Twenty-five years ago, a young Australian mother known to her loved ones as "Gidget" died by suicide, leaving behind her husband and their nine-month-old daughter. She had shown no outward signs of distress to those closest to her — and that devastating silence would go on to reshape the way Australia understands and responds to perinatal depression and anxiety.

A life that looked complete from the outside

To everyone around her, Gidget — a nickname drawn from a beloved television character she so closely resembled — appeared to be living a full and happy life. She had married the person she loved, built a beautiful home, and after a long and difficult journey to conceive, had finally welcomed the daughter she had longed for.

Yet beneath that picture, she was quietly struggling. Her caring nature and perfectionist tendencies are now believed to have contributed to her inability to speak openly about what she was going through. Even her mother, who spoke with her almost every day and shared in nearly every aspect of her life, had no idea of the depth of her daughter's distress. There was, it seems, one thing Gidget simply could not bring herself to say.

A nation that wasn't ready to talk about perinatal depression

At the time of her death, the cultural climate made her silence easier to understand — if no less tragic. Twenty-five years ago, mental health conversations were uncommon in Australia, and awareness of perinatal depression and anxiety (PNDA) was even more limited. Motherhood was largely viewed through a romanticised lens: the baby was celebrated, but no one thought to ask how the mother was really coping.

Exhaustion, intrusive thoughts, anxiety and despair were routinely dismissed as normal parts of adjusting to parenthood. Women were expected to be grateful and to push through, while many suffered privately, fearful that speaking up would see them labelled a bad mother. Specialised support was scarce, and healthcare professionals were often no better informed than the general public.

For too many families, the struggle remained invisible until it became a crisis.

From grief to a national organisation

What began as a small gathering of Gidget's sisters and close friends — coming together in shared grief to make sense of her death — has since grown into Gidget Foundation Australia, a national organisation now providing perinatal mental health support to thousands of Australians every year.

As the foundation's first president, Libby Bowditch has witnessed significant progress over the past quarter-century, both within the organisation and across broader society. From the outset, the foundation's goal was not only to provide practical support for parents experiencing perinatal mental health challenges, but to drag the issue into public conversation — to create a culture where parents felt safe to speak honestly about their struggles, and where asking for help was understood as a sign of strength rather than failure.

"It was important that the silence that surrounds PNDA be broken," Bowditch has reflected, noting that greater awareness makes it more likely that parents will recognise their own symptoms, that healthcare professionals will be better equipped, and that seeking support will become genuinely normalised.

Progress made — but too many still suffering in silence

While public awareness of PNDA has improved markedly since Gidget's death, the foundation's own research suggests significant gaps remain. Forty-one per cent of parents report frequently feeling they are not "good enough," and one in three believe their symptoms are not severe enough to warrant seeking professional help.

Those figures point to a persistent stigma — the same quiet shame that kept Gidget from reaching out a quarter of a century ago. The foundation she inspired continues to work to ensure that no other family has to experience the same devastating loss born of silence.

If you or someone you know is struggling, contact Lifeline on 13 11 14 or the PANDA helpline on 1300 726 306.