After I had my eldest son Samuel, I suffered with Post Natal Depression (PND). It started just a few weeks after Sam was born. At first I put it down to exhaustion, Sam had reflux and didn't sleep much at all. I also gave up breastfeeding at four weeks as Sam didn't take to it easily, the pain, the exhaustion, it all got too much. Looking back I think breastfeeding guilt was a big trigger of my depression.
When people think about depression they think it just makes people a bit 'sad' but it is so much more than that. For me the first 'symptom' I had was anxiety. It started with not wanting to go out alone with Sam. I would get an overwhelming feeling that everyone was watching me, that people were judging me and my parenting. If Sam cried while in his pram I would panic if I couldn't get him out immediately. I remember walking to my Mums house, and he started crying a few minutes from her house, I ran sobbing down the road. It came to a point where I was terrified to leave the flat alone. If someone walked too closely to the pram while I was out I would panic. At first I thought it was normal, that all Mums were over protective over their babies. I couldn't have post natal depression, women with post natal depression didn't want their babies, they tried to hurt their babies, I would never do that to Sam.
My health visitor came to visit, and as they do with all new Mum's she got me to answer some questions, it was a test for PND. It came back that it was likely that I was suffering 'baby blues' that may or may not be down to PND. She booked me in at the sure start for a baby massage class, and said that talking to other Mums would help. I nodded and smiled, and said I was fine, and then never turned up for the class. Next time she came, I changed my answers to the questions, I told her what she wanted to hear.
By the time Sam was a few months old, the anxiety was getting worse I was even getting panic attacks when out with my husband Joe. I was irritable all the time, the slightest thing would set me off. Joe wanting to soothe Sam when he was crying was like torture. Hearing him scream and not being in my arms made me shake all over, it was like physical pain. It would send my body into panic, the logical part of me knew he was fine, that he was with his Daddy, but the logical part of me was buried underneath the 'other' part of me. I would try and prise him from Joes arms, screaming that I needed him back that he had to leave him alone. This understandably put a massive strain on our relationship. We had no alone time, even when Sam was asleep I would stay and watch him, I couldn't relax, my whole body was on edge all the time.
Joe has always worked nights, and while he was only working 3 nights a week, those nights were like hell for me. I would sit in bed, listening for every sound, convinced someone was going to break into the flat, that someone would get to Sams room before I would so I would stay awake all night. When Sam cried I would panic, because him crying meant that I couldn't hear anything, if I couldn't hear someone coming in how could I protect him? So I would rock him and beg him to please stop, but he would pick up on the tension and my panic and cry louder. Those were some of the darkest moments, the times where my desperate need to keep us safe could so easily have hurt us both. I would put my hand over his mouth and scream for him to just shut up. Even now, just typing those words is so hard. It makes me feel like such a failure as a parent, that I probably scared my son so much. I never wanted to hurt him, in my mind it was life or death, that other part of me was like an alarm in my head, screaming at me to shut him up before 'they' heard us. I still don't know who 'they' were, or why I was so scared.
Joe, during a row one day told me I needed to get help, that I needed to snap out of it. Even being so close to me and seeing how much my own mind was tearing me apart he still didn't understand why I couldn't just turn it off, be normal again. It's something many people don't understand, and I don't think until you have been through it you really know how it feels. He asked me to see a Doctor, but I refused, I didn't want to see a Doctor, if anyone knew what I'd done, how I felt, they'd take Sam away, I'd never see him again. Sounds ridiculous now but I was so sure he'd be taken into care.
It wasn't until weeks later, when Joe refused to give me Sam back, that I saw in his face how worried he was about what I'd do, that I realised just how bad things had gotten. I cried, I started to think that the only way to make things right were just to leave Sam with his Dad. That everyone would be better off if I was gone, really GONE. I told Joe about my intentions, that it would be better afterwards, that he was better off without me. He told me he loved me, I cried, he told me he needed me, that Sam needed me. I agreed to go to the Doctors. I didn't think it would make a difference, my mind was made up, I would go, they would tell me what I already knew that they would take Sam away, Joe would see that I was right, and then I'd do IT and Sam could be happy with his Daddy. But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't bare to be without Sam. I knew the only way would be for him to come with me. We'd be safe then, we'd be together. But I could never hurt him. It was then I realised, I needed help.
