I'm frocking serious!
This year, I am participating in Frocktober, to raise funds for ovarian cancer. This consists of wearing dresses every day throughout October.
In my participation, I pledge the following:
1. I will wear a frock every day throughout October to raise funds for ovarian cancer
2. I will post a frocking photo every day as proof
3. I will use frocking puns wherever possible
4. I will wear a different frock every
day, and I will be creative with this (as I don't own anywhere near 31
dresses, I see many op-shop beauties being involved)
5. As per a challenge thrown down by a frocking donor (and am open to other challenges by future donors), I will be wearing my wedding dress for one day throughout October.
6. This will be
far prettier than if I were to participate in Movember (this is less of
a pledge, and more of a fact, but should be noted)
I'm taking donations and/or loans of any size 10-12 dresses. Please support this great cause, and make my frocking efforts worthwhile by donating here
https://frocktober.everydayhero.com/au/amy-1
jump on my facebook page for photos and info
https://www.facebook.com/amyfrocktober
Tuesday 3 September 2013
Wednesday 14 August 2013
Give me something for the paaaaaaaain...
Earlier this week, Little Mate and I were indulging in the rare guilty afternoon pleasure of watching an episode of Ellen. I think this may have been a repeat, so forgive me if this is old news, but I'm not very up-to-date on celebrities... She had the very pregnant (and gorgeous!) actress, Kristen Bell as a guest on her show and, naturally, the conversation turned to her impending labour:
Ellen asks Kristen if she plans to have a natural birth. To which, Kristen gives Ellen a look as if she has asked her if she would mind severing one of her legs and giving it to her, shakes her head and replies 'I’ve got nothing to prove. No way! I feel like when I arrive at the hospital I want a glass of whiskey, I want the epidural in my back. And, I want to get hit in the face with a baseball bat and wake me up when it’s over because I’ve seen the videos and it looks terrifying!'
Such an honest answer inspired me to think, and subsequently write, about each woman's personal experience of childbirth and tolerance for pain. Of course, the correct and true answer is "to each her own". Nobody needs to, or should measure their experience against that of another, and each woman's experience of labour is different.
But is it that simple? lets be honest here. As much as I try to live by the mantra of living life my way and not comparing myself to anyone else (and think I manage to succeed, most of the time), I have to admit, I do sometimes wish I could count myself amongst the women who have successfully endured labour with no pain relief. I hold women who go through natural births at heroine status. I cannot stress enough the admiration and awe I have for a woman who can bear down and birth her baby with no screams for mercy and pleading for the pain to stop. It's a badge she should wear with great pride.
My personal experience was (in brief) as follows:
Throughout my entire pregnancy, I never felt anxious or even nervous about my impending labour. Other things, yes, but the labour, no. I wondered if it was normal to feel this way, I often searched myself and tried to work out if underneath it all, there was a level of fear I wasn't tapping into, but I found no anxiety, I felt genuinely philosophical about it "Well, of course it's going to hurt, but there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it. I haven't been there yet, so I have no idea how it'll be for me, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it". No pre-labour freak-outs. Even when I went into early labour, I was eerily calm. And quite proud of how well I was coping.
It turns out this was the "calm before the storm". Once I was in the hospital, and those contractions started coming thick and fast, to say I freaked out is an understatement. I unraveled completely, and panicked beyond reason. I was shaking uncontrollably. I wanted the epidural before I was even dilated enough to have one. I was terrified. Yes, the contractions were painful, but all I could think of was that they were going to get worse! My mind quit the game long before my body did. I had the epidural as soon as they would give it to me. In the end, I needed an emergency c-section anyway, so the epidural was going to happen, regardless.
Am I relieved that I didn't go through the entire 12 hours of labour refusing pain relief only to have it administered in the end anyway? well, yes! when you put it that way, my God, yes! but part of me was disappointed that I had allowed my mind to shut down and refuse to tolerate any more. Part of me wishes I'd been the heroine. Reluctantly taking pain relief only when the medical staff told me "Sorry Mrs X, you are by far the bravest and strongest patient we've ever seen on this ward, but, no. We can't do a c-section without pain relief".
In planning to write about this, I went on a google search of this topic, and found a forum relating to the very Ellen interview I mentioned at the beginning, but to my great surprise, it was criticising Kristen for her comments. I was truly shocked. Many of the women on this forum, who had managed to successfully have natural births, felt that Kristen was criticising them and suggesting that the only reason they did this was to 'prove something'.
I will start by firstly saying, I never imagined that those who have successfully had natural childbirths would ever feel that they had to defend themselves, I only ever imagined this was a job for those who didn't, and secondly, by politely disagreeing.
I may be naive but, however they came across, I genuinely don't believe that Kristen's comments were a direct criticism of anyone (seriously how could you criticise someone for such a thing), and I don't feel that anyone should take them personally. I wonder if maybe, the criticism ought to have been of Ellen for asking the question in the first place, but Ellen has a lot of admirers (myself included), and that's another battle I won't be fighting today.
I felt that Kristen's answer was not only incredibly funny, but refreshingly honest and it felt good hearing it. I was proud of Kristen. She made it OK to say that no, she doesn't plan to have a natural birth. Kristen hadn't had the baby yet. The easy answer would have been the standard and diplomatic "Well, yes, I mean, I obviously haven't been in the situation yet and don't know how I'll handle it, but I plan to go for as long as I can cope without relief", but she didn't. She made a joke, but also delivered a real truth. The truth; that she, personally, doesn't feel the need to give a false answer and/or prove that she will be able to do something which honestly terrifies her. What a great strength and a brave thing to admit on national television.
In delivering her baby, Kristen may surprise herself and find that she copes better than she gives herself credit for. She may not. It doesn't really matter. It's none of my business, or anyone else's. But I have a feeling that however she does it, she'll do it her way. And for that, she gains my admiration and is up there with the heroines on my list.
Back to the aforementioned forum, I'd like to point out that although I don't agree with their stance on Kristen's declaration, the comments from the women were generally quite respectful and focused on the right to each woman's choice, but a few were not so much. Particularly those from a woman who missed the point of the topic altogether, and ironically failed terribly to prove that she had nothing to prove by making comments that she believed her sister was "week" (sic) for having an epidural during childbirth and taking tylenol for headaches.
This is not the first time I've heard comments like this, and it is reminiscent of the time I had an extended family member, after discussing my labour experience and pain-relief choice, declare that epidural is for "cheats". I'm not going to focus too much on this type of person, because I am certain they are in the minority, and also, one paragraph of my time is about as much as I'm willing to give to those who choose to be nasty, but what I will say is this; The moment you criticise another person for their own personal levels of tolerance for pain, you lose your heroine status in my eyes. Yes, just like that. I have a list of the qualities I most value in others' and in myself, and having empathy for others rates significantly higher than the ability to tolerate extreme levels of physical pain.
