That Time I Nearly Walked Into The Sea: Post Natal Depression and Me

I had Post Natal Depression.

There.  I said it.

I have started to say it to 'new people' in my life over the last couple of years.  But only every so often.  And never candidly.

I had terrible, debilitating, awful Post Natal Depression.  And it nearly completely ruined me.

How's that for a statement?

But it's true.

There's things that you can write down better than you can say to people's faces, and this is one of them.

And that's something else I struggled with.

Around 80% of my very own family work or have worked in mental health care, deal with mental health care every single day and I could not say anything to them.

And if they noticed, they never told me.

It wasn't until Ethan was nearly two years old that I realised how bad things had been.

Post Natal Depression is an absolute bastard of a thing.

You can prepare for it, you can be aware of it, but it is a sneaky, horrible bugger and it lies to your brain.  It tells you that you are okay and that you are coping and that things are not so bad - you know, as you are packing your bags while on the third crying-fest of the day with extra snotters.

Except you aren't going anywhere - oh no.  It gives you the fear, the guilt and the unknown amount of pent-up angry energy to leave, but then it ties your arms and legs down with fear, guilt and angry energy, rendering you unable to move.

It talks you out of doing anything by telling you that 'it's just because you aren't getting enough sleep', or 'it's because you are having an off day'.

It makes you tick the wrong boxes on that daft Edinburgh scale test the Health Visitor gives you while you smile nicely at her to make sure she doesn't have any concerns for you and it forces you to tell everyone that you are fine, while you tearfully beg your husband in the mornings not to leave you alone with two kids all day.

And then you realise - it's more than just one day.  It's been two months. And then four.  And then six.

And the six months rack up into another few weeks while you think about it a bit after you've spent the afternoon walking around the block about forty times while your baby cries in his pram and you break down in the arms of a lollypop lady when she asks if you are alright after you cross with her for the third time.

You decline invitations from friends and family to go out because you don't feel like it.  You stop leaving the house because every time you do, you feel like the whole world is watching you and judging you. Getting on a bus seems torturous, braving the shops is not an option. And if you do, everything moves in a haze - you feel fraught and tired and panicky.  It takes all of your strength and energy just to sit in the garden with them for an hour, hoping the postman doesn't come or that a neighbour won't intrude.  You feel guilty and tired and weak.

The feeling of sheer loneliness is claustrophobic and terrifying.  You begin to have thoughts about just leaving, just walking away from it all and letting everyone else get on with their lives.  They'd be better off without you.  Maybe your kids would be better without a mum who sits sobbing in the corner all day while pressing 'ok' on another episode of Waybuloo.

You start blaming other people - oh yes, it eats into your relationships too.

It turns your friends into enemies, your family into foes.

It makes you believe that the whole world is conspiring against you.  

I lost friends.  I stopped seeing people.  I missed out birthdays, nights out, a Take That gig, job opportunities...

I'd like to take this time to apologise to anyone affected here - it wasn't me you see.  I wasn't there.  Well, I was, but under the surface struggling like hell to re-emerge.

It kills you physically too.

There is no nap long enough to satisfy the exhaustion.  No drink alcoholic enough to dull the feeling of achy stress, no food satisfying enough to kill the urge to run.  Run, or end...something.

End as in end?  As in THE end?

Not precisely, but yes, kind of.

The urge to fling yourself down stairs, to walk into the sea, to disappear is...prevalent.

But again - completely unimaginable too.

The guilt, the fear, the self-loathing is completely in charge.  It is not keen on letting you escape.  It likes to be in control. It likes to torture you for as long as possible.

It was like standing on the edge of a deep dark hole and looking in.  Except one day I realised I wan't looking in - I was peering up at where I used to stand.

Helpless.

I've found this very cathartic to write about.  Nowadays the hole is far away.  It's in some woods, past a stream, behind a mountain and over a large barbed-wire fence.


So what's the point of writing this after it's happened?

There are lots of points.

