Before we conceived our first baby I struggled with extreme emotions. I have always been an emotional person, but after taking a new medication for the arthritis, the emotions became quite extreme and almost uncontrollable. I had ceased this new medication and returned to a former drug at least 6 months before conception, but am not convinced that the effects had yet worn off. It is worth noting that the medication in question was removed from the market as it had been linked to many deaths by heart attack, predominantly in the United States.
From the moment of conception I became even more emotional than before. Having been told that it would take so long to conceive, I struggled with how soon it happened. It was only 4 weeks earlier had the doctor delivered the news that it may take years to happen!
I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I was blessed with a baby growing within, while there were many around me who had been ‘trying’ for years. It didn’t seem right somehow! In hindsight, I just simply wasn’t ‘ready’.
In the weeks leading up to the confirmation of the pregnancy I became more and more hostile towards my husband and to life in general. I would cry, scream and want to hide from the world. I would rather stay in bed than do anything at all. Whatever I did decide to participate in took an extreme amount of energy.
As the days progressed, I would have good and bad days. The good would come when everything went smoothly and when stresses were low. The bad would come when things didn’t go to plan, or when I got concerned about the journey ahead. Emotions would be overwhelmingly strong and I felt little control over them. Life got very dark very quickly.
We left our jobs and moved from Darwin to Adelaide when I was 12 weeks pregnant. I was not ready to leave so early, as I was finally beginning to see a network of friends around me and was enjoying my time in the Territory. That said, we believed Adelaide to hold greater medical and family support.
We moved into a house that we had seen over the internet and just after unpacking our belongings, spent 3 weeks in New Zealand for a dear friend’s wedding. The time in New Zealand was quite a trying time. I was a mess and very much not myself. I was unable to participate in the usual antics that my friends would get up to. I took everything to heart and got upset and angry at the drop of a hat. One friendship in particular was severely damaged on this trip through my actions and emotions.
It wasn’t long before I just wanted to “go home”. The trouble with that was though, that I didn’t really know where home was anymore. This was a feeling I had experienced when I moved to Darwin, and a feeling that was prominent with our move to Adelaide.
When we returned to Adelaide, I found myself quite isolated. Many of my close friends had moved interstate and those around were busy with life. I did not stuggle so much with the fact that people were ‘busy’. But, I did struggle with those who consistently said they wanted to catch up and failed to do so. There were times when I remember asking them “when? Shall we make a time” and they would say they would get back to me. It was the lack of integrity that bugged me. As I look back, I may have appeared quite needy. I was. The truth is that I needed a friend. I needed someone whom I could confide in and no one stood or sat still long enough to listen.
The medical side of the pregnancy was quite daunting and scary. It is a journey into the unknown for all first time mums, but with my added complications, there was an increased tension. The doctors seemed to create a large amount of stress at every appointment. I dreaded each time as they would tell me or warn me of the risks ahead and instil fears about the road ahead.
In the lead up to the birth of the baby, my mental and emotional state reached a very scary point: one which I still find quite distressing. I wanted to hurt myself and I wanted to hurt my unborn child. I remember taking a knife to my stomach and feeling so angry and useless that I wanted to kill what I assumed had caused the pain: my unborn child. It hurts to write this, and tears still fill my eyes. I am certainly not proud of these events. It wasn’t the real me. I was unwell. I was scared. I was lonely… Darkness had surrounded me. Thankfully I did not follow through. I thank God for His protection over our son, and over me.
I remember flying off the handle at my husband and yet at the same time feeling like I was watching it all happen. My head would tell me to calm down; that I was being irrational, but my body and mouth kept going. No matter what I did, I had no self control. I prayed. I cried out. I claimed every Truth I knew. I got nowhere. I could not reel myself in. I felt completely helpless, abandoned by God and by everyone around me.
I was admitted to hospital with pre-eclampsia 11 days before the birth of the baby and remained there until 5 days after his birth. The time in hospital was dreadful. The nurses questioned my physical ability to care for a child, the medical profession did test after test, panicking over my body and I remember having only my husband there for the majority of those days. I love my husband, but he was stressed over my hospitalisation and was concerned for my wellbeing. It would have been helpful to have a friend to walk with us.