In summary, I think that in writing this, I've actually made peace with my pain management choices in my own labour! Not only is it the past and not something I can change anyway, but I'd go so far as saying that I believe that it was the right choice for me. But there will always be a small part of me which admires and envies the heroines. Because I hate to admit my weaknesses, and my physical strength is by far one of my biggest.
Is our entire strength as a woman really defined by what we do in that one block of time in which we are challenged more than most? of course not! I have faced fears, overcome challenges and achieved goals in my life which serve me well to remember, rather than equating strength to the ability to handle one specific situation.
I do indeed have some strengths, but I can honestly say, and accept, that they are not to be found in the labour ward. Next time, who knows? I may surprise myself. Then again, I may find myself begging to be hit in the face with the baseball bat, too.
Earlier this week, Little Mate and I were indulging in the rare guilty afternoon pleasure of watching an episode of Ellen. I think this may have been a repeat, so forgive me if this is old news, but I'm not very up-to-date on celebrities... She had the very pregnant (and gorgeous!) actress, Kristen Bell as a guest on her show and, naturally, the conversation turned to her impending labour:
Ellen asks Kristen if she plans to have a natural birth. To which, Kristen gives Ellen a look as if she has asked her if she would mind severing one of her legs and giving it to her, shakes her head and replies 'I’ve got nothing to prove. No way! I feel like when I arrive at the hospital I want a glass of whiskey, I want the epidural in my back. And, I want to get hit in the face with a baseball bat and wake me up when it’s over because I’ve seen the videos and it looks terrifying!'
Such an honest answer inspired me to think, and subsequently write, about each woman's personal experience of childbirth and tolerance for pain. Of course, the correct and true answer is "to each her own". Nobody needs to, or should measure their experience against that of another, and each woman's experience of labour is different.
But is it that simple? lets be honest here. As much as I try to live by the mantra of living life my way and not comparing myself to anyone else (and think I manage to succeed, most of the time), I have to admit, I do sometimes wish I could count myself amongst the women who have successfully endured labour with no pain relief. I hold women who go through natural births at heroine status. I cannot stress enough the admiration and awe I have for a woman who can bear down and birth her baby with no screams for mercy and pleading for the pain to stop. It's a badge she should wear with great pride.
My personal experience was (in brief) as follows:
Throughout my entire pregnancy, I never felt anxious or even nervous about my impending labour. Other things, yes, but the labour, no. I wondered if it was normal to feel this way, I often searched myself and tried to work out if underneath it all, there was a level of fear I wasn't tapping into, but I found no anxiety, I felt genuinely philosophical about it "Well, of course it's going to hurt, but there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it. I haven't been there yet, so I have no idea how it'll be for me, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it". No pre-labour freak-outs. Even when I went into early labour, I was eerily calm. And quite proud of how well I was coping.
It turns out this was the "calm before the storm". Once I was in the hospital, and those contractions started coming thick and fast, to say I freaked out is an understatement. I unraveled completely, and panicked beyond reason. I was shaking uncontrollably. I wanted the epidural before I was even dilated enough to have one. I was terrified. Yes, the contractions were painful, but all I could think of was that they were going to get worse! My mind quit the game long before my body did. I had the epidural as soon as they would give it to me. In the end, I needed an emergency c-section anyway, so the epidural was going to happen, regardless.
Am I relieved that I didn't go through the entire 12 hours of labour refusing pain relief only to have it administered in the end anyway? well, yes! when you put it that way, my God, yes! but part of me was disappointed that I had allowed my mind to shut down and refuse to tolerate any more. Part of me wishes I'd been the heroine. Reluctantly taking pain relief only when the medical staff told me "Sorry Mrs X, you are by far the bravest and strongest patient we've ever seen on this ward, but, no. We can't do a c-section without pain relief".
In planning to write about this, I went on a google search of this topic, and found a forum relating to the very Ellen interview I mentioned at the beginning, but to my great surprise, it was criticising Kristen for her comments. I was truly shocked. Many of the women on this forum, who had managed to successfully have natural births, felt that Kristen was criticising them and suggesting that the only reason they did this was to 'prove something'.
I will start by firstly saying, I never imagined that those who have successfully had natural childbirths would ever feel that they had to defend themselves, I only ever imagined this was a job for those who didn't, and secondly, by politely disagreeing.
I may be naive but, however they came across, I genuinely don't believe that Kristen's comments were a direct criticism of anyone (seriously how could you criticise someone for such a thing), and I don't feel that anyone should take them personally. I wonder if maybe, the criticism ought to have been of Ellen for asking the question in the first place, but Ellen has a lot of admirers (myself included), and that's another battle I won't be fighting today.
I felt that Kristen's answer was not only incredibly funny, but refreshingly honest and it felt good hearing it. I was proud of Kristen. She made it OK to say that no, she doesn't plan to have a natural birth. Kristen hadn't had the baby yet. The easy answer would have been the standard and diplomatic "Well, yes, I mean, I obviously haven't been in the situation yet and don't know how I'll handle it, but I plan to go for as long as I can cope without relief", but she didn't. She made a joke, but also delivered a real truth. The truth; that she, personally, doesn't feel the need to give a false answer and/or prove that she will be able to do something which honestly terrifies her. What a great strength and a brave thing to admit on national television.
In delivering her baby, Kristen may surprise herself and find that she copes better than she gives herself credit for. She may not. It doesn't really matter. It's none of my business, or anyone else's. But I have a feeling that however she does it, she'll do it her way. And for that, she gains my admiration and is up there with the heroines on my list.
Back to the aforementioned forum, I'd like to point out that although I don't agree with their stance on Kristen's declaration, the comments from the women were generally quite respectful and focused on the right to each woman's choice, but a few were not so much. Particularly those from a woman who missed the point of the topic altogether, and ironically failed terribly to prove that she had nothing to prove by making comments that she believed her sister was "week" (sic) for having an epidural during childbirth and taking tylenol for headaches.
This is not the first time I've heard comments like this, and it is reminiscent of the time I had an extended family member, after discussing my labour experience and pain-relief choice, declare that epidural is for "cheats". I'm not going to focus too much on this type of person, because I am certain they are in the minority, and also, one paragraph of my time is about as much as I'm willing to give to those who choose to be nasty, but what I will say is this; The moment you criticise another person for their own personal levels of tolerance for pain, you lose your heroine status in my eyes. Yes, just like that. I have a list of the qualities I most value in others' and in myself, and having empathy for others rates significantly higher than the ability to tolerate extreme levels of physical pain.
