Tag: pregnancy

Motherhood isn’t magical

Trigger warning: Ectopic pregnancy, postnatal depression, suicidal ideation

So far I have found motherhood completely overwhelming. Many of you won’t even have known I was pregnant let alone that I have an actual human baby now. I did intend to post the standard ‘baby Hannah coming soon…’ announcement but I was adamant that I didn’t want to say something until I was genuinely enjoying my pregnancy and feeling excited. Our 12-week scan passed, and it honestly was amazing, but I was puking every night and exhausted and slowly filling with water and it didn’t feel sincere. We had our 20-week scan and discovered it was a boy (I knew it!), but still I felt overwhelmed, uncomfortable and increasingly panicked, it wouldn’t have been honest to write a delighted post about the pregnancy. Eventually of course our son was born and finally it would have been the time to share our wonderful news. But I couldn’t, I was spending everyday sobbing, I wanted to run, he didn’t feel like mine and I didn’t want to spend time with him. Other mums were equally flooded with hormones, but they loved their babies, they felt drained and emotional, but they weren’t experiencing the same thing. So, we haven’t posted about this tiny human I created because what would I say?

My son is almost 8 months old, and I am only just starting to experience truly joyful moments with him and feel able to write something about this time. I have had postnatal depression, this was likely due to my Bipolar so I thought I had prepared myself for it, but I couldn’t have fully understood what it meant to feel so low whilst also trying to look after a small human being. Fundamentally, and rightly so, the baby’s needs come before or are parallel to yours, this means all the ways in which you normally keep yourself well can only be implemented if they work for baby too. It is terrifying to spend over 10 years accumulating a toolkit that primarily cannot be used in motherhood. Sleep? Forget it, its not a thing anymore. Healthy eating? You will live on frozen food and be pleased if you make microwave vegetables. Spending time outdoors? In winter it is freezing and baby requires 500 layers before it can step into your porch let alone outside, you will be exhausted by the time you have located 3 layers. Exercise? The baby is tied to you at all times, the baby will drown if you try to swim lengths with it. All of a sudden, the ways in which I would usually stay afloat seemed impossible and it felt like I was drowning.

We’d repeatedly been told it would likely take 6 months to a year to get pregnant and that is what I’d mentally prepared for. When we got pregnant after the first month of trying I didn’t feel ready for this huge life change. We found out I was pregnant early due to complications and spent 2 weeks in and out of hospital having hormones measured and scans taken. They were concerned it was an ectopic pregnancy and so whilst trying to get my head round being pregnant I was also being told to prepare myself for no longer being pregnant. When this tiny cluster of cells was eventually located exactly where it was meant to be I couldn’t quite grasp that the pregnancy was continuing.

I did not glow during pregnancy, I got very round and ate a lot of prawn cocktail crisps and filled with water until my feet lost all definition and resembled a barbies foot (those are my brothers exact words). I remember saying to people ‘I need a break, I want to have him, then press pause for 2 weeks and just go back to my normal life, where I’m comfortable and can move, and then I’ll unpause and enjoy him, but I need a breather’. Everyone would tell me ‘You won’t feel like that once he’s here, once he’s here you’ll be besotted and want to keep him on play’. So, when he eventually did arrive and I still wanted to pause him I felt like I’d failed already, and he was barely out of the womb.

There are a number of generic statements associated with motherhood; ‘it’s hard but amazing’ is the most common and my least favourite, because it IS hard and not always amazing, in fact in my experience it’s just been hard, full stop. I have learnt that it is ok to say you are struggling as long as you add a disclaimer that you wouldn’t change it/it’s amazing/it’s a privilege/you know you’re lucky. It’s rarely ok to say you are not enjoying it with no disclaimer, especially to other mums who currently have babies. It is also not ok to say you are not sure you love your baby/your baby does not feel like yours/you are not enjoying your baby/you are keen to go back to work. I have never felt more ostracised than I have during this time, this coming from someone who has talked openly about suicidal thoughts and self-harm. Many of the mums I’ve met have initially been supportive, particularly when they were also struggling at the beginning and flooded with crazy hormones; but they now look horrified when I say I’m struggling to work out whether I love him. These are not nice vibes for human interaction and make it hard for me to be honest and form meaningful connections with other new parents.

There are so many expectations of what it is to be a good mother and whilst I know I am trying my best to navigate motherhood during an incredibly difficult time, I cannot help but feel devastated that I am not the mother I hoped I’d be and this time is not what I anticipated. Both the internal and external pressures mean that I am not only judging myself for how I parent but I also feel the weight of societal pressure to be a mother who bakes homemade fritters and is never on their phone. These expectations do not factor in poor mental health, there is no room for variation in being a good mother unless you operate in compassionate circles.

This said, I have been incredibly lucky to live in an area with an excellent perinatal mental health team, not everyone does. During my pregnancy I was supported by a consultant who advocated for me and my mental health when creating my birth plan, which included an epidural and a side room to try and help me get sleep and avoid psychosis after birth. I have seen a CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) since around week 12 of my pregnancy and am still seeing her. We meet at my house weekly when things are bad, fortnightly when things are ok and three weekly when I know I love him and I’m leaving the house. We talk about expectations and why bottle feeding wasn’t going to ruin my son’s health for life, and I needed to chill the F out about it. She sends me hilarious Instagram posts about parenting and rolls her eyes when I feedback quotes from the yummy mummies at baby groups. I see a Nursery Nurse who teaches me bonding techniques as well as ensuring my son is meeting his developmental milestones; she wears dungarees like she presents a children’s show, and she is amazing. I have a psychiatrist who supports me with managing my medication and recommended two antidepressants when I felt suicidal and couldn’t see a way out of how trapped I felt. I was also introduced to a group of other mums experiencing similar feelings and I am so privileged to have built friendships with some of these super-mums who make me feel its ok to not be ok. I could not have better wrap around care.

I am also lucky to have the biggest support network of family and friends who have held me, both emotionally and physically, during this time. My partner is so hands on that I can genuinely say I look smug as hell when other mums talk about hassling their partners to do a 12pm feed. Tom has taken the worst of the night shifts from day one. He has called in sick on bad days, stayed up for every feed when breastfeeding was awful and listened to me with compassion when I said I did not want our son. Both our families have rallied round, babysitting, doing washing, cleaning, cooking, rushing over last minute to watch him when I was so exhausted I set box of tea on fire and desperately needed to sleep. Even now, as things are improving, I have family members watching my son so I can do my KIT (Keeping in Touch) days at work and feel like a competent human being again, giving me a break. My friends have responded to sobbing voice notes with warmth and kindness and have greeted my son with delight even when I have struggled to do this myself. It absolutely takes a village to raise a baby and I am incredibly grateful that I have my tribe.

We recently watched a TV show where a character said, ‘we should be grateful for those who love and cherish our children’ and that couldn’t ring truer for me. My son has been surrounded by so much love since his birth that he couldn’t possibly feel anything other than adored – he’s going to be a narcissist, I just know it. Despite this being such a difficult time, where I have struggled to connect with my son, I am so lucky to be so well supported that my son will know nothing but devotion in this first year of his life.

For more information about postnatal depression or support head to:

https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/conditions/post-natal-depression/overview/

https://www.bipolaruk.org/Handlers/Download.ashx?IDMF=fd8688dc-309e-4afd-8386-1bbef3f814da

The NHS website recommends the below resources and I would recommend PANDAS, having used their website and text messaging service myself.

You can also search for local support groups and find details of national telephone or email support lines on the Maternal Mental Health Alliance website.