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