In summary, I think that in writing this, I've actually made peace with my pain management choices in my own labour! Not only is it the past and not something I can change anyway, but I'd go so far as saying that I believe that it was the right choice for me. But there will always be a small part of me which admires and envies the heroines. Because I hate to admit my weaknesses, and my physical strength is by far one of my biggest.
Is our entire strength as a woman really defined by what we do in that one block of time in which we are challenged more than most? of course not! I have faced fears, overcome challenges and achieved goals in my life which serve me well to remember, rather than equating strength to the ability to handle one specific situation.
I do indeed have some strengths, but I can honestly say, and accept, that they are not to be found in the labour ward. Next time, who knows? I may surprise myself. Then again, I may find myself begging to be hit in the face with the baseball bat, too.
Thursday 27 June 2013
The only thing to fear, is fear itself
Now that I've shared my experience with Post Natal Depression, I will share with you my journey towards recovery.
The moment I was diagnosed with Post Natal Depression, I headed off on a mission to rid myself of this ghastly illness and these ghastly feelings like a woman possessed. If I heard of something which had helped another sufferer/was rumoured to help/could help/might help/possibly won't help but is worth a try, I did it. I did so many things at one time that I don't know for sure which helped the most, but I'll share all of it (or at least those things I can remember), because I believe that it was a combination of all these things which helped, and I know that doing more things than I could keep track of was preferable to doing nothing:
Meditation
I had never tried meditation before, and knew little about it. All I did know was that it is an exercise in switching off your thoughts (I've since discovered it is so much more than that), and for someone with a mind as active (read: over-active) as mine, this really seemed not only incredibly difficult, but kind of boring. I can't even sit through a full movie these days before the ADD kicks in, and my mind suddenly flicks to something else I could/should/would/might be doing, and I'm off! For this reason, I do find it more difficult to meditate than, say, someone who can sit and watch a spider spin a web on a quiet afternoon, but for this reason, I also stand to benefit more from this exercise than someone who knows how to not run their brain into overdrive.
How I fell into meditation was quite a coincidence (or not. I am a moderately spiritual person, and in this case I absolutely believe that I was strongly guided to where I needed to be during this time). My husband, bless him, decided that I deserved a pamper and bought me a voucher for a day spa for Christmas. I planned to do what I usually would with a voucher like this at my disposal (massage, body wrap, facial), but looking through the menu, I saw a package entitled "Spirit Ceremony" which consisted of Reiki and massage, followed by a guided meditation. I hmm-ed and ahh-ed over this, only being a moderately spiritual person, thinking that I could potentially gain nothing from it and walk out feeling no different and there's my voucher wasted, but I also deduced that I had experienced massage/facial/body wrap several times. I knew that it would make me feel good for the rest of the day, maybe two, but in a few days it would be a memory and there would be no surprises. Maybe by trying something new I could gain something more and really, I had nothing to lose.
The day of my package turned out to be the best day I'd had in longer than I could remember. I walked into that day spa carrying a heaviness which was so profound I'm sure it was visible, and had what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders. I hadn't been anything resembling happy in months. Three hours later, I bounced out feeling light and happy, with a new lease on life and a new skill I still use as often as I possibly can because it's so therapeutic: the ability to meditate.
I wasn't "cured". There were still going to be rough days ahead, but I downloaded a collection of guided meditations from iTunes, some relaxing music, joined a weekend group meditation class, and I was well on my way. I had a new way of calming myself down during my most stressed moments, which I immediately started applying... maybe five to six times out of ten, but increasing over time as I have become better at reminding myself how helpful this is for me and use it more and more. I can't give meditation enough praise - it clears my head of all the thoughts I can sometimes get bogged down in and it calms me and it helps me to remember that the simplest things in life are often the truest and most important. With meditation, I gain clarity and perspective.
Talking
This one was not too hard for me, to a point. I like to talk (surprise, much?) I gain great peace through talking things through and I know that to talk about thoughts is to get them out of your head (which really is the worst place to keep them, when they are negative). Therefore I probably found talking to people more easy than some, but in the early days there was so much I didn't say because of shame, and actually, because it was also really hard for me to even work out for myself what I was feeling, much less express it to another person.
I tested the waters by sort of telling my husband sort of how I was feeling in a sort of indirect kind of way. That went well, so I told a bit more. And then a friend, I told a bit more, and my sister, a bit more. But for the most part, I carried a heavy burden on my own and tried to work out in my own head where I was at, what I was feeling and whether my thoughts/feelings were "normal". This is difficult because doing this you don't tend to gain a lot of perspective, you're bouncing off your own worst critic, and it takes up a lot of energy which you don't really have a lot of when you become a new mother. But in hindsight I was profoundly confused, and I was also proud. I wanted to do this job and do it well, and I didn't want everyone to know how badly I was struggling.
When I finally got tired of putting energy I didn't have into putting on a facade, allowed myself to be vulnerable and stopped pretending that I was coping as well as I badly wanted to be coping, I opened up to the people in my life and suddenly a weight was lifted from my shoulders. My family and friends were more supportive and understanding than I could have ever given them credit for. What a surprise it was to realise that I didn't have to now go about proving to everyone that just because I was suffering Post Natal Depression this didn't mean I was a "basket case", they already knew it! They knew me and what I was capable of. They had more faith in me than I realised and, as I also discovered, more than I had in myself.
Opening up to other mums was difficult because I internally pitted myself against them and never felt that I measured up. But once I did, it turned out to be particularly helpful because I actually found that they were able to relate to at least parts of my battle (and those they didn't seem to relate to they certainly didn't seem to judge me on), and would in turn tell me about a time when........ *insert mental image of super-mum having lost all composure, sitting on her front porch, head thrown back, howling up at the sky*.....no way! Suddenly I realised that quite a lot of the time, I had been grappling with guilt over feelings and thoughts which were actually quite normal. Upon opening up, I gained a better perspective and more faith that I could tackle this. I also finally felt free of this secret! I am an honest person to a fault. I can't lie to save myself. I am frustratingly transparent, even when I don't want to be. It caused me significant stress (on top of my existing stress) to not be honest about how I was feeling, and once I finally opened up, the relief was immense and there was no stopping me. As well as talking to those closest to me I spoke to my GP, I spoke to my Maternal Child & Health nurse, and a damn good counsellor...
