The Dark, Dark Days of Motherhood - A personal account of PND

Pregnant at 21, depression was already a friend of mine. In fact, it had been throughout my teenage years. My pregnancy was something that I look back on with great fondness. I was so excited to be moving on in my life and instantly, upon finding out I was pregnant fell deeply, madly in love with this growing being inside me. It did not matter that my relationship was far from perfect (in fact doomed to failure), that I was to go to my graduation pregnant, or that my prospects didn't seem good. All that mattered was this life growing inside me.

I read everything I could get my hands on. I meditated daily upon positive images, surrounding my baby-to-be in my love and light. I mentally went through the birthing process, knowing that the pain could be handled if I could just do mind over matter. I planned a homebirth with my midwife. I was young, I was strong, I was confident.

My first shock came with the actual birth. Born four weeks prem, I was required to deliver at the hospital. The entire delivery took two and a half hours. It took an hour to reach transition stage, and then a further hour and a half to deliver my baby boy.
I learned that my mind could not control the pain. It was a hideously painful experience that shook everything that I had believed in. There were people in the room that had not been planned, and for a long, long time I was devastated as I felt I had been 'taken advantage of' in my vulnerable, painful state.

Shock number two. My baby was a boy. A boy! To me, males were the cause of pain and heartache and now I had one that I would love unconditionally. I didn't know the good side of a male. I was swamped with historical pain. I would have to relearn what it meant to love a male.

Shock number three. The blood loss. I didn't know at the time that I had lost more than normal. At my six week check up I was still bleeding. It went on for almost four months, and I didn't know that this was not ok.

Shock number four. My body. I felt that it had betrayed me in the process of labour. That I had given it all the tools and yet it still felt like someone had poked me with a white-hot burning for an hour and a half. I thought of those who go through that much pain in either a car accident or illness and the support or understanding they get from it. Yet, mine was from birth. A natural, normal event. It didn't require talking about. I wanted to escape my body that had betrayed me so very badly.

Within a few short weeks, my relationship had dissolved. I moved several times, including overseas to return to live with my mum and dad. And then back again. Always on the search to uncover the mysterious feeling I had. Or, perhaps I should say, non-feeling.

The Plunket nurse would come and visit and do a 'checklist' to see if I was depressed. I lied throughout, though I have no idea why. I think I figured that I should be doing better than what I was. I felt so very, very alone. None of my friends had babies, my family was overseas and there was this beautiful blonde blue eyed boy that I loved more than anything.

I moved in with my best friend. She used to come home from work and give him his dinner. She'd help me put him to bed. But still I was going downhill. I was surrounded by people but nobody knew what I was going through internally. If you were to meet me, you would understand. I appear stronger than my sensitive nature espouses. I'm up for anything. An opinion about anything. I go and go and go.

The weight started to fall off. I dropped to below 50kgs (I'm 5"8). And it continued to fall. I tried to make everything better with the boys biological father but he didn't. Just didn't.

I kept up appearances. Meanwhile, I was in tatters. Until the night it all came unbundled. I came unbundled. I can barely even talk about that night now. In fact, I won't. Suffice to say, I ended up spending a week in bed, staring at a wall and waiting to die. I figured that I had failed my son so very, very badly that death was exactly what I deserved. I talked to my boys father and said he needed to be adopted out. I thought that I was such a failure as a mother and he deserved so much more than I could ever offer him. I went to the doctor and was put on medication. I was still struggling, still trying to piece together how something so wonderfully amazing, how someONE so amazing had brought me to this state. I loved him. With all my heart and all my soul I loved him. But I had failed him so terribly badly.

I returned to Australia, to move in with my parents. My mother was worried as she thought that I had been abused - I was covered in bruises and so very, very thin. No abuse, but that which I had given myself. I rarely cried. I rarely ate. I got through everyday by managing hour by hour.

The story continued for years. There were good days, bad days and gradually they stretched out so that good times would last longer....and here is my confession. PND is painful, it hurts, it is debilitating. But when does PND end and depression begin? I don't know. I received maternal mental health support with babe's two and three, but was in a small town for number four so there was no such help available.

My battle through depression (now accompanied with anxiety) continues. I'm opening up the pathway to allow others to admit to their experiences, to open up the void of secrecy and to share the burden with each other. We are not alone.

