Postnatal Depression My Experience

Yesterday I watched a Vlog by Naomi over at Seven Cherubs about her experience with Postnatal Depression. 

It made me think. It is something that effects up to 1 in 10 of women during pregnancy and rises to 1 in seven  in the months following the birth.  It is something that many women do not talk about as they feel a sense of failure as a mother. Postnatal Depression Awareness Week is about encouraging women to talk about their experiences of something that usually is suffered in silence and to end the stigma that is attached.

So I thought that I too would share my experience with postnatal and antenatal depression. I have been as honest and open as possible because you can not tell someone that it is OK if you can not be open and honest about your experience. I will start by saying not everyone wants to harm their child when they suffer from postnatal depression some feel the opposite way ( as was the case for me) I felt as though I had to protect my children from people trying to kidnap them or just 'take them away' from me. I know one woman who was waiting for her child's 'real' parents to collect him for many months, it effects people differently. There is NO shame in it and just telling someone can ease the suffering incredibly.

During my pregnancy with Little Miss (11 in January) I suffered from antenatal depression, I was not aware of it, even when I found myself sitting on my front veranda, head in my hands with tears streaming down my face. I remember thinking it was strange and I had no idea how long I had been crying or why. The pregnancy was my third and unlike my first two I was sick every time I ate for four months, I would gag every time I smelt meat cooking, yet would only be able to eat steak and mashed potato for every meal. I came down with what I now think was whopping cough and I coughed uncontrollably for the rest of the pregnancy and until Little Miss was 6 months old, day and night.

 Like the pregnancy itself the labour was traumatic and I will just say anyone contemplating a drug free birth is either very stupid or brave. I will also say to husbands of labouring women DO NOT put your hands anywhere near the bed frame, if your partner can not have pain relief shaking the frame of the bed helps, if your hand is in the way... well, it will hurt, a lot... you might even get a tear or two in your eye! After stopping three times on the way into the world Little Miss said hello by biting my nipple and I had a cracked nipple ( eventually both) for the next 8 months. After the birth and the nipple biting episode I just laid there with this new baby feeling nothing other than tired and when I think back a little numb.

It was not until Little Miss was three months old that I realised I had Postnatal Depression. My beloved worked away for sometimes three weeks at a time. I think even if he had of been home every night I still would have suffered as severely as I did but maybe not for as long, as he would have noticed my not sleeping for sometimes as many as three days and nights in a row. I was so paranoid about my children being kidnapped that if I went to a room baby went with me even when she was sleeping she was either in the pram or in a sling. I didn't want anyone to visit and if someone did I would mutter 'Oh for god sake what are they doing here.' I'd even consider hiding!

 I had head aches every morning, the skull stabbing kind and they would kick in at 9ish and not leave until well after five. I had to force myself to send The Man Child and Biggest Miss to school because I realised that no one actually was planning on kidnapping them, it was just in my head, but I couldn't really take that chance and I could never really believe that they were safe. Every single day was an excruciating, lonely  and yet at the same time numb experience. I started to obsess over certain things being done, for me it  was the dishes and the clothes washing. I felt that IF I could just keep those two jobs always done then 'everything  would be OK'. Of course there were days when nothing was done and I'd just lie on the couch with Little Miss and just not move.

I trusted no one and I mean NO ONE. Not My Beloved, not my friends, not even my mother and certainly no one outside of the family, every one was trying to take my children off me as far as I was concerned. When I did leave the house, which was very rare I put on a cheerful smile and pretended to be 'normal', unless you have had to do that, you truly have no idea how exhausting that is. When I did speak to people I was on 'autopilot' When My Beloved came home I would promise myself that THIS time I would just say to him.

'Adam, I have Postnatal Depression. I need to see a doctor.' But even though I would go into the bathroom and look at my reflection in the mirror and would give myself a 'pep talk'

 'Emma, you have postnatal depression, it is in your head, no one wants to take your kids. Tell Adam to take you to a doctor!'  I never could, because I didn't trust him either!