Counselling
Finding a counsellor who works for you is like finding a hairdresser who works for you. It can take time and some searching, and you may end up with an orange mushroom head so many times that you vow never to visit a salon again, but when you find one who fits - oh, does it make the search worthwhile! My counsellor is excellent for me. She identifies with what I go through, she helps me make sense of confusing thoughts in my head, and best of all, she helps me see my strengths, has taught me to accept myself as I am and with her help I certainly like myself a lot more than I did, even before I was suffering PND. My thoughts are so much easier to sort through with her guidance, and my problem-solving skills (which I have realised are quite good when my head isn't clouded by fog) are exercised far more often than the problem-dwelling part of me (which we all have) which tends to forget that there is a way out.
I never felt pressured to talk about anything I was not ready to, but I knew that the more I put in, the more I'd get out. I was in the drivers seat and she was my navigator. Initially I talked to her about my biggest fears which came with being a mother. My relationships with people in my life and communication breakdowns. My faults which I struggled to forgive myself for. My darkest thoughts. Everything which was too scary to say to anyone else. No judgement, no criticism. Nowadays I still see her once a month or so, just to check-in. We now talk about the fact that I'll be going back to work soon and how I feel about it. The small victories I have from day-to-day in beating the anxiety demons. The facebook friend that I un-friended because their attitude toward life stunk, and "does this mean I'm being intolerant?" I can see that soon I won't be needing to go to her at all. But I know I can always go back if any time in the future I feel like I need a tune-up and that's a comforting thought.
Education
Learning what goes on neurologically during moments of anxiety was an enormous help for me. I read. I talked to professionals. I gained perspective and knowledge of exactly what happens in my brain when the fight/flight response is triggered in my head. With gaining this knowledge, I stopped fearing the fear. I was able to remind myself during moments of panic, fear, anxiety, that the shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat, drop in cognitive thinking, was uncomfortable (to say the least), was unpleasant, but not actually harmful and nothing bad could come of it. I realised that to fear it was to make it stronger, and more frequently occurring. I reasoned that I could "freak out" and try and hide from it (but it would find me anyway), or I could challenge myself to see how I would deal better with it "next time". Once I accepted this and stopped trying to escape it, it subsided. I'm not an expert on the human brain and I may not know exactly how it all works, but my understanding of my neurological responses has helped me remove myself emotionally and I will put more information in my own words and how I understand it to be another time.
Everything else
As I said in the beginning, I was relentless in searching for a "cure" for what I was going through. I wanted to "get happy", and once we had a title and a diagnosis for what was stopping me, I was determined to kick it in the backside good and proper and don't-let-the-door-hit-your-arse-on-the-way-out. Where I found the energy I'll never know, but I ran myself ragged trying everything which I thought could possibly help; I eventually threw the baby rule book out the window and found a way to feed/settle/care for my baby in a way that worked for me. As simply as I may put it, this was actually one of the toughest challenges for me because, of course, I believed I had no idea how to do the mum job "right" and someone else out there surely knew better than I did, but bit-by-bit I managed to switch off the external voices, find my own way and found a way to believing that I would not do my baby wrong. With this, I gained some confidence in myself as a mother - finally!
I decided to put my baby into day-care one day a week to give myself a break. I followed a good healthy diet with vitamin-rich foods and an eating regime reported to help bring my white blood cells back up (I lost a lot of blood in the birth - another trigger for PND). I stayed away from alcohol and caffeine. I took flaxseed oil (said to re-balance hormones), I took St John's Wort (used as a natural remedy for anxiety) I walked my baby every morning and tried to make sure I got exercise & sunshine daily. I socialised; mothers group, rhyme-time at the library, and when nobody else was around and nothing was on, and I needed to get out of the house, I took my baby and I found a nice little restaurant to eat lunch.
I had heard about acupuncture, and decided to try it, and actually I believe that this was one of the main things which helped me with my insomnia, one symptom above all which felt completely out of my control. I can't say this was the cure for sure, but the insomnia hung around for weeks, even months after the anxiety attack, and the fact is that after my second acupuncture session, I went to bed and slept solid through the whole night. But I don't know 100% if this can be attributed to the acupuncture, or the final (and most difficult) step of all:
Acceptance
At around the same time I had acupuncture, I reached a point where my patience was wearing thin. I was doing everything within my power to sort this out, I was proactive, I was working harder at this than I'd ever worked at anything in my life. I'd exercised more patience than I'd ever exercised before, but It had been months! And yes, I was feeling better in a lot of ways, but I was still missing the love. Still missing the lightning bolt, and goddamn it, still not able to sleep! My baby was sleeping, my husband was sleeping, but I wasn't sleeping, and I was exhausted. I love my sleep with a passion which can be only matched with my passion for a creamy, soft, French double cream brie, and I was sure that if I could just get a good nights sleep then surely I would start to feel better. I rang my counsellor in the hope that we could nut it out and find a cure for my insomnia, and wasn't prepared for the advice I received; Slow down! Accept it.
This was incredibly difficult for me to get my head around because, well, I really, really "needed" sleep! And I felt like crap. And I was miserable. And I viewed accepting any of this as resigning myself to it. Why should I, how do I accept this, without allowing it to "win"? My counsellor helped me to see that I was doing everything in my power to improve my health, and all the work I was doing was indeed making a big difference, but there were some things which were simply out of my control. And with these things, there was nothing to do but let it be and give it time. And not the amount of time I felt it should take, but as much time as it decided to take, because it wasn't going to obey my wishes, no matter how badly I wanted it to.
This was hard. Really hard. I had to learn to "dance in the storm" and let go. Let go of the desperate need to sleep for more than three hours at a time. Let go of the idea of the "lightning bolt". Let go of the need to control the things which I was never going to be able to control. Have I mentioned that by nature I am a control-freak? Plus I wanted happiness more than anything, more than I'd ever wanted it before. It felt impossible.
But, once I finally learned to accept that there were just some things I wasn't going to change, I found that I did indeed feel gradually happier. And it spilled over into other parts of my life. I discovered that, just like that, I stopped working myself up over nights when my baby was unsettled with a head cold/teething/mystery ailment and " I really, just very badly want him to sleep through tonight" (because if I wanted it desperately enough, maybe it would happen? Afraid not) and instead, I somehow managed to take each unsettled moment as it came, knowing that I couldn't fight or change it, managing to just getting up and doing what had to be done because I wasn't going to wish it away, and complaining about it sure didn't make it more fun. Of course I knew all this before, and had often tried telling myself this in the past, to no avail, but somehow once I managed to exercise acceptance, it became easier to put it into practice.