The day of my GP appointment arrived, as soon as I sat down I could hear Sam screaming in the waiting room, it sent me into blind panic, other than to use the bathroom that was the first time he had been in a different room to me where I couldn't just go back to him. My GP saw how uncomfortable I was and let me go and get him. He was amazing, he reassured me no one was going to take my baby away, that I wasn't well, but most importantly I wasn't going crazy. It wasn't how it was supposed to go. Why wasn't he prising Sam away from me? Why was he so calm. My husband came in with us, together we made new plans.
I started on anti-depressants, I made sure I wasn't alone with Sam for long periods and not long after that Sam started going to my Mum's or my Mother in laws one afternoon a week so I could spend quality time with Joe, we finally talked together for the first time in so long. I was still on edge the whole time I was away from Sam, but I had support, I could finally start to get back to being the person I was. We bought a dog, many of you know our pooch Taz. He gave me company during the long nights with my husband at work. He made me feel safe, even if I couldn't hear an intruder he would, he would save us.
Recovering from depression is a tough road, I had PND again after both my daughter and youngest son were born. Nowhere near as bad as after Sam, but then I knew the signs, and so did Joe and I wasn't afraid to get help.
Even now, I'm still not free of depression and anxiety. I have days where I don't want to talk to anyone, that I want to shut myself in a room and never come out. People think I don't like them, but often if I'm having a bad day I don't like myself either so don't take it personally. I have nights even now that the anxiety is so bad I just want to scream, I still panic when the kids cry at night if I'm home alone, but I have never been back to the darkest days.
I still have days where I convince myself no one likes me, I feel offended by things for no good reason, I snap at people when I don't mean too. I binge on chocolate, I cry for no reason. I will never be the person I was before PND.
Writing this post has been so hard. It's taken a long time to put into words how I felt, and still feel. But if one person suffering reads this, and gets help, or if one person reads this and no longer judges people with mental health issues, then the pain of reliving my own personal nightmare will have been worth it.
I want to thank my amazing husband, without whom, I wouldn't have made it. For being there when no one else was, for putting up with so much, for living through it with me. For never judging me.
My health visitor came to visit, and as they do with all new Mum's she got me to answer some questions, it was a test for PND. It came back that it was likely that I was suffering 'baby blues' that may or may not be down to PND. She booked me in at the sure start for a baby massage class, and said that talking to other Mums would help. I nodded and smiled, and said I was fine, and then never turned up for the class. Next time she came, I changed my answers to the questions, I told her what she wanted to hear.
By the time Sam was a few months old, the anxiety was getting worse I was even getting panic attacks when out with my husband Joe. I was irritable all the time, the slightest thing would set me off. Joe wanting to soothe Sam when he was crying was like torture. Hearing him scream and not being in my arms made me shake all over, it was like physical pain. It would send my body into panic, the logical part of me knew he was fine, that he was with his Daddy, but the logical part of me was buried underneath the 'other' part of me. I would try and prise him from Joes arms, screaming that I needed him back that he had to leave him alone. This understandably put a massive strain on our relationship. We had no alone time, even when Sam was asleep I would stay and watch him, I couldn't relax, my whole body was on edge all the time.