 So for 18 months after Little Miss was born I battled on telling myself in those moments of panic that it was not real and I HAD to go to a doctor.  Biggest Miss became seriously ill and I was  convinced she was going to die but luckily the doctors gave her the 'silver bullet' and she was much better I will not go on with that as it was the most traumatic experience as a mother. So awfully scary.

Instead when he was home I could sleep and it was because I obviously felt that My Beloved would be able to deal with any attempted kidnappings. ( Yes It sounds so ridiculous doesn't it, but it was very, very real for me at the time) I remember very little of those 18 months, aside from a few scary paranoid moments and a panic attack I had in the shopping centre which I remember clearly as the idea that I did not have enough money for my trolley of groceries became so entrenched in my mind that I stopped in the middle of the isle staring at the trolley then the register and with my heart beating out of my chest, I swear it felt as though anyone looking at me could see my chest bulge with each beat. I fought off this almost uncontrollable urge to grab Little Miss out of the trolley and literally run screaming out of the shopping centre.

 I managed to get the groceries without any payment issues, though the whole time I fought off tears and was convinced my card would decline. I remember only saying over and over to myself  'Keep it together Emma, You have money in your card. This is just in your head. It is not real. You are just having a panic attack.' I had to stop myself running with my trolley to the car and if I had of been able to actually feel something other then fear and panic I would have cried uncontrollably and just collapsed in a heap.

 There was the time I found myself hanging out my washing in the rain at ONE THIRTY in the morning because if I just hung that out everything would be OK. I would have to force myself to sleep and it was only from pure exhaustion that I ever did. There are so many other moments like that I will not elaborate or you could be here for a very long time.

The moment I realised that I must get help and tell My beloved was when I had my younger sister staying not long after Biggest Miss was out of hospital and Little Miss was about 18 months. I was starting to go longer between these 'moments' of panic and was a little less paranoid about the children being kidnapped, besides Little Miss had discovered that holding her breath as a tantrum was very effective and I had suddenly found a new paranoid fear, choking ( choking children is the one thing that gets me very unsettled, very easily).

I was watching TV with my sister and Little Miss started to stir ( she was on my bed ) I got up straight away as I didn't want her to fall off. I brought her out into the lounge room and breast fed her I remembered seeing  tea spoon on the bench, it bugged me so much that when Little Miss had finished her food I put her comfortably on the big floor cushion and got up to put the spoon away ( remember everything would be OK if the dishes and washing was done.) As I did that I suddenly remembered Little Miss had been stirring in the bedroom and went in to get her, of course she was not there as I had just fed her, but I did not remember that AT ALL and I was immediately convinced that the reason she was not on my bed was because she had fallen off and had died. YES you read that right. There was no emotion about it, it was to my mind a fact, it had happened. When I walked around to find her on the floor and she was not there, or the other side of the bed ,I went in a split second, from being convinced she was dead to convinced she was kidnapped and I began shouting to my sister 'where is she, where is she?' As soon as my sister told me Little Miss was where I had put her on the floor cushion in the lounge room I remembered it and I sat down and cried and knew I had to get help.

As this is incredibly long I shall post a part two later this evening it will be from My beloved's point of view he feels that it is important for people to realise that men suffer in away from postnatal as well, through their partners experience with it. If you are reading this and recognise yourself, a friend or partner do not delay ask for help you do not need to suffer on your own in fact I PROMISE YOU it will be so much better when you let someone know! There is no shame in it I do not feel bad for having experienced this I feel stronger because I managed to survive something I would not wish on anyone, ever! You are not alone! Talk to anyone but definitely see your doctor. Go to  BeyondBlue for more information.

Feel free to share your experience in the comments or with your friends lets get rid of the stigma and feelings of failure and weakness for those that suffer from it and those that do not.

'Suck it up princess' really only applies to kicking your little toe or bumping your funny bone it does not apply to PND