prescribed to me.

I’d never taken pregabalin before. I was nervous, I’d had difficult experiences trialling new medications in the past, but I was also desperate to feel better. So in a strange way, I felt a little excited too.

When I first started taking it, I felt awful. The instructions on the box were unclear, and I didn’t fully understand how it would interact with the medication I was already taking. That first evening, the combined sedative effects were so intense. I felt what I can only describe as really, really drunk. My vision was blurry, my limbs felt heavy, I couldn’t walk in a straight line, I couldn’t keep my eyes open… I felt horrible. It was like I had no control over my body. The following morning, I woke up feeling groggy and unwell, and I told my husband that if I was going to feel like this every day, it wasn’t the medication for me. I couldn’t live like that, and I certainly couldn’t safely care for our baby feeling so sedated.

Through my own research, I came to understand that pregabalin works by calming an overactive nervous system, which can also lead to deeper, more restorative sleep. In my case, when combined with my other daily medication that also has sedative effects, it was causing excessive sedation. I found waking up much harder, my head felt heavy and foggy, I experienced headaches, and it took me a long time to properly come around each morning.

I’d experienced something similar with my long-term medication in the past, and over time I’d learned how to work around its sedative effects by adjusting routines and timings. So I knew I needed to take the same approach here. I researched how the medications interacted, paid attention to how my body responded, and gradually found a rhythm that worked for me.

Now, three weeks into taking pregabalin, I can honestly say I’m incredibly happy with how I’m feeling on it.

Beyond that initial adjustment period, I’ve been surprised by how gentle pregabalin has been for me. Before, I’d worried about things like feeling cognitively slowed, gaining weight, experiencing hallucinations, or having severe allergic reactions, but thankfully that hasn’t been my experience. I haven’t noticed problems with memory or concentration, and I don’t feel dulled or muted. If anything, as my nervous system settled, I felt clearer, steadier, and more able to engage with the world around me, including being present with my baby.

What helped me most, though, was continuing the work alongside the medication. Therapy, honesty with my husband, rest, and self-compassion all mattered. Pregabalin didn’t “fix” everything and I didn’t expect it to, but it gave me enough headspace and energy to actually show up for the work I was already doing. That part really mattered to me.

Looking back, there are a few things I wish I’d known before starting pregabalin, and this is what I’d say to anyone who might be considering it. Like many medications, it needs an adjustment window. Your body may take time to settle, so patience really matters before deciding whether it’s right for you.

If you take other medications, ask questions early about how they interact. Advocate for clarity. Don’t be afraid to slow things down and listen to your body. And if you have a baby, make sure you have another responsible adult supporting you while your body adjusts. Coordination, energy levels, and sleep can all be affected at first, and having help during that time isn’t about weakness, it’s about safety. That awareness in itself is wisdom.

Most importantly, please know this: needing extra support does not erase the progress you’ve already made. Healing is about balance. Some days you gain ground, other days you rest and both are still progress. It doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It means you’re responding to a season of intense change with honesty and courage. Getting help, no matter how many times you’ve had to do so, isn’t failure. It’s bravery. It’s resilience. It’s badass. I wish I’d listened to my own advice at the time – hindsight really is a funny thing, isn’t it?

This was my experience taking pregabalin. I hope it’s been honest, grounding, and reassuring, and that if you’re reading this while struggling, it reminds you that you’re not broken, you’re not weak, and you’re not alone.