There are many who do not understand. Here are some quotes from people whilst I have been depressed:

" Just get up and get on with life"
" You should have told me before I hired you that you had mental issues" (this from a mum who owned a fashion store, where I worked a few hours a day.)
" What you have isn't REAL depression"
"Depression is just self-pity"

Depression is none of these things. Depression does not define me, and does not confine me. When I am low, I am vulnerable, but please don't ever mistake this for weakness. People can more easily take advantage of one who is depressed.It's happened several times to me, both in business and in my personal world. And this is the travesty.

Depression, anxiety and other mental illness is a journey through the soul. It is the confrontation of the matters of life, death, youth, old age, ethics, philosophy, lifestyle and more. It is not a sign of weakness. It is not the sign of being unstable, or a freak. There is a way out. It can be slow and this is ok. Anyone who suffers is not alone - though we may be silent, we've been there before, and no doubt we will be there again.

I would love, in celebration of this years Mental Health Awareness Week, that those who have suffered from PND, from depression, from anxiety can share their stories free from judgement and fear. Maybe in our sharing, we can make the load a little bit easier for those in the throes.

Marilynn xx

Tags: awareness, depression, health, mental, natal, pnd, post, week

Add a Comment

You need to be a member of Mums on Top to add comments!

Join Mums on Top

Comment by JANELLE on October 14, 2009 at 10:15am: Firstly In each of your stories I see parts of my life and although we are different people and dont know each other well I feel a connection to you all.

One thing people say to me that I don't understand is " why are you depressed, you have everything you want". I want to say to them that depression can effect anybody. Ive given up talking to people too as they just seem to brush you off and change the subject, so I too find it easier on the computer to write down my feelings.

After I had my first son my Dr diagnosed me with PND and she put me on light meds which if I can remember I only stayed on a month and started to get better. I was fine for the next 18 years with no bouts of depression at all and I felt like life was good. We had our 3 kids and then 10 years later we decided to have another one as I was feeling the empty nest syndrome at 35 when my friends were having children.

It took us 5 years of tests etc until we finally got PG and I think that's where it came back. After the first blood test they told me that my PG wasn't viable and to go home and wait for the miscarriage. Once I got to 14 weeks I thought I was past the danger time and on the day of my scan I started to bleed heavily. Again I was told to wait for the miscarriage. I had hyperemisis and spent time in hospital several times and I remember one night I felt so alone I wanted to jump off the building I was in. Luckily my sister stayed with me and things improved. The rest of my PG went along well and I gave birth to the most amazing baby girl ever. Right from the start I had separation issues and I couldn't leave her or go out and I worried she would die cause I was so happy. By the time she was 3 weeks old I had the full blown PND.My midwife organised for me to go to a hospital group once a week just to meet people but all I wanted was me and my baby. For 2 years the anxiety ate me up but I kept it in. Again I went off the meds thinking that they didnt work anyway why should I take them.

Then my Dad got sick and it took 3 weeks of taking him to the DR every second day for them to finally do some tests which revealed he had lung cancer. They kept saying he had depression. He died with us beside him 3 weeks later. The lights went out in my soul then, I couldn't accept he was gone.I had no spark no get up and go no reason to carry on. I am the eldest and I am expected to be in control right!! It didnt happen. He died intestate and we had to pay for the funeral etc and his second wife wanted all his possessions including photo albums with us kids and my mum in. She told me she would take me to court if i didn't return his old van than i had at my place. Our 1 and only memory. Exactly a year later the same thing happened to me. I was really sick but the dr kept sending me home and so did the hospital. It took them 3 weeks of my intense pain to diagnose a blood clot in my lung. They thought it was depression again.They told me I was lucky I didn't die and from there on depression has been my constant companion. My counselor diagnosed PTSD from things that happened in my childhood and it brings me to today. I still suffer from the EDD too and the voices come when you least expect it. I'm on 3 medications and it is only just controlling it. I had better go I think I have written a book.
My love and thoughts to you all. I'm 47 now and I constantly fear death not only my own but people around me. I feel the despair of my children if I die I love them with all of my heart and that is the only reason I don't and I fight it every day.

