“Immediately following the birth of my first child, I suffered with severe anxiety and OCD. Reflecting on it now, the anxiety and OCD was present during my pregnancy, the main reason I was seeing the consultant during my pregnancy and the reason I was offered induction at 38 weeks; it crept up and was ready to grab and choke me. Little did I know, just weeks later my life was about to crash into an intense storm. 

Following the delivery of my firstborn, it was like a veil coming down as soon as I delivered him and I felt no emotion when he was put in my arms; something that continued for many more months. The early days felt like permanent jet lag and with breastfeeding issues which only exasperated my obsessive nature and anxiety, I felt I would only bond with him if I exclusively fed him. I was unable to meet the demand for this and as well as everything else, I felt a complete failure as a mother. I was exhausted and couldn’t even bring myself to hold, change or bath him, I didn’t have the energy to feed him but felt that if I didn’t, I had given up any chance of bonding. I became more and more consumed by these thoughts plus my chemical contamination fears increased; I would become inconsolable and distraught If he had been exposed to any ‘risk’ no matter how small. My intrusive thoughts continued and became unbearably intense. I couldn’t feel comfortable being alone with him, the fear of harming him played itself over and over in my mind, I couldn’t look anywhere in the house without vividly seeing how my exhaustion would mean I would see him injured or dying because of me, it was like somehow believing the intrusive thoughts were instructions and not just thoughts. 

Intrusive thoughts like this usually stem because you are so protective of them, that your brain is risk assessing any possibility of harm and ensuring you keep them safe, though it felt like my brain was short wiring and I thought it’s because I wanted to do those things rather than risk assessing and avoiding. 

The next two weeks were so intense, I would have rather gone through labour solidly for two weeks than experience another hour; labour ended, this felt certain and final. I felt collapsed under my own weight physically and emotionally through the gruelling and draining exhaustion. The intrusive thoughts of harming my baby still haunted me and the horrid feeling of dissociation continued. I continued to see the world from behind my veil; I didn’t know what was happening to me and I just began to accept my new existence. My baby sensed my anxiety, I’m sure of it, he was more settled with others. I felt he knew I couldn’t undertake the basic caring tasks; bathing him alone was impossible because of the fear, the anxiety also stopped me from even walking down the stairs with him, I thought I would follow my intrusive thoughts and throw him down. 

Interacting with him or giving him eye contact, sheer exhaustion from just trying to function had stripped me of any desire to want to connect with him. He did continue to thrive though, the combination feeding ensured I could get small snippets of much needed time away to just relieve myself of Mummy duties, although my mind was too wired to truly rest. 

OCD around chemical contamination only increased though, what I drank, what I ate, what type of plastic was I exposed to. This was from food down to the bottles of my shampoo and conditioner. Anything I couldn’t eliminate or remove instantly, resulted in complete distress. I would scream and collapse in a heap unable to stand or rationally understand the risk was small and unmeasurable, any potential harm was too much to take. I had to remove the cot mattress immediately because of the fire retardants and foam used. I spent money on ordering a natural mattress that was naturally fire retardant Free. This couldn’t stop me still noticing ‘smells’ off my mattress or furniture. I even had a plasterer come in to cover up mdf board because I feared the formaldehyde emanating it would result in harm to my child longer term. 

I did seek help from my GP and used the CRISIS team when it became too intense but this was the new me I thought, and how I was going to be forever. My cries for help felt like they fell flat, the ongoing appointments seemed structured and clinical, I continued to feel washed up on my own deserted island, the massive storm may have waned, but I was still stranded, hours felt like days and days like months. I somehow gained strength to resume daily routines but inside I was screaming for someone to save me. 

I did receive therapy from the Recovery Team but not once was I told it was the result of a Perinatal Mental Health illness, and not once approaching the delicate area of the grief I was feeling from losing the precious first few days, the overwhelming love of my child and losing myself. 

It was only during my second pregnancy and with the support of a specialist perinatal mental health service that had just started up that I got told my symptoms fell under the umbrella term of postnatal depression and that I had experienced a complex and severe case of it, explaining that it’s not as common to experience it during the pregnancy and immediately following the birth, I wonder to this day if that was why I was never told. I remember bursting into tears. It was starting to make sense and I was starting to allow myself to let go of the guilt and the immense weight of the trauma I had experienced over the previous year and a half. I started seeing my wonderful specialist perinatal nurse and psychologist and the work we have done has really helped my recovery. The months leading up to my delivery were challenging, I didn’t want to respond to people’s messages and I shut myself away, because how do you explain that you are not looking forward to what should be a magical and exciting time, the realisation of how unwell I was first time round was rising to the surface and there was no going back, I had to walk through the fire and I needed to stay as emotionally well and rested as I could. 

Following the birth of my second baby, every milestone, the feeding, the first journey home, was extremely challenging to me as these were some of the experiences first time round that haunt me to this day. Luckily, although I remained sensitive and on edge to potential triggers, after the first few weeks, I felt more myself and comfortable with my two children. This was an extremely refreshing feeling that continued to grow. However that then suddenly halted and an Intense weight of numbness cascaded down on me, I felt the full pelt of depression. This lingered and I agreed to start medication due to an increase of suicidal thoughts. This was the start of a very different but difficult and dark time for me. 

The numbness continued to linger, I felt no emotion or warmth to anything, anyone, any beautiful sunny day, or the warm smiles of my children because the weight of the pain consumed me. The only rush of emotion and excitement I got, was the thought of not living anymore, not even the thought of seeing my children growing up could pull me back from that thought. There was something deep inside fighting though, as I immediately knew I neeeded to leave my house, escape, my mind could have been capable of making me follow that rush. I jumped on a train to Shropshire to stay with my Mum, the relief of escaping was soothing. I eventually changed my medication and at the same time I actually had found my guiding light, I had the pleasure of meeting Lauraine from Shine earlier in the year and had just started attending her course, all at the same time as my darkest hour. 

Shine is an art therapy course for women affected by postnatal mental illness. Little did I know that the magic of this journey and the friendships formed from the process really was a significant part of my current recovery and the support received from the wonderful mums and art creations has helped me get through those darkest moments and I will be forever grateful to Lauraine and Shine for that. I still proudly display many of my creations, many of which sparked something inside of me to shine again. 

Peer support really is the icing on the cake for any recovery journey. No judgment, kind words and a shoulder to cry on through the hard times. Where how it really feels is OK and accepted. I owe so much to these wonderful, strong and inspirational women, whom are on all on different stages of their recovery journey. In conversation with another inspirational mummy the other day, we both agreed that although the experience is something you wouldn’t wish on anyone, it’s one that we are glad we had. 

I am certainly not the same person as before. I’m more fragile, maybe a little broken but the veil has lifted. Everything’s brighter and the everyday is more soothing, I’m inspired, I’m not ashamed and I’m certainly stronger. I want to tell anyone who is going through their own journey that showing emotion, speaking and reaching out isn’t a weakness, it shows true courage. It’s OK to not enjoy the ride but I wouldn’t change it, because the destination I’ve finally reached has one hell of a view!