1. It's good for me to assess what went on here.  A huge part of mental health is never talked about.  So here I am.  Talking about it.  For friends, family and others to see.  Because guys, I was not normal.  I was really, really ill.  And my fuck am I not just one badass for getting out alive?  Especially after struggling through with no visit to the doctor for help?  Well, yes.  But badass and very stupid.  What doesn't kill you really does turn you into one hard bitch.  But it shouldn't be like that.  Which leads me onto my next point.
2. If someone you know has had a baby in the last year might look like she feels like this, please be kind to her.  It is so much harder than you would ever believe to admit that there might be something wrong.  Especially if she feels badass like I did. Admitting something is wrong is bloody hard to do.    And if you are reading this and can relate, go to your doctor.  If you can't do that for whatever reason, please consider phoning a helpline at least. Try PANDAS on 08432898401 - they were really lovely when I phoned.  If phoning seems scary, try the forums on Mumsnet or Netmums, which both have some amazing women on them, ready and willing with kind words and advice and support.  Some of my best days were totally due to the help I received on such forums, and I'll be forever grateful for that.  Blogs are great for support to.  Check out PNDandMe, a safe blog to discuss pnd and postnatal issues. Twitter is also a great place for instant support and chat. Be kind to yourself.  It does get better.  Help yourself to help it get better.
3. It's the little things.  It really is.  So yes, a PND lady needs a break from the kids as often as possible - but not too much.  I was so grateful for the half hours walk around the block I got when my father-in-law popped in and sat with them, allowing me to get a walk and some fresh air. I was extremely grateful when my mum took Tom overnight, allowing me and Dave to get out and act like adults for a night, staying at her house while she stayed at ours.  I was so, so grateful when a friend came and sat with the kids while I nipped to the shops.  I was over the moon when my husband made a point of getting the kids ready in the mornings when I couldn't, despite the fact he was heading to work.  It meant I didn't have to. It took away the repetitive relentlessness of the day.  It was the person who did the dishes when they came over for a quick visit, the friend who brought flowers and cake occasionally, the long-distance phone call between my bestest and I.  These were the tiny little things that people did off-the-cuff, but that stood out like massive beacons of light in my dark pit.  Quite often, the lady with PND will say 'no thank you', but this is very often not what she means.
4. It's over now, but the effects are long-lasting.  To say it's knocked my confidence is an understatement.  I feel like I lost actual years of my life.  What saved me, was going back to work - where I built up community and made new friends again.  That most definitely helped my state of mind.  What I discovered about myself is that I need to work.  I am happiest when I am working.  It's not like that for everyone.  I struggled to find what fit for me and ended up taking on a lot of stuff - an Open University course, driving lessons and Zumba classes.  My mind needs to be busy!  I enjoyed it all, but looking back - should I have done all that?  I did some crazy stuff when I had PND.  Including getting married 2 months after having a baby.  But that's another blog post!

Thanks to everyone who supported me through that time.  Whether you knew it or not - it really meant a lot.

And if you have someone in your life with a small child, please be the person who does the little things.  You never know who is struggling.


Need more reading on PND?  Check out these links below:

http://afteralcohol.wordpress.com/2014/03/26/mummy-drinks-because-i-cry/

http://muddybootsanddiamonds.com/2014/06/postpartum-anxiety-part-2/

Also, have a look at The PND Family Page for loads of extra support and perspectives

http://pndandme.wordpress.com/pndfamily-help-support/

How Did I Do Two Under Two?

Like anything horrific and traumatic and stressful, it's always best to speak about it long after it has happened.

And now that my boys are finally old enough to feed themselves, play by themselves for a degree of time and are actually sleeping for most of the night (albeit in our bed - I don't care, I'm just very grateful for those extra hours of sleep) I can finally, quite safely admit that we are out of that crazy, crazy time (touch wood.  Oh sweet gods of toddler/small child behaviour, please don't think I am being flippant or horrible...I love you, thank you for the gift of good boys you have bestowed upon us).

I had no idea how much I could do on so little an amount of sleep.