Comment by Marilynn - Mums on Top Editor on October 9, 2009 at 11:24pm: Jamie - just a wee note - in the throes of my depression my mum used to make me talk to one adult every day. She even had me going up to the dairy to buy something just so I could have a conversation with the person behind the counter!

Lol...sounds sad, huh?

Thank you all so very, very much for sharing your thoughts and feelings. I do think it is excellent to open up discussion and realize that no, we are not alone and no, we are not abnormal :)

Amelia, I agree with Jamie :) I'm not a professional medical person but it might be worth checking out....

Anyways...what I didn't mention in my above post is that my baby boy, turned a teenager this week. Yup, we did get through it. Yes, he is amazing, my depression didn't 'damage' him in some way, we are very, very close, and he's an amazingly wonderful boy. We have an excellent bond - probably because we have gone through so much together.

So please don't give up. Some people just have things to carry. Some will get depressed once in their lives whereas other will have a life long battle. Either is ok. If you're either of these, talk and talk and tell. If one person doesn't listen, go to another, and another until you get the support you need. We, in many ways are very backwards in New Zealand society regarding depression and anxiety.

The best thing is that when one shoulder is broad, the other can cry and it all works in magnificent circles.

Thanks again for sharing you amazingly wonderful women xxx

Comment by Jaime Bigwood on October 9, 2009 at 4:33pm: Amelia I don't mince words so here it is - I think you have PND. And if you go to the doctor he will too - it's just your Evil Donald Duck telling you that you don't (trust me - he's there whispering away at you). As I say to people life shouldn't be as hard as depression makes it. Try the medication and if it doesn't help then it doesn't help. But if you had an iron or calcium deficiency you'd take a supplement right? My theory is that if I take the meds then at least I know that side of it is under control - and I can focus on sorting the other bits....

I had c-sects both times so I know how you feel - I wasn't even conscious for Harrison's arrival and was wheeled into the room a few hours later and told the baby in the plastic goldfish box was mine. I was like "yeah whatever you say - when you knocked me out I was pregnant and now I'm not....."

You are not alone. I've invited you to be a friend in case you want to share with someone who has been there, got the t-shirt and is still wearing it......

I think motherhood is the hardest, most challenging job any of us will ever do and if I can make it even slightly easier for just one Mum by reaching out then I will do whatever I can to achieve that. And hopefully help myself in the process (which is why my website has come about).

Oh and on a healing note I went out and bought a new mobile phone today - one that I can make calls on as I am going to make an effort to actually speak to people from now on rather than texting, emailing or using online forums. It messes up my budget but I feel it is an essential part of my healing....
Thanks again Marilynn for starting this discussion.

Comment by Amelia Tutaki on October 9, 2009 at 8:58am: Thanks for sharing your stories, my wee story isnt as painful, deep or as dark as the others but i feel that i want to share, because for taslking to someone face to face isnt something i would do. i've noticed that somethings just not right, i dont know what it is but its not right. To Jamie, the whole donald duck thing has put several feelings into nice little sentences and i know now exactly why i havent made any friends in my new town ( i've been here a year), i think its funny how i thought that i had convinced myself so much that i didnt like people and thats why i havent any friends here.

i havent been to the doctor and although i should i feel that he'll tell me that i also need to get over it - my mother hasnt but she doesnt want to talk to me about, if anything she'll talk around just to avoid it as i think she's going through depression. And then theres my beautiful partner, he's caring, loving and wonderful no matter how much of a ***** i am to him, im so greatful to have him but cant seem to open up and let my feelings out... but in saying that i think that he wouldnt understand or even try to - he likes to avoid the subjects all together that he doesnt like, i mean if i am like this because of something that he did he would never talk about it even if i tried he change the subject immediately.

