My story

Its mental health awareness week so now seems like a good time to finally launch my blog. I battled with post natal depression for over 3 years and this is my story.

After almost a year of trying for a baby, we eventually fell pregnant and couldn't more excited, happier and hopeful for our future as a family. While many of my friends who were pregnant at the same time suffered terribly with morning sickness, I had an easy pregnancy and enjoyed pretty much the whole 9 (10!) months. My husband said he'd never seen me so happy and I truly felt it. Pregnancy brought out the best in me - I loved being taken care of, growing a new life inside me and feeling like I had a purpose in life. Being a half glass empty kind of person, I secretly worried that I would be susceptible to the 'baby blues' but I had always been maternal and good with kids so my over-riding feeling was that I'd be ok. I could do this!

My labour was exhausting as it lasted 3 days. From the start of my contractions on a Friday evening to the time my son was born on a Monday morning, I'd been in and out of hospital twice, had numerous pain relieving drugs, been awake for almost 72 hours and had various instruments of torture inflicted upon me! None of this was in my water birth plan but it was all worth it in the end when my beautiful son eventually emerged in fine healthy form....with a scrunched up red face and the loudest scream I'd ever heard!

I imagine birth is a traumatic experience for a baby (thank god none of us can actually remember it!) and his certainly had been eventful. Little wonder he came out screaming really. Unfortunately he continued screaming for the first 6 months of his life and this was, I believe, the main trigger for my depression.

The books and internet all tell you that, as a mother, you'll quickly learn to interpret your baby's cries and, as their needs are pretty simple (tired, hungry, wet/ dirty nappy, need a cuddle) they'll stop crying once you meet them. Bullshit! What if they're crying for none of the above reasons but there's something seriously wrong that you can't see? Or if they're frustrated because Mummy isn't making everything better? Or if they're just upset at being forced to live in the outside world after 9 (10!) long months of warmth and protection in your tummy??

I tried to tell myself the crying wasn't as bad as I thought and I was being over-sensitive due to lack of sleep. No one else seemed to be worried so maybe this was normal?? I tried to convince myself that everything would be better if I could only get some rest but I was breastfeeding every 3 hours for up to an hour and he screamed as soon as I took him off the breast - as well as screaming when he was falling asleep and the second he woke up. Surely this couldn't be normal?!

Attempting to pull myself together, I sought professional advice from my health visitor and personal advice from my family as my rational self was telling me there must be something wrong with my child for him to be crying so much for no apparent reason. Everyone firmly reassured me there was nothing wrong with him and he was a normal baby. If this was true, the only logical conclusion I could come to was that there must be something wrong with me and I was an unfit mummy. I felt like a complete failure and was consumed with sadness, anger and frustration. And tears that just wouldn't stop.

I was sad that motherhood wasn't anything like I'd imagined but most of all I was angry and scared. I was angry with my baby and I was angry with myself. The strength of my feelings scared the shit out of me and I was afraid I would hurt my baby. I wanted someone to take him away from me. I wanted to leave his pushchair in the street and walk away because I couldn't bear the sight of him and how he made me feel. Or how I made him feel. I wish I'd never had him. I wanted to put him up for adoption. I didn't deserve him and he certainly didn't deserve me as a mother, poor thing. I didn't feel any love for him and didn't think I ever would. I definitely wasn't fit to be a mother and I knew it. I'm crying as I write this.

My husband was supportive but work and his commute meant we barely saw him and our only time together was at the end of each long, fraught day when I was at my worst or early in the morning when I often begged him not to go to work. I was resentful that he got to spend the day with adults and continue his life almost as before. He didn't understand what I was experiencing and couldn't understand why it was affecting me so much. I started to pick fights at 4am because I was sick of getting up to breastfeed or deal with the crying while my husband slept peacefully.

After several long months of hell - arguments, a rollercoaster of emotions and little or useless help from anyone - I went to see my doctor. I didn't think he could do anything for me other than give me anti-depressants (which I didn't want) but I thought I could at least try once again to see if there was something causing my son to be so upset - other than having me as a mother! The doctor thought he might have acid or silent reflux (we'd previously tried every colic medicine under the sun) which would explain why he screamed after being fed as he was in pain. Also why he wasn't feeding very well and that he was probably upset the rest of the time because he was still hungry. The medicine worked wonders, the crying abated and my baby seemed more content. If only I could sort my happiness out, everything would be ok!

Easier said than done. I still wasn't able to shake my feelings of despair and unhappiness and I constantly flip-flopped between being sad and angry. One minute I wanted to run away from it all and cry alone in a dark room for days and the next I wanted to shout and punch everyone around me. I didn't want to talk to anyone about how I felt as I didn't want to admit most of it to myself, let alone anyone else. I started drinking to try and block out my feelings. I couldn't seem to pull myself together and didn't understand why. So I drank some more and I cried some more and I sank further into a state of depression.

Eventually a good friend urged me to go and see my doctor again but this time about me. I broke down in the doctor's surgery. My doctor was amazing but it was so hard to fully admit how I felt because I didn't want him to know what an unfit mother I was. He diagnosed me with postnatal depression and suggested I try anti-depressants but more importantly counselling as I clearly needed someone to talk to.

The anti depressants didn't seem to make much difference and I found it hard to open up in counselling but it still felt like I was making progress. Very slow progress. By that point, my sadness, self hatred and anger were so deep rooted that I didn't know how to express myself without falling apart. And I was desperately trying to hold it together (whilst drinking myself into numbness and crying myself to sleep). I had overpowering feelings of resentment towards those closest to me - my child for my failure as a mummy, my husband for not understanding and my family for not listening or supporting me in a way I needed. I blamed everyone but most of all I blamed myself.

Two years and many counselling sessions later made a huge difference in helping me understand my feelings but I don't think I'll ever come to terms with, or get over, my experience. My son is now 4 years old and I adore him but I still find it hard to control my feelings of anger and often lose it with him when he pushes me over the edge. When I'm feeling low, I can't help but dwell on the dark times and berate myself for being an unfit mother. I live in constant fear that my depression could return at any time.

I'd like my story to have a happy ending though and intend this blog to be a positive step forward towards becoming a FIT mummy - both mentally and physically! I feel more in control than I have for a long time - so much so that I even feel like we could finally think about having a second child - which scares the crap out of me!!! This, to me, is the biggest indication that I'm finally over the worst of it. If we are lucky enough to have a second child, I hope and pray that it's an easier experience this time around and I can prove to myself that I'm fit to be a mummy. If the worst were to happen and I  get PND again, I'd like to think I'd at least recognise the signs before they completely take hold this time and seek help before it's too late. But who actually knows until it happens to you?! All I can say is that I know I'm not alone in this and thank god for the recognition and support that's out there :)