Post Natal Depression has to be one of the meanest things ever to roam the planet. Here mother nature is, on one hand giving you the most beautiful and precious gift, your own little bundle of joy; meanwhile on the other hand the rampaging hormones are seeking to strip you of the ability to feel joy, in fact to feel anything except anger, fear and helplessness.
My very bestest friend in the world has suffered this in the most debilitating way after the birth of both her children, so much so that everyone myself included has urged her not to increase her family beyond her lovely pair. We love our Miss B and we don't want to loose her in any way shape or form. Each time she gets knocked off her feet by the raging black clouds she has to fight valiantly to regain her hold on the world. And she does so marvellously. She still is my rock, my towel holder in a fight, she is my guiding star.
Compared to what my friend has been through I have merely been shaded from the sun for a while but it's bad enough. I've been lucky and unlike some mums my depression hasn't spilled over into negative feelings towards Isobel, indeed our bond has remained solid throughout all this, so much so that at times I've wished I could just bundle her up, strap her onto my back and ride away, disappear with her and her alone.
So here is my story.
For the first three months of Isobel's life I was trying very hard to be the perfect girlfriend, the perfect lover and the perfect mother. I thought if I could be perfectly lovable then I could have the perfect family. After a glib couple of comments from PD at the initial health visitor visit I was flagged as at risk, I thought this just a funny tale to tell at first.
But I did feel blue, I did find things difficult at times, but I couldn't be blue, I couldn't struggle, I had to try not to cry, because it isn't supportive and it certainly isn't attractive.
And then the perfect world I had hoped for crumbled.
Yes we had three or four weeks of tricky evenings with Isobel, but in hind sight and compared to many, we got off lightly, but it was too much, things weren't working so PD left.
It was the mornings I found hardest. I'd sit at the 10 o'clock feed with my beautiful baby at my boob and I would cry and cry and cry.
I suppose you could put this down to circumstances rather than hormones, and I would agree as circumstances have got worse so my clouds have got bigger and blacker. But, I suspect, as does my GP, that it's both. I have had more melt downs in the last few weeks than a 1960's ice cream van; the thought of a trip to see one of my lovely NCT friends has bought me nausea, cold sweats and a severe anxiety attack.
It's hard enough to deal with sh*t life throws at you at the best of times let alone during the best year of your life when you are blessed with the hormones of a menopausal teenager.
I filled in a questionnaire this morning, I didn't do too well, so I have been given a prescription again (I stopped taking them last time because they made me soooooo tired and forgetful) this time I'll take them at night. And I've been given me a book to read (much more my cup of tea), a Cognitive Behavioural Therapy book. I'll keep meditating and hopefully those black clouds will soon lift and I'll be back to being me again.
Why I am writing this? Because I am determined not to feel ashamed of it, not to feel even worse because I struggle 'to pull my self together' sometimes. I know many people can't really understand it. And because if there is anyone else who feels even a little this way, I want them to know that they aren't alone, it happens to the best of us.
I am proud of myself for admitting I needed some help (well, I'm trying to be). I am DEFINATELY proud that throughout all of this I am managing to raise a happy little girl. Luckily she thinks it funny when I cry - could have something to do with the over-compensating jolly voice I try to employ at the same time. The world may crumble around us but we are still having fun, I am sooo lucky that way.
No comments:
Post a Comment