When I was younger, I remember watching Brooke Shields talking about her battle with postnatal depression (PND), and her story stuck with me. I decided then that I would feel no shame in asking for help if I had the same experience.
Then when I got pregnant, the midwives explained that most of us would get the baby blues. Not to be confused with PND, the blues normally occur in the first week or so after birth. Mums can feel weepy, isolated, guilty, anxious and/or trapped. It’s probably the last thing we expect. But along with our bodies coping with major physical adjustments (hormones and rock-hard boobs, anyone?!) we also have to deal with an overwhelming sense of responsibility for this tiny human we’ve created. All this change coupled with exhaustion and lack of sleep, it’s no wonder some of us react this way! The blues aren’t meant to last for more than a few days, and according to what I’d read, I should only be worried if I wasn’t feeling better after a month. It all seemed logical so I decided that I’d address it in the same way I would tackle PND.
What I WASN’T prepared for was how debilitating the blues would be.
I had a dream pregnancy. I didn’t throw up once, I felt confident in my new body, and I was super-prepared in the months leading up to Arianna’s due date. I had a spreadsheet documenting all the things we needed to organise, for crying out loud. And just before she arrived, I thought I’d accomplished everything I had set out to do before she entered our lives.
Then she was in my arms, and I felt… nothing. No ‘Circle of Life’ theme song in my head or sense of complete adoration when I looked at Arianna, wrapped up like a burrito in her bassinet. Over the next 48 hours, I said all the right things to my visitors, and when the midwives came in to check on me I reassured them that I was fine. Meanwhile, I hadn’t slept for more than 20 minutes at a stretch, and was absolutely convinced that something was terribly wrong with me. But in my head – despite thinking I was prepared for this – I thought that admitting it to anyone meant that I was a failure. So I kept quiet.
Two days later, I was secretly a wreck. I was terrified of being left alone with her. My milk hadn’t come in and poor Arianna was screaming in hunger, breastfeeding was painful, and I was EXHAUSTED. The feelings intensified, and I recorded my thoughts, convinced that what I was going through was much worse than ‘normal’ PND. Among the things that I noted:
- I resented the women who used the terms “besotted”, “over the moon”, “drunk with love” and so on to describe meeting their children for the first time. Liars.
- I felt like I wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Couldn’t I give her back?! (Yes, really!)
- I felt like a failure each time she cried because I couldn’t keep her full and content, and then I felt resentful of anyone else who managed to calm her down.
- I was paralysed by the fact that I would eventually be alone with this baby when my husband went back to work.
- I felt like the worst, most ungrateful person in the world to hate being in this situation, when so many others weren’t as lucky.
That night, my husband offered to wander the hospital halls with bub so I could get some sleep. I tried to relax, but the anxiety increased and I finally felt a meltdown coming, sure that I’d made the most terrible mistake of my life in deciding to have a baby. I knew at that point that if I didn’t ask for help, I was in deep trouble. The midwife on duty was amazing, reassuring me that what I was going through was normal, but for my peace of mind, she would keep an eye on me and recommend a professional evaluation if things hadn’t improved. Instantly, I felt better because there was a plan in place. That night, knowing that help was only a call button away, I finally got a bit of sleep. And when morning arrived, I woke up with hope that things would get better.
Motherhood is still a massive challenge. For me, the first two months were overwhelming as I dealt with the “loss” of my life as I knew it. I went from being – I thought, anyway – an independent, capable woman to knowing next-to-nothing about my new role. And there were still quite a few breakdowns! Four months on, I sometimes still grieve for my former life. But with each gummy smile or gurgle, it gets just that little bit better. I’ve learnt that getting some fresh air each day is a life-saver, even if it’s just a ten-minute walk. I’ve learned that being open and talking to other mums about these challenges is one of the best things you can do for yourself. And the most important thing? Never be afraid to ask for help.
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Sharon Chai left the world of high heels, lipstick and fancy pants this year to fumble through life as a new mum to Arianna. Between diaper changing and off-key singing for her daughter’s entertainment, she writes about her Thermomix kitchen escapades on Thermomixin.com.
Image Credit: Flickr user Sonfotografias