At the moment i dont think i have depression - the normal kind, i maybe have PND, as when i had my son, it was done by c-sect, and ever since i have had no feelings for him, i mean i care for him and wouldnt let anything harm him but there is no joy there, i feel so empty, alone, worthless, guilty and all those things of the like, i have never enjoyed feeling like this and sometimes just want to die as the world would be much better without me. Some days are good, most are bad and i have no idea where i comes from, my moods are there without an explanation. Im getting better though, the little things my partner does like cooking, cleaning, taking care of diego have a big affect (a good one) so im grateful.

sorry about it being a little bit all over the place i didnt know how else to write it

Comment by Carrie on October 8, 2009 at 8:37pm: I won't tell my story, because it's told in your stories. Suffice to say that back when my son was two I started to think about taking my own life, often! Instead someone in my family noticed my demaenor and got me to go and see my Doctor who was great. I went onto Fluoxitine. It helped me a lot at the time, but I felt it took my creativity away. My husband has been great, he has sometimes had to put up with a lot! Thankfully through my LMC for my second pregnancy (and it took me six years to have another baby because I was so scared of what happened the first time around), got me into Maternal Mental Health and I attended Cognitive behavioural Therapy sessions - they helped a lot. I love my children dearly - god help anyone who does them any harm (lol) - when I look back it's with a who was that person feeling, but yes it's always in the background especially when life is very stressful. Someone I knew through a playgroup I used to go to took her own life and took her 8 year old boy with her - that really brought it home to me.

Good on you guys for sharing and reach out and ask for help - it's so important! Thanks M for providing such a place!

Comment by Sue on October 8, 2009 at 8:17pm: Hay Jaime, tell EDD its not a competiton and I love that you give things names. You have to find the funny side of things or you go mad :) Humour is what gets me through.

Interesting what you say about talking. I had a saying I wrote down after my husband died.

The more you speak the less it hurts.............finding someone who will listen is a little harder.

I can't believe I have spoken up on this subject myself. I never do things like this. In fact I never even meant to. I was just going to say a small comment to Jaime because it touched me, just like Marilynns did and away I went.

So Roseanne, don't worry there will come a time that it will feel right for you.

Comment by Jaime Bigwood on October 8, 2009 at 6:28pm: I should probably explain the evil donald duck thing a bit better - when I was a kid I saw Donuld Duck cartoon where Donald was trying to decide what to do and had an Angel Donald Duck on one shoulder and a devil Donald Duck on the other. Of course angel was telling him good stuff and devil was telling him bad stuff. I like having names fr things - it makes it easier to understand.

EDD says that my story is nowhere as bad as others. But I have decided to tell him to shut up (another advantage of personifying my depression!). And as my sister in law says - you shouldn't trust anything said by a duck that wears no pants!!

Roseanne I just wanted to say good on you for acknowledging that you aren't ready to tell it The time will come but don't expect too much - in my case it is still hard to tell people about it. I figure the more I do it the less it will hurt. Wish I could figure out how to abbreviate it more! Lol!

Comment by Roseanne on October 8, 2009 at 3:36pm: hi
i tried to share my story ... but i wasnt brave enough and deleted it. Yes i had/have pnd and depression. I have a husband who tries his best to understand, but have parents who i cant tell as my mum thinks pnd and depression and such are the fault of the person who has it. I was abused as a kid too which hasnt help. One day i might tell my story.. just not yet. But a BIG THANK YOU to those who have, i may be lonely but i am not alone.
I'm going to make a sign up with that quote from tinkerbell... it makes me smile!

Comment by Sue on October 8, 2009 at 1:27pm: Well EDD I read it :))) and I related to it so much.

You say its important to talk about it. It can be so hard when family members don't want to know, don't want to hear, just want every thing back to normal and for you to be there for them and their children, as if nothing was the matter. Just put that happy face on, is what is expected!!

My depression goes back to my husband dying of cancer after 28 years of marriage. I nursed him for two years and he died in my arms. Those last two weeks laying next to him every night, wondering if this was the night he would leave me, was sole destroying. He was a bag of bones, he was over 6 feet tall and was always such a big man and here I was each night cuddling a bag of bones hoping I wasn't hurting him. He was so loving and so concerned for my feelings which was amazing considering what he was going through. What a wonderful man he was.

Ten years before my husband died my Mum also died of cancer, again I nursed her and she died in my arms. Ten years before that my sister died of cancer. I was only 21 when she died and it was so hard watching her go through so much pain.
I guess I held a lot in until my husband died. There was this pattern, every ten years someone so close to me died. I didn't want to get too close to any one, it hurts too much when they go.

