Authored by a fellow blogger who wanted to share her personal story about postnatal depression. I want to thank her for having the courage to do so!
I have toyed with the idea to write about my experience with postnatal depression. On writing this, my son will soon learn of my past battle to bond with him and this could cause him distress. However, I feel this taboo needs to be spoken about and in doing so my son will understand how becoming a parent can be a difficult experience for men and women.
My Story with Postnatal Depression
For as long as I remember I have never wanted to be a mother. My earliest memory of not wanting to be a mother was when I was eight years old. My mother was a child minder as well as bringing up myself and my two brothers and boy, did she struggle! I remember seeing my mother battle with breaking up arguments between my brothers and the children in her care, pushing a double push chair with two toddler’s sat inside enjoying the ride and cooking a hot meal every night that everyone agreed with and would enjoy. Although I am sure my mother was happy, I could see how difficult children are sometimes.
My first scan was on the seventh of January 2009, three days after my eighteenth birthday. My baby wriggled around on the screen and the midwife smiled sweetly and told me the baby is beautiful and healthy. Tears streamed down my face, but not for the reasons the midwife was thinking. They were tears of sadness as I realized I didn’t want this baby. There were no feelings of love that rushed to me, no warming of the heart or thoughts such as ‘how lucky am I?.’ Inside I was numb and empty.
Dealing with my Feelings
I began to accept I wasn’t a real woman. When I was born, my maternal instincts hadn’t been built within my heart. Being honest with myself in this brutal way made me feel sick with fear and cry so hard. I kept telling myself, ‘you can’t hate your baby forever.’
My first night in hospital was horrible. I was taken to a postnatal ward and placed on a bed situated by a window. The midwife told me to buzz if I need anything and at that she pulled the curtain around me. Dougie was sleeping soundly and I was surrounded by balloons and cards from family. Sitting on the bed in front of Dougie I let go of my emotions that I had tried so hard to keep in. Putting my head in my hands I silently cried so no one would hear me. Dougie was here and now there is no going back. Bleary-eyed because I had so many tears, I looked up to the sky and for the first time in my life I mouthed, please God help me.
My feelings about being a mother didn’t improve. A health visitor told me I had postnatal depression and it was important to see a doctor right away. This was some closure, as I knew an illness was living in me and it would soon go.
Postnatal depression became worse as each day went by and I started to feel suicidal and often wanted to run away. Over the years, I had sought help from four counselors, been prescribed three types of antidepressants, saw plenty of friends and family and have spoken to a number of health care professionals. Nobody had been able to helped me. Sadly, due to my postnatal depression, unable to be cured, I developed severe bonding problems with Dougie, who is now six years old.
I missed seven years of mothers days, birthdays and Christmases. Most importantly, it had taken Dougie’s first day of school away from me. I was snappy all morning and couldn’t wait to get rid of him. On returning home I burst into tears, rang sick into work, as the suicidal thoughts wormed themselves into my head, and I booked myself into see a doctor within the hour. I struggled to show affection to Dougie. When he showed wanting for affection, I tensed and wanted to scream out loud. I loved my son, but struggled to bond and in the darkest of days, dare I say, regretted having him and all I could think of was running.
Conclusion
My mind perceived the most amazing experience a person could go through into something that felt like a life sentence of unhappiness. The most effective treatment for myself was ‘fake it till you make it.’ When Dougie came for affection, I would hug him back before my mind would tell me not to. After a short time, I became in control of my emotions and enjoyed being a mother. If there’s one lesson I want you to take away from my story, it’s to always do the opposite of what your mind is telling you. You are in control.
After seven years, I have won the battle.
If you want to learn more about this topic or connect with Jessica Clark, please visit her blog or Facebook page.
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