My Postpartum Depression Story : The Muddled Mother
When my first daughter arrived in 2012 I found everything kind of fit into place. She fit into our family, slept well and was a content baby. For the first year of her life we sat in a bubble with no care for the outside world. When people said how exhausted they were or hard they were finding it, I honestly couldn’t understand them.
Things were quiet different second time around and I soon realised how naive I had been. I had a rotten pregnancy with painful SPD, polyhydramnios, being severely anaemic and Mr T arrived at 37 weeks. My waters broke early and I was induced, but because I was so anaemic I needed an iron transfusion. I was feeling like I had been hit by a ton of bricks. I felt so much pressure to get home asap and I’m certain now looking back, that I rushed myself before I was ready.
The recovery after birth was slow, with bleeding for 10 weeks postpartum and taking nasty iron tablets. Mr T had severe reflux and my 3 year old daughter did not bond with her sibling and was quiet resentful of him. Looking back it’s no surprise that I developed postpartum depression. However, at the time I was unable to admit what was going on. I kept faking that I was doing OK. I plastered on a fake smile and shared beautiful photos over social media of my perfect little family, but inside I was crying.
It took 5 months for things to come to a head. My husband was working nights and I was desperately trying to keep on top of my washing with Mr T throwing up on everything with his reflux. I ‘d just about managed to get a load dry in the summer sun. When in true English style the heavens opened and everything was soaked in seconds. Running around I desperately trying to salvage what I could, but in a fit of rage, emotion and pain, I chucked the dryer across my kitchen and collapsed, defeated and broken.
I was so upset that what ever I tried to do, I couldn’t do it. Was I failing being a home-keeper, a mother, a wife and I just couldn’t keep doing this. I was ready to run away and wanted to escape my life. My darling 3 year old walked over to me and cuddled and kissed me and told me it was OK. I saw the concern and sadness in her eyes and that moment I knew this is not the mother I want my daughter to grow up with. It is not her job to make me happy and I needed to get me back.
My Postpartum Depression Story : Recovering
After starting antidepressants a few days later, things seemed to get worse before they were better. Unfortunately I was passed around numerous times and my medication was being increased at every doctors appointment with little effect. Once I took the time to research things for myself I found I could actually try different antidepressants, which I was told initially I couldn’t because of breastfeeding. I started my new medication and did feel a difference in my mood and my motivation. Shortly after I started CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy), which gave me some coping mechanisms for day to day life.
I had a bad set back in late October after going through a rough patch and not being able to get hold of my medication. With the help of the CRISIS team and being put on more medications, I was able to eventually come out the other side, stronger and happier. I have spent hours reading books and learning to understand myself in a whole new way. Support groups on Facebook literally became my life line and the support I have had has been amazing.
It’s been a very long road, with a few bumps in the road, but I have survived. The best piece of advice I got was to just survive the day, one day at a time. I have learnt to let go of the mummy guilt. I understand there was nothing I could have done to prevent this and it is an illness. I’m a great mum and always have been, but my own head wouldn’t let me see that.
Bio : The Muddled Mother I am The Muddled Mother, I blog about parenting, everyday life, my postpartum depression and anxiety. I am honest with my experiences and hope that I can also offer some comfort to others going through this, that they are not alone. www.themuddledmother.co.uk
Edited by Mummyitsok