Grace's Story
“I met Grace when she attended my ‘New Baby & Me Nurture” course online. Quite early on Grace shared within the group that her partner was having a tough time; the group responded with sensitivity and support. Some months later at Mama Yoga Grace spoke with me a little more about how she had coped at the time and how things developed. I invited her to share her story here as I think many of you will appreciate it, and the important issues it highlights.
Be aware that Grace’s story includes a brief description of her challenging birth experience which those of you awaiting the imminent birth of your baby may prefer not to read just yet. Most importantly this story is one of overcoming difficulties and the strength we develop doing so, sharing our stories can be helpful in removing stigma or shame that can be attached to many issues surrounding childbirth and parenting so thank you, Grace”
One Family’s Experience of Postnatal Depression
I read somewhere recently that postnatal depression (PND) is a rational response to the experience of motherhood in a western society. You may have heard of the 40-day period of confinement that other cultures believe is important for the postpartum mother. For 40 days after birth (arguably the most life changing event in a person’s life), you are not expected to do anything else but rest and recover, establish feeding and bond with your baby. Your whole family will take care of you, the mother. They will do everything else that is required to maintain a household. It has been shown that rates of post-natal depression are so much lower in societies that provide this support to the new mother.
Now I’m not saying that I didn’t have support, because I did. I had so much support from family, friends and my husband who happened to be on the summer holidays from school as a teacher. The specific, constant round the clock support that is so crucial for our mental stability as we transition into motherhood (a vulnerable place to be for even the strongest person) is simply not recognised as important in our society. It's not realistic for families to deliver this kind of support as mostly they are working full time and have children themselves. The pandemic has exacerbated this, making it risky or illegal to access the support we might really need. I didn’t appreciate that a period of “confinement” might be helpful when I was pregnant. If I’m honest at the time my sister suggested it, I thought it would be a bit much to have the constant presence of family in our new-born space. I suppose I was right and wrong in some ways.
Juno was a much longed for baby – it took us 3 years and IVF to have her so when she arrived, I think we both felt immense pressure to love every second or at least appear to be loving it. I was afraid of any negative emotion towards her and the fear of failing her as her mother. It’s also implied in the well-meaning comments about how wonderful the new-born time is – “make the most of this time because they grow up so quickly, enjoy all the cuddles, you must be thrilled” etc... In our society, we obsessively focus on the cute baby and completely forget about the wellbeing of the mother. Everyone cooed over Juno but rarely did people ask how I was. I had just experienced a traumatic birth where a 3-day induction failed, and I had to have an emergency c-section. I had a reaction to the anaesthetic so I couldn’t breathe, I felt like I was going to pass out and bled heavily – so much so that they had to put a major haemorrhage call out. I thought both I and my baby may die on that operating table. It was the opposite of the natural birth I had craved, having done hypnobirthing, and hearing about my cousins being delivered at home by Michel Odent the pioneer of low intervention birth.
My post-natal depression didn’t start straight away, I was fine and coping until my husband got post-natal depression. PND can start any time in the year after birth and it happens to around 1 in 7 women and 1 in 10 men in the UK, but no-one talks about the crisis of postpartum depression in men. It took me by surprise, and it was then that my whole world fell apart. For him the trigger was when he went back to work as the head of a busy music department in a secondary school. He had been traumatised by the IVF and the birth and essentially had a nervous breakdown the first week he was back at school. He hadn’t been able to sleep and would be awake for hours at night. He couldn’t cope with her crying at all and would get frustrated very easily. Eventually he just went to bed and couldn’t get out of it for weeks. He has been off sick since then and resigned from his job. Did you know that you are 50% more likely to develop PND if your partner has it?
That support structure that I was relying on completely fell away and I suddenly got a great big shock. I had 24/7 responsibility for our baby who was only sleeping in 2-hour chunks at night, and I was still trying to recover from a major operation. Now I also had to look after my husband. But I carried on just about coping because I had to – I didn’t have a choice. My sister (who was 7 months pregnant) did help a lot and even came to stay for a week whilst Matt stayed with his family up north. My parents also helped, cooking for us, and taking Juno out for walks so I could sleep.
However, post-natal depression is not The Baby Blues and it’s not cured by a good night’s sleep. Baby Blues are a normal reaction to the drop in hormones we experience after birth. It normally ends after a couple of days. The symptoms of PND are persistent and don’t go away on their own. Matt accessed support from the GP who started him on an SSRI – selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor Sertraline. About 8 weeks later he started to get better, and it was then that I started to experience the symptoms of PND. It's normal and natural not to love being a parent all the time. However, what is not normal is everything I was feeling. Like a headache It crept in slowly and felt like an absence of energy or happiness rather than overwhelming sadness.