I got married again at 50, we had lived together for 4 years before that. Looking back now it was far too early to move into another relationship, especially one with so many problems. I love this man so much, but he had just seperated from his wife 3 months before we got together. His wife left him and took their son. He had only been living in NZ for 6 months and knew very few people. We were set up on a blind date. I love to help people and so it began.

Here I am nearly ten years on, his ex wife has caused so much grief that I have never been able to come right after losing my husband. Now I am 55 bringing up my husbands 14 year old son. I had my three boys by the time I was 24. My boys are now all in their 30's and two are married with children... all live overseas now. To go back to a teenager again with major problems has been hard.

This boy decided on his own, to move in with his Dad and me when he was eleven, because he wasn't getting the support at home from his Mother. I always thought she had some sort of depression as well, but didn't know how to help her. I tried to open my home to her, so her son would feel more happy. I tried being her friend. Nothing I did could make her happy.

Once her son wanted to move in with us, it got worse. This years she moved overseas with out telling us and stopped paying childsupport..........so I crashed big time, the resentment has been hard to live with, the thoughts of WHAT ABOUT ME!! then the guilt because you aren't coping arrgghhh.

I love your evil Donald Duck Jaime, I sure had someone on my shoulder telling me how useless I was. I wasn't used to not coping and then menopause hit as well. OMG I was a mess!!

Lately I am getting on top of things but it is hard when others around you won't let you move on and keep reminding you how useless you have been. My husband has been fantastic, though he too has gone through so much himself so understands more than most. He has lost his mum, Dad and Grandma in the last two years also. Which has been so hard when he lived in another country from them. We rushed back wards and forwards to NY while they were sick and after they died...one year, three times.

I am learning that you can't stop getting close to people because you are worried you will lose them. I am learning to like myself again and give myself time, stop beating myself up. I'm learning you have to look after yourself first before you can help others...But those voices are hard to ignore some days for sure.

Any way, just wanted to give another view on depression, us oldies get it too.

Wishing you all a wonderful day full of happy thoughts. Remember, tinkerbell told Peter Pan that if he wanted to fly he had to think of his happy thoughts.

Comment by Bridie on October 8, 2009 at 1:02pm: Thankyou for the stories.

My PND was really made up of a whole raft of things exploding around me at the same time. In my early teenage years I'd had what I felt was the fairly traumatic experience (my 'Ricky Lake'esque episode :)) of discovering my grandmothers body after she unexpectedly passed away. I fell headfirst into Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder, with associated depression, and barely functioned for the next few years. A run-in with meningitis coincided with a complete mental breakdown at 16 and after 2 years bed-ridden then re-learning how to do the basics I flapped my damaged little wings and attempted to leave the nest.

It was then that I met my ex-husband, a quiet, rather charming, seemingly kind guy who offered to take me back to my parents after my classes (they lived 40 minutes away). The fairytale quickly fell apart as he inexorably cut me off from my family, began to adjust how I spoke and laughed and dressed and ate, and showed his temper, firstly towards others, then towards himself then towards me. Still battling PTSD, very vulnerable and very very scared, especially after my pathetic attempts to distance myself resulted in being stalked, I stayed.

Almost 5 years and a wedding later I was told I couldn't expect to have children. What heartwrenching relief and grief melded together. I was beginning to find my feet by then, through my permanent haze of depression, and made the decision to leave then 3 weeks later found out I was 7 weeks pregnant. That explained why I'd be feeling so unwell and within 3 weeks I had full-blown hyperemesis. This blew my plans to leave out of the water! A fraught pregnancy followed with major medical mismanagement resulting in numerous trips to the hospital, and of course the violence at home. I came so close to losing my mind during that time - so close to something snapping and me becoming one of those womem that rocked and muttered and ripped her hair out, but I knew I couldn't do that to him - my baby, my child, this precious gift that had come to me out of the rubble of my life. I loved him with a passion, with an all-consuming adoration and I knew he was the crossroads, he would provide the signpost to give us both a better life.