Even now, when I'm in situations of extreme stress, like a few weeks ago, for example, when I witnessed a man being assaulted in the street, I have become very good at recognising the anxiety which is triggered, calming myself and handling the things that are within my control, but on the flip side, while I recognised my old friend insomnia when it returned for a few nights, I acknowledged it, pushed through the fatigue, accepted that it would go away once it ran its course and went about my business without putting any energy (which was better conserved for use in functioning as a mother) into trying to change it. And within a few nights, I slept again.
Of course I'm still a work in progress, and the truth as I've come to realise it, is that I will be for as long as I'm here. I'm not perfect, no-one is. I have faults. I still have bad days, and when I do this doesn't mean that I am a statistic of PND, it means that I am human.
For example, only yesterday my baby decided that naps were not for him, just for a day. I was handling it beautifully through the first nap-time. Persevered for as long as I was comfortable with until I gracefully accepted that, no, there will be no nap this morning. I got him out of bed, re-adjusted my day and carried on. The afternoon nap-time, however, was a process which began with many re-settling attempts, much deep-breathing (so much I nearly passed out), counting, soft tones, repeating very rational mantras to myself, and ended with my husband walking in the house to find me sitting on the couch, pulling at my hair and telling him I was about to seriously lose my shit (along with possibly some more colourful language). I let him take over and deal with Crying Baby while I checked out of reality for a while and lay on the couch, just waiting for the frustration to subside. What do you know, I'm not a robot. This is motherhood. It was a bad moment, but didn't become a bad day. And the way I see it, I had a great win in the morning rather than a loss in the afternoon. But, just quietly, thank goodness today is a day-care day (Yes, I said it. it's ok).
Today, I vow to try and do better than yesterday. Tomorrow, I vow to try and do better than today. Some days I may succeed, some days I may find myself pacing the house, counting to ten, again, again, again, a-fricking-gain, and wondering whether the people in the white coats will just pull up already and take me somewhere far quieter.
Happiness is not a destination, it is a journey.
In yours, I wish you guidance and strength.
Follow me on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SheWoreATechnicolourRibbon
AnXiEtYYY!
Well, I promised that, another day, I would give you a more in-depth insight into my personal experience of anxiety and PND, and I feel that this is a topic which is still in need of so much more awareness, so here it is:
A common question I am asked when I tell people that I was diagnosed with PND/anxiety, is "Were you an anxious type of person before (having the baby)?". Good question. Really good question. It's a question I've heard a few times now, and still I am not sure what the answer is. Yes, I suppose I had some anxieties. More than normal? well, what is normal? The overwhelming sense of panic I'd feel (insert heart racing, heat rising in my face, sweaty palms) when I would email a document to the collective Upper Management group of my company, and suddenly realise I'd made an embarrassing error to which I had little choice but to own up? The way my hands would shake during (and for some time after) a confrontation with someone? My struggles to sleep when my husband was working the night shift?
How about, for as long as I can remember, if I'm walking down the street and I hear footsteps close behind I tighten my grip, just slightly, on the handle of my handbag and casually look into the shop window next to me to see the reflection of the person who has stepped inside my comfort zone. Is this normal? I don't know... I don't think it's abnormal. I used to live in the city. I witnessed bag snatches more than once. I don't necessarily believe that every person who walks too close behind me is going to snatch my bag, but if by chance they do, I'd like to at least have a chance to hold it tight in my hand for a moment before I submit completely and let them take what they want, as long as they don't hurt me. Or touch me. Or yell at me.
Seriously, though, generally I can't say I've seen myself as an anxious sort of person, no. I don't recall ever letting anxiety stop me from doing something I really wanted. I felt I had a healthy, self-preserving level of anxiety. However, after giving birth, my anxiety levels spiked from "healthy" to something which became quite extreme. But again, what is a normal level of anxiety to have after one introduces a baby into ones home? I had no idea (and this was something I could add to the long list of everything else I suddenly had no idea about when I became a mother. How could I not be anxious?!).
It took a long time for me to work out that things were definitely not right for me. I had a preconceived idea of what depression was, and although I certainly wasn't anything resembling happy, I partially wondered if this was because I'd made a colossal mistake in thinking I wanted or could do this job, and was in way over my head. I believed that a big part of the reason I was anxious was because I was doing a terrible job (when in reality, I thought I was doing a terrible job because I was anxious). I felt that if I could just get a handle on this job, maybe I'd be ok. But I had no idea what to do. I had heard so much about "trusting my instincts" What instincts? Honestly, the only instinct I had in the early days was to grab a bag of my things and run. Run far, far, far away to a quiet, cosy, warm, safe place and never return.
My head was a mass of confusion, and the only thing I knew with absolute certainty, was that I suddenly hated my life. I hated every moment of it. On top of this, I was convinced that I was ruining my baby with my unhappiness. We've all heard the old adage: relaxed mum = relaxed baby, but I was anything but relaxed. Surely I wasn't fooling him with this ridiculously desperate sing-song-look-at-me-I'm-so-happy-so-very-very-happy voice I put on, any more than I was fooling myself. My misery had rubbed off on this little "emotional sponge" of a creature. They 'sense' so much, surely he sensed that all I wanted was to be away from him. Failure. I'd created an environment that no baby could possibly thrive in. Oh, the pressure I was putting on myself...
We humans have the most remarkable nature in which, rather than supporting, nurturing and being kind to ourselves in our most needy moments, we kick ourselves while we are down. I am generally not the kind of person who looks back in regret and thinks about what "coulda, shoulda, woulda", but one thing I would change during this time, in hindsight, is that I would have been far kinder to myself. I was suffering, and I could have greatly helped myself through it had I reminded myself of my strengths and virtues rather than telling myself that everything I was doing was wrong. I internalised everything and was desperately unhappy.
Physical symptoms of my depression were quite textbook: insomnia, fatigue (well, of course!), headaches, dry mouth, abdominal pain, and to add to my despair, loss of appetite. This was really just salt in the wound for someone with a passion for food like myself, I put energy, which would have been better used just getting from the start of the day to the end of the day, into trying to recapture my appetite in those early days, desperate to hang onto the love of something from "before". Nothing tasted as good as it did before. Nothing went down well any more. My favourite foods just made me feel ill. In the big picture, this seems like quite a thing to fixate on, but it seemed that even the few things which I was still able to "enjoy" as a new mum, I wasn't enjoying, and I felt I'd lost everything from my former life.
