Tamworth Post Natal Depression Support Group

A Personal Story of Postnatal Depression and Puerperal Psychosis

In 1991, aged 21, I had no idea really of Postnatal Depression. Yes, I had heard of it, but like many I thought it was something other people had. I had read all the pregnancy books and I knew it all. I had worked with children and babies.
I wouldn’t get that!
I was sure of it.
My pregnancy with my son was great. With exception of having a few panic attacks at the end of the pregnancy, all went well.
I gave birth full term on the 2nd February, 1992 after a 9 hour labour to a 7lb 4oz baby boy.
The birth I will remember – as many a mother does, but in labour, I was given a sleeping tablet and when the pains came, I asked for some paracetamol. The Midwife examined me and told me that it was a bit late for that now- I was already 8cm dilated!
My sons head was so big that I had to have 20 stitches and half way through, I lost my contractions and all I wanted to do was sleep. After being threatened with a C Section if I didn’t push, I ended up with more than stitches!
Being stitched up was not much better. I tried to help the Dr and was told not to touch anything! Or he’d have to change the sheets etc again as it wasn’t sterilized.

After birth, I didn’t get to see my son- he was whisked off as he’d had trouble with breathing and when he was returned, he was handed straight to my husband – without me seeing him. I didn’t even know what he looked like.

I feel this added to my depression.

My Postnatal Depression after my son started at around two weeks postnatal.
I didn’t like him…. I felt guilty for my feelings. He felt like my brother or just this baby that someone had given me to look after for them.
I cared for him physically- bathing him up to 4 times a day. I was forever feeding him, but breast feeding him made me feel dirty. Was I contaminating my son?
He was a hungry baby and at 2 moths, I was breast feeding him for over an hour and then ‘topping’ him up with a 8oz bottle of formula.
Taking him for walks, I covered him up. Looking into the pram, no one would have guessed how indifferent I felt to my own son- I put on a great show- I didn’t even like this baby. His pram smashed against rocks and as he cried out, I just told him to shut up and put his dummy in.
Days and nights merged and my feelings began to get worse. I was often tearful and when I wasn’t, I was sleeping or feeding him. I didn’t feel like me anymore- just this ‘thing’ that operated for this baby all called my son.
I resented him.
I resented the love that my husband felt towards this baby that had invaded our lives.
Nights of endless feeding. Nights of him screaming, me screaming, him crying more and finally after hours him sleeping, but me now swollen eyed and sobbing fully awake, but mentally asleep.
Disturbed thoughts running into each other, switching lights on and off- scared that we’d all blow up or the house would burn down as Id forgotten to switch the gas off.
Days of distortion – when light entered the windows, but darkness lived in my head.
Fears that id never, ever be the same again.

After three months, I decided that I needed another baby. Not wanted, but needed. I needed to feel better.
My second pregnancy- with exception of gestational diabetes was uneventful and on 25th March, 1993 after a 4 hour Labour, I gave birth to a 6lb 8 0z baby girl. My daughter was still attached to me by the cord when I first saw her and I fell in love straight away.
Postnatal Depression was not far away though. Tired to the bone- not only looking after two babies, but moving house when my daughter was 11 days old, I soon ended up in hospital with exhaustion.
Whilst in hospital, I wrote a letter to my Health Visitor telling her how I felt. I was diagnosed with Postnatal Depression.
I became obsessive with cleaning my house- even when it wasn’t dirty. I bathed my babies 4 times or more a day.
My feelings and thoughts were jumbled.
I often woke in a sweat, thinking the world was about to end or forgetting where I was or worrying where my front door was. Seems silly now, but I became hysterical at times.
I told no one, but snapped at people for their innocent comments. I felt my daughter was swapped at birth and she wasn’t really mine.
I cried non stop for days and worried about making a cup of tea wrong.

At 13 months old, my son fell down three stairs and called out for me sobbing. From that day, I bonded with him, knowing and feeling that he was mine and dependant on me for all.

Two years passed. My Postnatal slowly became better, but another haunt came. I felt I was too fat and dieted down to 6 stone.

After 2 years, I felt I wanted another baby. My periods were scanty, but somehow, I became pregnant straight away, (My fertility is next to none!)

This pregnancy was awful from the start. I felt different- weird and not quite with the world. I was so very tired and snappy with all I spoke to.