Joe has always worked nights, and while he was only working 3 nights a week, those nights were like hell for me. I would sit in bed, listening for every sound, convinced someone was going to break into the flat, that someone would get to Sams room before I would so I would stay awake all night. When Sam cried I would panic, because him crying meant that I couldn't hear anything, if I couldn't hear someone coming in how could I protect him? So I would rock him and beg him to please stop, but he would pick up on the tension and my panic and cry louder. Those were some of the darkest moments, the times where my desperate need to keep us safe could so easily have hurt us both. I would put my hand over his mouth and scream for him to just shut up. Even now, just typing those words is so hard. It makes me feel like such a failure as a parent, that I probably scared my son so much. I never wanted to hurt him, in my mind it was life or death, that other part of me was like an alarm in my head, screaming at me to shut him up before 'they' heard us. I still don't know who 'they' were, or why I was so scared.
Joe, during a row one day told me I needed to get help, that I needed to snap out of it. Even being so close to me and seeing how much my own mind was tearing me apart he still didn't understand why I couldn't just turn it off, be normal again. It's something many people don't understand, and I don't think until you have been through it you really know how it feels. He asked me to see a Doctor, but I refused, I didn't want to see a Doctor, if anyone knew what I'd done, how I felt, they'd take Sam away, I'd never see him again. Sounds ridiculous now but I was so sure he'd be taken into care.
It wasn't until weeks later, when Joe refused to give me Sam back, that I saw in his face how worried he was about what I'd do, that I realised just how bad things had gotten. I cried, I started to think that the only way to make things right were just to leave Sam with his Dad. That everyone would be better off if I was gone, really GONE. I told Joe about my intentions, that it would be better afterwards, that he was better off without me. He told me he loved me, I cried, he told me he needed me, that Sam needed me. I agreed to go to the Doctors. I didn't think it would make a difference, my mind was made up, I would go, they would tell me what I already knew that they would take Sam away, Joe would see that I was right, and then I'd do IT and Sam could be happy with his Daddy. But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't bare to be without Sam. I knew the only way would be for him to come with me. We'd be safe then, we'd be together. But I could never hurt him. It was then I realised, I needed help.
The day of my GP appointment arrived, as soon as I sat down I could hear Sam screaming in the waiting room, it sent me into blind panic, other than to use the bathroom that was the first time he had been in a different room to me where I couldn't just go back to him. My GP saw how uncomfortable I was and let me go and get him. He was amazing, he reassured me no one was going to take my baby away, that I wasn't well, but most importantly I wasn't going crazy. It wasn't how it was supposed to go. Why wasn't he prising Sam away from me? Why was he so calm. My husband came in with us, together we made new plans.
I started on anti-depressants, I made sure I wasn't alone with Sam for long periods and not long after that Sam started going to my Mum's or my Mother in laws one afternoon a week so I could spend quality time with Joe, we finally talked together for the first time in so long. I was still on edge the whole time I was away from Sam, but I had support, I could finally start to get back to being the person I was. We bought a dog, many of you know our pooch Taz. He gave me company during the long nights with my husband at work. He made me feel safe, even if I couldn't hear an intruder he would, he would save us.
Recovering from depression is a tough road, I had PND again after both my daughter and youngest son were born. Nowhere near as bad as after Sam, but then I knew the signs, and so did Joe and I wasn't afraid to get help.
Even now, I'm still not free of depression and anxiety. I have days where I don't want to talk to anyone, that I want to shut myself in a room and never come out. People think I don't like them, but often if I'm having a bad day I don't like myself either so don't take it personally. I have nights even now that the anxiety is so bad I just want to scream, I still panic when the kids cry at night if I'm home alone, but I have never been back to the darkest days.
I still have days where I convince myself no one likes me, I feel offended by things for no good reason, I snap at people when I don't mean too. I binge on chocolate, I cry for no reason. I will never be the person I was before PND.
Writing this post has been so hard. It's taken a long time to put into words how I felt, and still feel. But if one person suffering reads this, and gets help, or if one person reads this and no longer judges people with mental health issues, then the pain of reliving my own personal nightmare will have been worth it.
I want to thank my amazing husband, without whom, I wouldn't have made it. For being there when no one else was, for putting up with so much, for living through it with me. For never judging me.