Labour finally arrived with the gush of my waters and I was so excited! He was coming!!! I didn't find the contractions particularly painful, they were a means to an end. I felt so in control and that I think tipped the balance for my ex-husband. In an attempt to take back control he ordered me to leave for the hospital. I was expecting my midwife to arrive so said I was fine. I can only relate what I have been told by my mum regarding what happened next, as my fragile mind blocked it all out. With what he saw as my defiance, he snapped. He began screaming and yelling at me and dragging me to the door. The stress affected the level of the contractions and I immediately began to struggle with the pain. I collapsed on the floor in the hallway and began screaming as wave after wave of agony and terror hit me. He was leaning over me screaming and spitting saying he was going to leave me, I was going to have this baby alone, I was going to kill my baby and pouring abuse out at me. I had a massive gush of meconium and ended up being rushed to the hospital where my labour dragged out, baby had moved off the cervix and was in severe distress and it was all panic stations. My darling son was born suddenly 15 minutes before I was due to be taken into theatre.

During the next few days we were in hospital I tried telling people that I didn't want to go home but nobody listened. It was then the black cloud of depression began to billow on my horizons. The thought of going home with this little person and having so much extra to deal with was too much. I felt like I had this dead lump in my chest. We ended up being released and as I walked in the front door of the house I felt a shadow fall over my soul - dramatic sounding, I know but it best describes the feeling. After my ex attacked me a few weeks later, beating me while I held my precious baby then trying to take him from me, I felt strong enough to leave and not come back. We moved to mum and dads and I felt so free. It was like when you've been held under water and all of a sudden you're back in the air. It wasn't to last as I headed straight into a vicious seperation, working out the details and fighting for custody. I found a place for me and baby and tried to tell myself it would get better but it didn't. I couldn't sleep, waking in terror if I dozed off, and it only got worse after kidnap attempts. I began to have panic attacks and thought I was going to choke to death. The only bright spot in my life was my baby, this handsome, cheerful, cuddly little bundle who looked at me with such trust and love. Then I began to suffer guilt and feelings of failure as a mother, feeling that no matter how much I loved this incredible little person I would never ever be good enough to be around him. It was then I started cutting, first scratching my arms and wrists with my nails til the skin ripped and bled, then on to utensils. I began banging my head against the wall, having screaming fits into my pillow and eventually I would just sit there and rock, holding my body together with my arms, tears pouring down my face, trapped with this overwhelming grieve and fear whenever I was alone. I put on a front whenever anybody else including my son was around.

Because of the custody issues I was scared of asking for help. My nightmare was that, in asking for help, I would lose the only thing keeping me from shattering into a million pieces. Eventually I was driving us along a back road and saw a truck coming towards us. It took all my willpower and strength not to just plant my foot on the gas and plow into it. As the truck passed us I looked in my rearview mirror and saw my boy and for the first time I really started crying. I pulled over til I could see again and drove straight to my doctors. They seemed to listen but began to get side-tracked as I also have ADHD which they apparently decided meant I actually had bipolar! When they tried to tell me anti-depressants weren't the key I decided my life was far too important to mess around with and I went to somebody else. It took a few goes but eventually I met our current GP who immediately focussed on what I was telling her and understood about the ADHD. She put me straight back on ADs and I was finally on the road to improvement (do you ever truly recover??).

Its been over 2 years since I had my darling baby boy and in that time I've had to fight some pretty hefty demons. I've had the remnants of PTSD to deal with, the aftermath of the relationship with my ex-husband to work through, and of course my affair with PND. I also ended up madly in love with my best friend (and luckily he reciprocates completely), we have a house together and I'm 5 months pregnant. My new partner is besotted with our son who is besotted with him in turn and I am slowly healing. I've been off my AD's for a couple of months now but I still have regular appts with my wonderful GP, and I have a packet in my cupboard in case I feel 'the slide'. I'm confident that, with my fabulous family beside me, I can handle whatever happens with this baby and that confidence alone is enough to show me how far I've come.

I hold out my hand to anybody who is going through this or has been through this and want you to know that you aren't alone. Its one of depression's nasty little tricks (alot like an abusive partners :P) - to isolate you, to get you alone, to make you feel like nobody will understand and that the feelings of inferiority and failure you have will be validated by the people around you if you open up. Sometimes that may happen because people are people but perservere because you will find what you need. Don't let PND take those precious moments of life away from you.

I've suddenly realised that this might be quite long so I better wrap up :) Thanks for the opportunity to share!!