I had no idea how much pee, shit, puke and off milk I would be dealing with in one day.

I had no idea how much milk two small children could drink.

I have no idea how I moved house with a two year old and a six month old.

I have no idea how I managed to learn to drive at this time.

I have no idea how I managed to do an online course at Open University in this time.

I have no idea how I also then took on a full-time job in a bar at this time.

I have no idea how I did it.

Post-natal hormones clearly make me crazy enough to take on the world.

Ethan was born 3 weeks early.  Admitted to SCBU on birth, I didn't actually meet him until he was 8 hours old and the spinal tap had worn off enough for me to get into a wheelchair.  I met him at 4a.m.  The lights in the SCBU unit were dim and there were lots of babies in little plastic caves, naked and nappied, but warm and comfortable.

Off the CPAP and still on the feeding tube

My son stood out like a sore thumb on that ward - when Thomas was born he was 10lb 9oz, so my second son was always going to be big too.  And at 7lb 9oz and a half, he had been shaping up to challenge his brother in the weight category before his premature arrival.

Born breech (despite apparently being the right way round when the surgeon prepped for the C-Section - talk about bloody-minded.  I should have read the signs!  What kind of baby tries to escape his own birth by swimming back into his mother's rib cage?)

Ethan had difficulty breathing at birth, so was put on a CPAP machine to help him with his oxygen levels.

I didn't get to hold him until the next day and he was off the CPAP completely, but even then he still had to be tube-fed for a couple of days and was plastered with various monitors.

Joining me in my hospital room!

Thankfully his stay in SCBU was short, and second time around I was feeling fairly confident.  I established a good feeding routine in hospital when he finally came to join me in my little side-room and I was adept at getting up in the night to feed him at routine times.  All was going swimmingly, despite us having to stay in hospital for a few more days than planned due to me contracting an infection. 

Battered, bruised, anaemic and on hard antibiotics!  Happy days!

I think his stay in SCBU was actually beneficial - instead of the painful first couple of nights in hospital, in agony, trying to get to a screaming baby while my hormones made me sick with panic and fear because my stomach muscles didn't allow me to lean over to get him, I got some much needed recovery time.

Finally out of SCBU and nearly ready for home!

The first time Dave came to visit us with our eldest, I was shocked at how much Thomas had grown.  How had he grown so big?  So noisy?  So clumsy?  How the hell was I supposed to stop this huge, excited child from hurting my tiny little baby?  It was a funny feeling - overwhelming, and one that I'm almost ashamed to admit now.  Thomas had just turned 2 years old 2 weeks previously, but already I saw him as nothing but a huge destructive force.

It was so hard to see him as a baby too - especially as Ethan had been in SCBU.  Because he was.  It's something I hope he'll forgive me for.

At home, it was harder.

Settling into a routine at home was a lot harder with two extra people and a dog to deal with, never mind the excess of curious visitors.  I found it quite hard to cope.  My C-Section wound was still very fresh and I was wiped out by a long hospital stay, some pretty hard antibiotics that I was sent home with and some pretty persistent anaemia, not to mention the demanding breastfeeding/expressing routine that I'd set for myself.

My boobs were massive, and I went into production of milk like a well-established heffer - the freezer was full within weeks and I had extra to go around.  Which was just as well - as Dave had to go back to work just 4 days after I got home. Expressing with a screaming baby, a manic, unsettled toddler and a dog who needed to go out every few hours was a tough gig.

So how did I manage?

 What were my...

Top Ten Tips For Coping With Two Under 2?

Best day ever!

1. This isn't only the first thing on my list, it's the most important.  BE KIND TO YOURSELF.  Yes, you've had a baby.  A BABY.  Which is a pretty damn big thing to have had come out of your body at one time, whichever way you achieved it.  So, I'm going to say it again: Be Kind To Yourself.  You might have the evening to yourself, you might have an hour when both kids are napping, you might get half an hour once a week, but make it YOURS.  It is for YOU.  It is not for washing bottles or cleaning or hanging out bed sheets, it is for you to relax, rejuvenate and to recover - which besides feeding the kids and making sure they don't open the front door is all you should be worrying about.  Because, Mama, if you are not right, your kids are not right.  They need a well-rested and happy Mama to look after them.  Me?  When Dave got in, or my mum popped round, or an auntie or uncle was around I always slept, shopped for clothes, went in the bath, went for a walk...anything to feel a bit more human.  Little things like this really help.
   