To add to my pain, I was one of the parents who, as is actually very common (and particularly in cases of high anxiety/depression), took a very long time to bond with my baby. I had heard that many parents can take time to fall in love with their babies, so I had prepared myself, to a degree. What I was not prepared for, was how painfully long it would take (especially since I was 'following the rules' and being so patient, which is not at all in my nature), and I still believed that the Lightning Bolt would hit me, someday. I tried all the bonding tips, but reminded myself that it still might take time, I talked in soft tones (when I wasn't completely freaking out) and reminded myself daily how lucky I was to have a healthy, gorgeous baby, I kissed, held, spoke to him even at times when I didn't feel like it, all there was left was to wait patiently for the lightning bolt to come and strike me.
I tried so hard. I told myself to remain patient, but of course I wanted desperately to fall head-over-heels in love with my baby, who was, without a doubt (not a hint of bias here, of course) one incredibly cute baby. But the feeling still eluded me. Not for days, not for weeks, but months. More months than I bargained for and more than I'd ever heard about. I felt miserable, stressed and trapped and I became increasingly distressed, increasingly frustrated and increasingly pissed off. I alternated between being pissed off with myself, pissed off with people in my life, current and past, pissed off with "The Universe", just, pissed off. I felt that I'd been dealt some shit in life, but I was a good person and this was so unfair, oh but what else did I expect? of course I shouldn't have expected this to be good and easy for me. Yes, there was a pity party going on at my house and I was Guest-of-Honour and sole attendee. With my diagnosis and treatment I was relentless in searching for a "cure", but by far my biggest struggle was acceptance. But more on that another time.
I didn't cry very often (see? I don't have depression!) but I did occasionally have meltdowns, the contents of which I won't get into, as they are a little more than I'm comfortable sharing with the general public, nobody was harmed during these moments, and besides, the thoughts I had were no more helpful now than they were at the time I was having them. but I believe most people can relate to having moments where they lose rationale and perspective, I was just having them frequently, and intensely, and compared to what I am usually like, I was not able to talk a lot of sense into myself at the time.
Finally, one morning at 3am, I woke in the midst of a panic attack (my first, and only one), and the aftershocks of this episode stayed with me for days following. I was a different person in the blink of an eye. I didn't want to leave the house, I didn't want to stay home, the slightest noise made me jump out of my skin and there was a general air of feeling afraid and unsafe with no real reason. This was terrifying, and it was the moment when I realised that this problem was bigger than me and I needed help, fast. I pulled in all my resources and thank goodness I had my sister to come and stay with me during this time and provide the therapeutic combination of an ear when I needed to talk it through, a distraction when I'd had enough of thinking about the whole darn thing, and a laugh when I didn't realise how badly I needed one. In the midst of these dark moments, it is very hard to see a way out. It's hard (seemingly impossible) to believe that things are ever going to get better. But they did. Eventually, with a lot of hard work and more patience than I can remember ever exercising in my life before, things got better.
Read about the steps I took towards my recovery here.
Follow me on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SheWoreATechnicolourRibbon
Friday 7 June 2013
Open letter to new mums, old mums, and anyone who knows mums.
I remember it well: A conversation between a group of women. A new mum tiredly recounting the 6 weeks which have been the beginning of her new life and trying to put into words how much everything has changed in such a short space of time for her. The 'veteran' mum in the group gives her a knowing look and declares "You know one good thing that happens when you have a baby? the sex becomes FABULOUS!''. This is met by a look of confusion from the new mum and "Really...?!", "Yes!" nods the veteran mum enthusiastically. "I don't know what happens, but something changes and sex becomes just.... fabulous!".
Some mums may read this little pearl of wisdom and nod in agreement. Others may tilt their head to the side, drop their mouth in confusion and murmur "huh??''. The truth is, that this was quite an inaccurate generalisation and veteran mum was really just sharing her own experience. Which in itself is not a bad thing, quite the contrary. But veteran mum made the mistake of assuming "this is how it was for me, so this is how it will be for you" which, I may add, was probably unlikely. Veteran mum was in the minority of women who experience this remarkable shift in their body. I wonder if the new mum headed off in anticipation of the best sex of her life to begin, only to find that she was so depleted of estrogen (as many new mums are for quite some time) that not only was sex not pleasurable for her, it was quite painful. Did she wonder what had gone wrong with her lady bits that she wasn't having this "fabulous" sex she was meant to be having?
Now I will share some of my experience. Not of the bedroom variety, that is for another day with another audience not of the public forum. No, I refer to my experience of becoming a new mum; I was diagnosed with Postnatal Depression when my baby was four months old. What I was suffering, predominantly, was Anxiety, coupled with Depression. The blanket diagnosis for this at the time was Postnatal Depression, which was a big factor in my taking some time to recognize the problem, as I had a preconceived idea of what Depression is, and that certainly was not what I was experiencing. But my personal experience of Anxiety, what I learned about it, how it can affect people differently and what worked for me on my road to recovery is also another topic for another day. I don't write this story to gain support, sympathy or accolades. I have received wonderful support from my family and friends and am happy to report that I am doing remarkably well and currently feeling quite content with my life as it is, even with the challenges I faced to get here (which I never thought I'd hear myself say). But I digress: My aim with this post is to explain to mums that your experience of motherhood is yours alone and telling another mum "how it is" based on your experience is not only inaccurate, it can cause a great deal of confusion for a mum trying to navigate her own path.
During my early days of motherhood I was panicked, stressed and too bewildered to bask in the 'glow' of this new life I had created. I berated myself, doubted myself and second-guessed everything I felt and did. But without a doubt, one of the hardest things to get my head around was the information and expectations delivered to me by others. Their words floated around in my head like accusations of where everything was going wrong for me. I most certainly didn't experience the "lightning bolt" overwhelming rush of love the moment my baby was placed in my arms I'd heard all about, and joy? what joy? In the weeks and months following his birth, I was bombarded by, undoubtedly well-meaning, but completely inaccurate assumptions: "isn't it just THE most amazing thing?!" "you must be on cloud nine" "did you ever believe you could love anyone so utterly and completely?" I was heartbroken. Every time someone flashed me an excited, expectant grin, coupled with the words "so, are you loving it?!" a knife twisted in my gut. Not to mention the well-worn piece of advice, "enjoy it, it goes so fast!" Stop right there. I'm sorry, but I'm either going to enjoy it, or I'm not. I didn't enjoy it one little bit, and people telling me to enjoy it didn't make it so. In fact it left me feeling like I "should'' enjoy it, and was all kinds of wrong not to, I felt that this precious time was being wasted on unhappiness, and it sent my anxiety levels skyward. This was out of my control and I felt ashamed. I felt abnormal. Above all, I felt robbed and angry that I wasn't having "someone else's" experience and was instead stuck with my own. Ordinarily I am not one to measure myself against others and generally I beat my own path through life, often to the point of rebellion, but this was all new to me. I was vulnerable, lost and didn't realise that what I was experiencing was quite common. My belief was that other peoples' experience was "how it should be", not this. I felt that I was sinking and was desperately looking for a life raft. I wanted the answer from someone who knew better than me. Other mums, naturally.