We had very few visitors in hospital or at home in the weeks after the baby’s birth. I did not understand why I was so alone. Why didn’t people want to meet the baby? Why didn’t they visit me in the 16 days I was in hospital? I especially ask that of the faith community we were ‘a part of’ at the time. Where were they? I know that some of them were visiting others in the same hospital and felt very abandoned. It hurt even more that I knew my husband had called some of these people for support.
I hoped my emotional state would improve after coming home from the hospital. The only improvement was that I no longer wanted to hurt the baby. It was all about me. I was still out of control. I wanted things to go well, and although lots did go well – I had hoped for more. I struggled with breastfeeding and didn’t have the emotional strength to make decisions. I felt that I wasn’t ‘good enough’, that I was useless and that I was alone in my emotional pain. I was in a deep dark place and could not get out of it.
I eventually gave up breastfeeding and expressing. My emotional state improved within 24 hours, though I still struggled significantly. I remember not wanting to move, not wanting to get out of bed and being out of control. I asked my husband to stay home from work and was scared of what I might do in his absence.
I felt very scared at what I was going through. I didn’t like what I was thinking or feeling and wanted help. However, I was scared that I might be sent away, or that someone would take my precious child from me. When my baby was around 8 weeks old I tried to talk to my doctor about the possibility of post-natal/depression. It took a lot of effort to do this, and unfortunately I was met with the viewpoint that post natal doesn’t exist: that it is a “bunch of sleep deprived women”. I was distressed further.
Having not been heard by my doctor, I was reluctant to try to open up to anyone else. I didn’t have any close friends at the time or anyone with whom I spent regular time, so my husband was the only one who saw the worst of it. I remember telling a small group of people one Sunday morning about me feeling ‘homicidal and suicidal’. It was a small faith community that we had become a part of in the months leading up to the baby’s birth. Again, the response was disappointing. I was laughed at. I guess people didn’t realise how serious I was. I didn’t have the emotional energy to fully express how I was feeling and felt this was as big as a cry for help as I could muster. Not one person in the room followed it up. Noone asked if I was serious or if I was ok. I again felt abandoned.
Another obstacle I faced in the first few months after the baby’s delivery was that I had a relapse in the arthritis. I struggled to get out of bed and could hardly walk. Caring for the baby when my husband was at work became increasingly difficult. It took almost 2 weeks of different medication and not being able to walk before my body settled to a level that I could handle.
That said, my emotional state improved when I stopped breastfeeding. It got even better when I commenced part time employment (when the baby was 7 mnths old). It was a blessing to be using my brain and skills to help others. That said, it took around a year after my baby’s birth before I started to get the help I needed. It came about through a guest speaker at a mum’s group. The speaker talked about post natal depression and highlighted the typical scenarios as well as the common emotions and thought patterns. It resonated so clearly with me: she was describing how my life had been for the last 12 months or more. I spoke with her after the meeting and broke down into tears. I found a different doctor and sought help from a psychololgist.
The amazing part was that just talking about how I was feeling and what I was experiencing brought an immensely quick healing. I felt so much better just knowing that I could talk to someone and that I was not alone in how I was feeling.
One day after I had started to seek help, I visited my parents. My dad said to me that he was seeing me “come back” and that I was regaining my sense of humour. Both mum and dad said they thought I had been depressed. I was able to agree with them and share that I had started seeking help. It was a relief in many ways, though I was a little upset that someone else had ‘known’ but not helped.
Many relationships were damaged during this time. I don’t have contact with most of the people who I considered to be friends at the time of the depression. I have tried to seek reconciliation with some. Some have offered forgiveness and understanding, though relationships are distant and changed. Others, however, have refused to hear where I was at and labelled me as being ‘needy’, ‘demanding’ and ‘manipulative’. I admit I was needy, but refute the claim of being manipulative. I was unwell. I needed help. I needed a demonstration of God’s love.
A large part of being involved in a faith community for me is about loving one another. That generally means meeting people where they are at. I felt very let down by the ‘community’ (or lack of) around me. This experience has reminded me that we need each other; that God’s family are His hands and feet. I learned again that it is important to talk about the things we have been through as it not only releases us by bringing things into the light, it opens up conversations for others to find healing and wholeness. I don’t want to see someone suffer through what I did in silence. Whilst I cannot take the journey away from anyone, I hope that I can at least share it with a few and provide some encouragement.
My second pregnancy was free of depression! I now have two delightful boys that I love very much!
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