2. IF YOU NEED HELP, ASK FOR IT.  Don't do what I did and soldier on.  This links in with my first point quite nicely.  I struggled.  It was tough.  And my hard-lady, hormone infested, macho self would not let me darken the door of anyone else. I have to admit, there were a few times where I presented myself on-line anonymously on a parenting forum, or phoned a parenting helpline to speak to someone. To lighten my load. .  If you don't feel like asking a real life person for help or even just a friendly ear, then please seek it out elsewhere and don't bottle it up.  This can lead to post-natal depression and basically a hard, horrible time for everyone involved.  Try posting on Mumsnet for some friendly moral support, ParentLine or PANDAS for some totally awesome and non-judgemetal support and advice.  If you feel really horrible, alert your health visitor, closest relative or friend or even doctor.  And don't panic! There's loads of help available, and none of it is to be ashamed or worried about.  Everyone falls down sometimes.  And everyone is entitled to a hand up.

   

   Two of the best things ever - a great husband and an awesome double pram!

3. INVEST IN A DOUBLE PRAM.  I cannot iterate how much, as a non-driver at the time, one of these contraptions saved my life.  My double buggy, although quite hefty, allowed me freedom from the four walls of my house on dark days.  It let me take two, sometimes grouchy children, out of the house for some fresh air and exercise to lift and change their moods,  It allowed me to go to the shops for milk when we ran out.  It was the basis of any good day out and allowed Thomas freedom to walk and rest as he needed, while letting Ethan sleep.  I recently tried to sell my doubler at a second-hand market and couldn't do it.  I wasn't quite ready to let go of such a huge coping strategy.  I even used it as recently as about 8 months ago.  Initially I thought that i wasn't going to need it, but I have never been so glad of human invention in my whole life.
   
4. SPEND QUALITY TIME WITH THE ELDEST CHILD.  The biggest thing for me was the shift in my relationship with Thomas.  Although we still had a very close mother/son relationship and we still had a tight bond, I felt as though 2 year old Tom really struggled with mummy having a new baby. Equally, I struggled to deal with his consequent reaction and behaviour to it. He went from super-excited to really defiant, combined with prolonged tantrums very quickly.  Looking back on it, the best thing we did together was to get a babysitter for Ethan and go swimming once a week, just me and Tom.  It was quality time well spent and something that really helped Tom to feel more comfortable in his new role as big brother while allowing me to spend some much-needed time with him one-on-one, affirming our relationship while doing something we both loved.
   
5. TAKE TIME TO EAT.  This seems like such a basic thing, doesn't it?  It is and it isn't.  Eating comes last in the grand scheme of things for a lot of mothers a lot of the time.  They get tied up in milk feeding, coping with the demands of a fussy toddler, potty-training, washing and just general life...and eating?  Eating doesn't seem so important.  Eating gets de-classified along with showering and wearing clean clothes; namely, you are just intent on keeping your head down and getting on with it.  DON'T.  Eating is fuel for your fire, the thing that settles your mood, the one thing that gives you the energy to carry on.  Especially if you are breastfeeding.  Eating well must be a priority.  Don't skimp on food or you'll soon know all about it.

   

   For me, an Open University course helped my confidence and stimulated my baby brain

6. FIND WAYS TO BE YOURSELF.  Why did I take on driving lessons and university courses in the first six months of being a mother of two?  Well, it wasn't because I was bored!  Rather, it was because the hour that I got in the car with my driving instructor gave me a break from the bedtime routine while chatting to another adult for the first time that day, or the studying time I had for my course gave me something to challenge my grey matter, which for me was a huge thing.  I'm not saying you should go out and do something crazy or as time-consuming as this, but seriously consider an exercise class if you feel like you need a bit of active therapy (I did Zumba -there was something about moving hard and fast that did it for me), or even head to the library and pick a book.  Just do something for you.  Two small children is a time-consuming, arduous job.  You need to surface from time to time.