I suffered from sickness and I had gestational diabetes again- worse this time. I was told to cut right down on sugar which I found hard going and referred to a dietitian. My dog was badly run over when I was 7 months pregnant and had to have vet treatment which was very time consuming and expensive.
At 39 weeks gestation, one morning, I woke feeling so bad I could hardly move.
Later that night, I was diagnosed with chicken pox.
The next day, I began Labour.
I was 13 hours in Labour and on permanent bed rest – which I hated.
My daughter was born with help with breathing on the 17th May, 1996. She weighed 7lb 6oz and I loved her- adored her from the start. My itching meant nothing. Drs and Nurses surrounded me and my new baby checking her for signs of chicken pox. She was fine.

It’s hard to explain how those days, weeks and months changed my life now, but in many ways, I look back now and I am a stronger person for going through it and I am thankful I had Puerperal Psychosis. (Severe Postnatal Depression)

On my 3rd day, I had had no sleep at all and when I did finally get some sleeps, I suffered nightmare after nightmare. My baby spinning around in a tumble dryer. Her screams, her blood on the inside of the door.
I awoke screaming and vowed id never go back to sleep again.

At 4 days gestation, I noticed a small sore on my daughters head after her bath. I took her straight to the Drs, but they didn’t know what it was and sent me home. An hour later, we were phoned urgently telling us that an ambulance had been called and to take her STRAIGHT to hospital.
My little daughter had chicken pox and it was serious.

After this, I became very ill in lots of ways. I wouldn’t eat or sleep for days My thoughts weren’t my own at all. I believed people were either the Devil or God or Angels and I believed I had magic powers and only I was aware of this. All my reasoning went. I believed my daughter was slowly being killed in hospital and when it rained, I thought it was a flood and God was going to kill all. Only I, I believed could save the world.
Id touch peoples heads in the street and say they were healed and try to take their glasses off.
It all seems funny at times now, but at times; i was tortured by inner voices telling me I had to kill my daughter for a sacrifice! It was only my Health Visitor that stopped this.
I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital and spent nearly two months there.
Medication eventually settled me, but it took 2 years to get better and feel like me again.

After 2 years, I again decided to try for another baby.
It didn’t take long.
After an eventful pregnancy- where I contacted Hepatitis, my dog died of Cancer and my son was rushed to hospital, I gave birth to a sweet 6lb baby girl. She was beautiful and I fell in love again. She was born on 10th May, 1999.
This time was so different. Although I suffered from Postnatal Depression and also a little Psychosis in pregnancy and the first few days, it was eased by a Midwife who helped me so much and I cherish as a friend to this day. I was helped by Progesterone and antidepressants in late pregnancy and for a year afterwards.
Drs and Nurses, Social Services were all on stand by, but with counselling and the invaluable support from the Postnatal Depression Support, I soon became well.
The groups help was invaluable. There I could be me, tell all how bad I felt and not feel as if I was a bad mother.
After attending for two years and having counselling, I decided to start a group that helped mothers after their PND – when they were still feeling that they needed support, but not from a formal group setting. I called the group The PND Befrienders and it offered a safety net where woman and their family could enjoy coffee/Tea and Refreshments and also get a free massage.
Unfortunately, due to ill health, I was not able to continue with the group.
But I felt great once again!

A few months later, I became pregnant again.
This pregnancy was difficult. At 18 weeks gestation, I began to lose my waters. At 20 weeks, I started bleeding. I was prepared in many ways for a late miscarriage- with which I have suffered 18 and am the Miscarriage Contact and Representive.
At 23 weeks, my Dr made me go to hospital.
At 25 weeks gestation, I gave birth to a 1lb 10oz daughter by emergency C Section who I named after my friend. I had a low lying placenta and was also bleeding from a vein. I lost quite a lot of blood and was very weak for quite a while, but I soon recovered physically.
On my third day however, I became agitated and confused and wanted to see my baby. I again felt she was about to die- or was dead and felt I had to rush to her. I felt I needed to save the earth again and was screaming and crying out. My Consultant refused to give me progesterone, but soon agreed after we consulted a few people!
I was sedated and the next day, I was referred to a psychiatric hospital suffering from Puerperal Psychosis again.
This time however, it was short lived and I only suffered a few attacks. I had a lot of support too- sometimes I feel too much! I had people coming and going throughout and often was very tired.
My depression wasn’t as bad this time- partially due to the continued support I was still receiving from my Midwife and partially to the PND Group.

All in all, my depression – although at times bad – has made me a better person. I have been there.

In all, I haven’t mentioned my husband. I want to say throughout my depression, he was wonderful. He supported me and was there for me throughout.

Thank you to all that have helped me x