In case my public opening up on this issue doesn't make it clear, I am a reasonably open and honest sort of person, so I (eventually after some resistance, as I am also quite proud) did open up to quite a few friends and family members. The support of these people will remain one of my favourite memories of my early days of motherhood for as long as I live. I saw strengths, understanding and empathy in the people I love that I didn't even realise they possessed until I allowed myself to become more vulnerable than I'd ever been before. But again, I am going off-topic. Unfortunately, in conversations I had with some people, I found myself again on the receiving end of advice from people who genuinely wanted to help, but really did not have any idea of what I was personally going through: "You get through the first six weeks, you're home and hosed". After six weeks, I was no better. Possibly worse. "oh, it's only after the first three months that you actually start to relax and really enjoy the whole thing" OK! three months it is. Then another. "from four months on is where it starts getting really fun" then "six months". I desperately wanted to believe them. I strongly followed positive thinking, and with all of this advice, I kept telling myself to push through, be patient and just ride it out until my baby reaches a certain age and then it'll get better. But it didn't. And each time it wore me down more, and left me feeling more lost and robbed and wondering when, or even if, it would get better. Let me make one thing clear; There is no magic number. The age my baby was when I finally started to find joy in life and enjoy him is not something I will share, as it's not relevant and is only my experience, and it didn't come to me through waiting for it to happen, it came from me working with a counsellor and taking various steps to clear the fog from my head. Also, in my experience, there was never a lightning-bolt rush of love which hit me out of the blue. My falling in love with my son took quite some time, and initially presented itself in small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moments of warm affection and genuine giggling at the cute things he did. And I almost did miss it, because I was still waiting for the lightning bolt.
Now I know I may seem like I am being pretty hard on people here. "what do I say, then?" I hear you ask. "Do I not talk about how joyful it is for fear of upsetting someone?" absolutely not. I am, and always have been, genuinely happy for any mother who had any of the above experiences. Your experience is equally as valid as anyone else's and you should feel free to share each and every moment you wish to. Let me also clarify that I absolutely am aware that everyone meant well. I know they were trying to be positive and I know that each person who told me "how it is", genuinely believed that their experience is how it is for everyone. But I'm here to tell you that if you assume that somebody else's experience will be the same as yours, you will possibly find that a struggling mother will never tell you about her battles because she will be feeling shame and because you have, albeit unintentionally, shown her that you have other expectations of her.
The advice I give is what helped for me: Share. Talk. Exchange experience. Freely reminisce over the times you loved the most. But just remember to let the other person know that this was how it was for you and is not the case for everybody. And don't be afraid to let her know about a bad day you once had. Every mother has them, and if you try to appear on top of it all the time and never show moments of weakness, you may succeed so well that you leave others feeling inadequate. Ask her how she's feeling, don't ever assume she is loving it, and if she lets you know that she is struggling, assess her situation. Find out if she is just having a bad day or if she really feels so low that perhaps she might need to talk to her GP/Maternal Child & Health Nurse/other resource. Let her know she is not alone and her feelings are quite common. She is not abnormal. And the only piece of unasked-for advice I suggest you give to a struggling mum is: "let me know if you ever need anything at all".
I will include the number for PANDA (Post and Ante Natal Depression Association) if any mothers feel that they are struggling to cope. Whether you think you may have PND or are simply having a bad day, the women are happy to talk with any mums about any challenges they are facing, big or small, and I found them to be a great source of support and assistance on my road to recovery. I am also more than happy to listen and answer any questions anyone may have for me regarding my own recovery and what I have found particularly helpful throughout the process.
PANDA - 1300 726 306
Now I will end with three things I learned about myself recently.
1. The anxiety and depression I suffered was not time wasted. I did not "miss out" on joy, it just took time to reach me and now that I am feeling happier, I am not left wishing I could get back the months I've "lost" (this was one of my biggest fears and something I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself with).
2. I love my son with every beat of my heart and will love him for the rest of forever.
3. (after arguing with my husband over a photo taken of my baby when he was a few days old "Weird-looking? are you kidding me?? this is one of my favourites! he was adorable!") Even in my darkest days when I thought there was nothing good and no joy in any of it, the truth was, I was already so biased that I thought my squishy new-born baby was ridiculously good-looking.
It's been a good week :)
Read more on my experience and journey toward recovery here
Follow me on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SheWoreATechnicolourRibbon
I remember it well: A conversation between a group of women. A new mum tiredly recounting the 6 weeks which have been the beginning of her new life and trying to put into words how much everything has changed in such a short space of time for her. The 'veteran' mum in the group gives her a knowing look and declares "You know one good thing that happens when you have a baby? the sex becomes FABULOUS!''. This is met by a look of confusion from the new mum and "Really...?!", "Yes!" nods the veteran mum enthusiastically. "I don't know what happens, but something changes and sex becomes just.... fabulous!".
Some mums may read this little pearl of wisdom and nod in agreement. Others may tilt their head to the side, drop their mouth in confusion and murmur "huh??''. The truth is, that this was quite an inaccurate generalisation and veteran mum was really just sharing her own experience. Which in itself is not a bad thing, quite the contrary. But veteran mum made the mistake of assuming "this is how it was for me, so this is how it will be for you" which, I may add, was probably unlikely. Veteran mum was in the minority of women who experience this remarkable shift in their body. I wonder if the new mum headed off in anticipation of the best sex of her life to begin, only to find that she was so depleted of estrogen (as many new mums are for quite some time) that not only was sex not pleasurable for her, it was quite painful. Did she wonder what had gone wrong with her lady bits that she wasn't having this "fabulous" sex she was meant to be having?
Now I will share some of my experience. Not of the bedroom variety, that is for another day with another audience not of the public forum. No, I refer to my experience of becoming a new mum; I was diagnosed with Postnatal Depression when my baby was four months old. What I was suffering, predominantly, was Anxiety, coupled with Depression. The blanket diagnosis for this at the time was Postnatal Depression, which was a big factor in my taking some time to recognize the problem, as I had a preconceived idea of what Depression is, and that certainly was not what I was experiencing. But my personal experience of Anxiety, what I learned about it, how it can affect people differently and what worked for me on my road to recovery is also another topic for another day. I don't write this story to gain support, sympathy or accolades. I have received wonderful support from my family and friends and am happy to report that I am doing remarkably well and currently feeling quite content with my life as it is, even with the challenges I faced to get here (which I never thought I'd hear myself say). But I digress: My aim with this post is to explain to mums that your experience of motherhood is yours alone and telling another mum "how it is" based on your experience is not only inaccurate, it can cause a great deal of confusion for a mum trying to navigate her own path.
