PND Does NOT Mean You're Crazy!

It’s a great thing that there is so much more awareness now in relation to Post Natal Depression (PND).  While there is certainly still some stigma, it seems women are now more willing and comfortable with seeking help.

I suffered PND with my first and third child.  The first time was horrendous and getting that initial help was a huge relief. But something that isn’t largely spoken of is Pre-Natal Depression.  I firmly believe that if I’d received counselling during my first pregnancy, my PND would not have hit me as hard as it did.

For some women, being pregnant for the first time is a positive, happy experience.  The excitement of expecting a first child is often enough to forgive the morning sickness, the exhaustion, the discomfort.  For me, I had been at my peak fitness level for the first time in my life just before falling pregnant with our first.  By eight weeks, I had severe morning sickness.  Most mornings the nausea was so debilitating that I couldn’t even get out of bed.  My physical activity stopped.  I was sick from the minute I woke up until I went to bed at night. This went on up until about twenty weeks.  I became immensely frustrated.

But I didn’t share this with other women.  I knew of expectant mothers who had been hospitalised due to their nausea, ending up on an IV drip.  I knew of yet others who vomited constantly. I told myself to suck it up; it could be worse.

I became even more frustrated.  I became angry at my unborn baby.  I blamed him for sucking the life out of me and stopping me from doing what I wanted to do.  Toward the end of the pregnancy, I couldn’t sleep.  I took stress leave from work and spent weeks on 2-3 hours of sleep because of my anxiety around the pregnancy. 

Then came the odema.  My feed swelled up to one shoe size bigger than normal.  I had to sit at work with my legs elevated.  I couldn’t get sneakers on to go for a walk.  I became still more frustrated. I became more and more angry.  I started to question why I even decided to become pregnant in the first place.  I was so angry at my baby for putting me through this and making my life a misery.

In the final weeks before my son was born, I looked around at all the baby furniture we had purchased in preparation for our bundle of joy.  I wanted to smash every piece of that furniture and burn it.  I did not feel one ounce of joy or excitement. It’s incredibly difficult to talk about these feelings, even now, because let’s face it, no pregnant woman wants to feel that way.  And I had convinced myself that nobody would understand because some of my family already thought I had no maternal instinct.  They already thought I would struggle with motherhood.  So of course I wasn’t going to tell anyone about these feelings. That would be admitting failure before I’d even started!

So I never got help.  I tried talking to my husband, but I don’t think I was able to articulate the extent to which my feelings were affecting me. He therefore didn’t understand just how serious this was.

I had all these emotions going on BEFORE my son was even born.  When he ended up being an undiagnosed breech and was delivered via emergency c-section after over 24 hours in labour, I felt like I was outside of my body and that none of this was real.

Breastfeeding was painful and caused great distress.  My iron levels were extremely low but this wasn’t detected until after I was discharged, meaning my energy levels were at an all time low.  This improved once I started on liquid iron.

By the time my beautiful boy was about six weeks old, my husband and I both realised that I had to get help.  I finally made it to weekly psychology sessions as well as some mother/baby bonding sessions.  My GP prescribed anti-depressants.  By the time our boy reached six months, I was finally bonding with him.  By the time he reached twelve months, I was back at work two days a week and you’d never even know that I suffered from PND.

But it was a rough road. Those initial days when I came home from hospital, I thought I couldn’t be a mother and that I would have to take my baby back.  Back to where, I have no idea, but it was so firm in my mind that I couldn’t do this parenting thing; I didn’t know how I was possibly going to cope.  It truly was one of the darkest times in my life.

I just want people to know that becoming a parent for the first time isn’t always easy and some of us struggle more than others.  But we shouldn’t be judged because of our struggle.  It’s okay to ask for help and it’s okay to have feelings that are not considered as “normal”.  (Who knows what normal is anyway!!) I encourage any first time parents who might be struggling to take the first step and ask for a hand up.  It might be a trusted friend or family member, it might be your GP or other health professional but taking that first step is the path to rediscovering yourself and feeling better. So find the peace, find the calm and be kind. Especially to yourself.