I would randomly start crying 3-4 times a day and was having panic attacks. I felt intensely full of rage and irritated by everyone and everything. Having dark thoughts, about running into the road with Juno. Exhausted beyond belief and even when she slept better, I was just as exhausted. My body felt heavy and cumbersome. I just wanted to lie in bed all day. I feared being on my own with her in case she cried. The sound of her crying sounded like it was in another room though despite being right next to her. I stopped responding to her crying and would need to be told she was crying. I felt so guilty and totally inadequate because all I wanted to do was sleep but I knew she needed me, but I just couldn’t do it.
I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after she woke up in the night for a feed. I couldn’t keep up with daily chores or look after myself. I would forget what I was saying mid-sentence and couldn’t remember what had happened yesterday. I felt hopeless for the future and I couldn’t see it improving. I thought of referring myself to a mum and baby unit at one point, just to get a break. The amount of support I needed from Matt was impossible for him to give me as he was still feeling ill himself on some days and needed to rest a lot.
On the outside, you wouldn’t know anything was wrong. That’s the thing with mental health. Most people, like us, are high functioning despite having depression and anxiety. We still leave the house every day and doing our best to look after our daughter. We look fine. This whole time I was in total denial that there was a problem and just said to myself obsessively that it was me being a bad mother and that I should just get on with it. I had a negative thought loop playing repeatedly. Everyone else seemed to be ok, even on the bad days so this was just me not doing a good job and just being tired. I had very low self-esteem. I hated the way my body looked postpartum, I was the heaviest weight I’d ever been, and the c-section scar was a daily reminder of the traumatic birth I had endured. But doesn’t everyone feel this way? Motherhood is hard, everyone knows that the mental load of mothers is massive, and I was sleep deprived so surely things would get better once the sleep improved. I now see denial is part of the illness and stops you from seeking help earlier.
Eventually I realised that things were not right, and Matt persuaded me to ring the GP. Immediately the GP told me I had PND and probably post-natal anxiety too. She suggested a low dose of Sertraline. She referred me for peri natal mental health support (I later was told I didn’t meet the criteria as I didn’t have symptoms of psychosis). I joined the forums of PANDAS UK and the Birth Trauma Association, and it really helped to see how many people were in the same situation. Luckily, I was already having free counselling with City Pregnancy who specialise in birth trauma and infertility. I felt worried about taking a drug to help my mood. What if I become dependent on it? Will people judge me because I take an anti-depressant? When will I be able to stop taking it? The GP warned me that the side effects were quite rough in the first few weeks but then they disappear and in around 4-6 weeks I would feel the full effects. My mood would be more even, and I would sleep better. I picked up my first prescription and around 8 weeks ago I took my first tablet. A lot of emotion surrounded the email I sent my family describing how difficult it had been to admit I had a problem, and that I was now taking an anti-depressant. I felt shame but they had to know. The first question everyone asks me since then is how long I plan to be on the medication. The honest answer is I don’t know. It’s the thing that’s helping me to enjoy my life again, so I don’t feel in a rush to get off it.
When the SSRI started to work it was like a cloud had lifted. I finally felt more myself than I had done in years. It’s not euphoria, it’s just normality. I am now enjoying looking after my daughter and feel like I’ve fallen in love with her all over again. I have so much energy, I feel like I can do anything and go anywhere with her. I love seeing her smile and I respond appropriately when she is crying. The insomnia has gone completely, and I feel happier in general. She is such a wonderful baby, and I am incredibly lucky to be her mum. I genuinely mean that – I’m not saying that for the sake of anyone else. I feel it with every fibre of my being! Most importantly, I have hope for the future. I feel capable of looking after her and I don’t have the same fear of being on my own with her. I look forward to it!
Now that I am on the other side (and I still have bad days) I can see how asking for help is genuinely so important. Our society isn’t naturally inclined to offer the support that we might need so we have to take the initiative. I have met some amazing mum friends who have been there for me in this dark time – one of which I met through Lynn’s incredible postnatal course, and I now understand how much you need the peer support from other mums. Finding those people who ‘get it’ is key to feeling validated and not dismissed so I’m very grateful to Lynn for holding this important space for us newbie mums.
I also know how important it is to not be “the perfect mother”, the one who holds herself to such a high standard that anything below flawless is a failure. This might be because I’ve had a few weeks more to get used to the idea of motherhood, but I think the whole idea of “the perfect mother” – who is unendingly selfless, breaks themselves for the sake of their children and puts their needs last is toxic, unrealistic and is probably contributing to the epidemic of post-natal depression. It’s not good for our children to have a mother who is totally burnt out so sometimes we must put our needs first. I only need to be “good enough” as Donald Winnicott (child psychologist) would say. If you relate to any of the symptoms, then know that asking for help is what is best for your baby and your own wellbeing. Ask your mum friends how they really are feeling. The shame and stigma that surrounds PND and mental health is what exacerbates it. You are not being weak or incapable, you need help and the support is there if you need it.