During my early days of motherhood I was panicked, stressed and too bewildered to bask in the 'glow' of this new life I had created. I berated myself, doubted myself and second-guessed everything I felt and did. But without a doubt, one of the hardest things to get my head around was the information and expectations delivered to me by others. Their words floated around in my head like accusations of where everything was going wrong for me. I most certainly didn't experience the "lightning bolt" overwhelming rush of love the moment my baby was placed in my arms I'd heard all about, and joy? what joy? In the weeks and months following his birth, I was bombarded by, undoubtedly well-meaning, but completely inaccurate assumptions: "isn't it just THE most amazing thing?!" "you must be on cloud nine" "did you ever believe you could love anyone so utterly and completely?" I was heartbroken. Every time someone flashed me an excited, expectant grin, coupled with the words "so, are you loving it?!" a knife twisted in my gut. Not to mention the well-worn piece of advice, "enjoy it, it goes so fast!" Stop right there. I'm sorry, but I'm either going to enjoy it, or I'm not. I didn't enjoy it one little bit, and people telling me to enjoy it didn't make it so. In fact it left me feeling like I "should'' enjoy it, and was all kinds of wrong not to, I felt that this precious time was being wasted on unhappiness, and it sent my anxiety levels skyward. This was out of my control and I felt ashamed. I felt abnormal. Above all, I felt robbed and angry that I wasn't having "someone else's" experience and was instead stuck with my own. Ordinarily I am not one to measure myself against others and generally I beat my own path through life, often to the point of rebellion, but this was all new to me. I was vulnerable, lost and didn't realise that what I was experiencing was quite common. My belief was that other peoples' experience was "how it should be", not this. I felt that I was sinking and was desperately looking for a life raft. I wanted the answer from someone who knew better than me. Other mums, naturally.
In case my public opening up on this issue doesn't make it clear, I am a reasonably open and honest sort of person, so I (eventually after some resistance, as I am also quite proud) did open up to quite a few friends and family members. The support of these people will remain one of my favourite memories of my early days of motherhood for as long as I live. I saw strengths, understanding and empathy in the people I love that I didn't even realise they possessed until I allowed myself to become more vulnerable than I'd ever been before. But again, I am going off-topic. Unfortunately, in conversations I had with some people, I found myself again on the receiving end of advice from people who genuinely wanted to help, but really did not have any idea of what I was personally going through: "You get through the first six weeks, you're home and hosed". After six weeks, I was no better. Possibly worse. "oh, it's only after the first three months that you actually start to relax and really enjoy the whole thing" OK! three months it is. Then another. "from four months on is where it starts getting really fun" then "six months". I desperately wanted to believe them. I strongly followed positive thinking, and with all of this advice, I kept telling myself to push through, be patient and just ride it out until my baby reaches a certain age and then it'll get better. But it didn't. And each time it wore me down more, and left me feeling more lost and robbed and wondering when, or even if, it would get better. Let me make one thing clear; There is no magic number. The age my baby was when I finally started to find joy in life and enjoy him is not something I will share, as it's not relevant and is only my experience, and it didn't come to me through waiting for it to happen, it came from me working with a counsellor and taking various steps to clear the fog from my head. Also, in my experience, there was never a lightning-bolt rush of love which hit me out of the blue. My falling in love with my son took quite some time, and initially presented itself in small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moments of warm affection and genuine giggling at the cute things he did. And I almost did miss it, because I was still waiting for the lightning bolt.
Now I know I may seem like I am being pretty hard on people here. "what do I say, then?" I hear you ask. "Do I not talk about how joyful it is for fear of upsetting someone?" absolutely not. I am, and always have been, genuinely happy for any mother who had any of the above experiences. Your experience is equally as valid as anyone else's and you should feel free to share each and every moment you wish to. Let me also clarify that I absolutely am aware that everyone meant well. I know they were trying to be positive and I know that each person who told me "how it is", genuinely believed that their experience is how it is for everyone. But I'm here to tell you that if you assume that somebody else's experience will be the same as yours, you will possibly find that a struggling mother will never tell you about her battles because she will be feeling shame and because you have, albeit unintentionally, shown her that you have other expectations of her.
The advice I give is what helped for me: Share. Talk. Exchange experience. Freely reminisce over the times you loved the most. But just remember to let the other person know that this was how it was for you and is not the case for everybody. And don't be afraid to let her know about a bad day you once had. Every mother has them, and if you try to appear on top of it all the time and never show moments of weakness, you may succeed so well that you leave others feeling inadequate. Ask her how she's feeling, don't ever assume she is loving it, and if she lets you know that she is struggling, assess her situation. Find out if she is just having a bad day or if she really feels so low that perhaps she might need to talk to her GP/Maternal Child & Health Nurse/other resource. Let her know she is not alone and her feelings are quite common. She is not abnormal. And the only piece of unasked-for advice I suggest you give to a struggling mum is: "let me know if you ever need anything at all".
I will include the number for PANDA (Post and Ante Natal Depression Association) if any mothers feel that they are struggling to cope. Whether you think you may have PND or are simply having a bad day, the women are happy to talk with any mums about any challenges they are facing, big or small, and I found them to be a great source of support and assistance on my road to recovery. I am also more than happy to listen and answer any questions anyone may have for me regarding my own recovery and what I have found particularly helpful throughout the process.
PANDA - 1300 726 306
Now I will end with three things I learned about myself recently.
1. The anxiety and depression I suffered was not time wasted. I did not "miss out" on joy, it just took time to reach me and now that I am feeling happier, I am not left wishing I could get back the months I've "lost" (this was one of my biggest fears and something I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself with).
2. I love my son with every beat of my heart and will love him for the rest of forever.
3. (after arguing with my husband over a photo taken of my baby when he was a few days old "Weird-looking? are you kidding me?? this is one of my favourites! he was adorable!") Even in my darkest days when I thought there was nothing good and no joy in any of it, the truth was, I was already so biased that I thought my squishy new-born baby was ridiculously good-looking.
It's been a good week :)
Read more on my experience and journey toward recovery here
Follow me on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SheWoreATechnicolourRibbon
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