   

   We got off our butts and headed to toddler group two mornings a week

7. JOIN A TODDLER GROUP. Trust me, nobody hated toddler groups more then I did.  Initially, I only went because I needed a reason to get out of our house (we were living with my FIL at the time).  But as time went on and I started to get to know everyone, everything got better and I even made a good friend.  Two months after I had Ethan I even went to the annual Xmas party and got really drunk and had a great time, which was totally what I needed.  Just the basic fact that I was meeting up with other women who had kids the same age, Thomas could play pretty much unsupervised and I could sit in a space with a cup of tea for ten minutes made a world of difference.  I think it's important to try more than one group until you find one that fits - not all are the same, some are run by crazy over-organised people, which is fine if that's your thing, but all I wanted was a casual meet-up, not a dishes rota.  We went to another toddler group when we moved house and it was awful.  If I'd gone to that one first it would have put me off for  life.  Thankfully, by then, it wasn't so much of a lifeline.
   
8. BE KIND TO YOUR FUTURE SELF.  This is a message not only for having two kids under 2, but one for your whole life.  Being kind to your Future self is something you will constantly high five yourself for if you keep at it.  Past self is awesome, because Past self always keeps an umbrella in the car so that future self doesn't get soaked on a trip to the doctors.  Past self remembers to stick all of the school shirts in the washing on Friday night instead of panicking on Sunday night.  Past self sticks a collection of birthday cards in the cupboard for Future self to dip into when caught short on someone's birthday.  Past self isn't ridiculously organised, she's not always the best and she struggles too, but she's always thinking of Future self.  Future self is very grateful that Past self was so thoughtful.  It's like having a best mate who you never meet.

   

   Hot Wheels attached to a table?  If it works, do it!

9. UTILISE ANYTHING THAT WILL GET YOU THROUGH.  Anything.  If your kid wants to watch Finding Nemo for the 3rd time that day, letting you catch up with yourself a bit, that's fine.  If you have a particular penchant for dark chocolate on a sandwich, eat it.  If your baby settles better with a dummy than without, let him have it.  This is not a time for guilt.  Soon you will get more sleep,soon they will be in more of a routine and soon one of them will be able to play independently. Now is not the time to beat yourself up for being a 'bad parent'.  Bad parenting is not this. Those who have not walked a mile in your shoes will not understand.  Those who have will give you a high five on the way past.

   

   Funny face, make you smile!

10. HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOUR.  It really really  helps if you can laugh when you get pooped on by not one, but both kids before you are due to leave the house (tick!).  It helps if you can see the bright side when the wheel falls off your three-wheeled pram (this actually happened to me) meaning some kind soul volunteers to help you home with a baby, a toddler who won't walk and a broken pram.  It very much helps if you can giggle just a wee bit when your toddler decides to post your money and driving licence out of the letterbox just as the postman arrives and also while you are hooked up to the milk pump (again, this actually happened to me.  I just screamed 'post it back!' when the postman shouted through the letterbox at me and hoped to love he couldn't see too much through the fancy glass door.) Keep in mind that if any possible scenario exists  in your head, it the potential to happen.  Sod's law dictates that if you have to be at baby massage for 12p.m, your baby will make 12p.m the new nap time.  Ride with it all.  It's just another moment in time.  Let it go and move on - it'll all make a funny story one day.

Not such a baby now!  Though he'd like to be...

There is no magical time for when life gets easier.  For me, everything fell into place a bit more when Tom started to go to nursery and I started work.  Even then, Ethan didn't start sleeping through the night until he was just over 3 years old.

But I'm looking back on my days with two babies and I think, yes, it was damn hard.  But by gawd, it was worth it.

Growing up far too quickly