Postnatal Depression

This continued over the weekend. I missed him so much I just wanted to hold him all day and all night. Chris was trying to get him into a routine of putting himself to sleep but I just wanted to hold him. I would hold him to sleep and watch him sleeping in my arms.

Later that day Chris and I had an argument. I can’t even remember what it was about now. Something trivial. I felt alone. He couldn’t see me. He thought I was just being a difficult moody bitch but what he couldn’t see was me dying inside and fighting to stay afloat. Fighting to keep my emotions in check. Trying to be reasonable, logical, sensible and all the things that I would normally be.

I started telling myself I didn’t belong here and my family were better off without me. I’m a burden. I’m useless. I’m not meant to be a mother. I’m a terrible wife. How can I escape this pain and feeling of despair and hopelessness? I started visualising or fantasising about how I could end my life. I never felt like I was going to hurt my baby. It was my own personal safety and sanity that was at risk. A strange feeling of sadness, hopelessness and negativity.

I lay down on the covers of my bed crying. Not silent tears that slip into the pillow but really bawling.

Snot dripping down my face, hiccupping and the pillow drenched in tears. I couldn’t stop. Literally. I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to lie down and cry all day.

I was so tired of crying but I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there looking out the window into the trees crying, wishing a hole would open up and I would just fall into it and disappear. When I cry I can’t talk. Chris was at a loss. I’d had three kids before and we had endured many of life’s challenges and I had never been like this. Ever.

This isn’t me. There is something wrong with me. What is wrong with me.

I need to go to the doctor.

Chris rang the doctor and called my cousin who had been my birthing partner too. She came over and hugged me. Held me for the longest time as I cried into her shoulder.

She held me firm and told me she had me. I told her a little of what I was feeling. I started to feel a little better.

Chris too. He could now see me and what he needed to do to support me.

I went to the doctor. A young man, younger than me and I imagined probably single with no kids. Fresh out of medical school and absolutely no real-life experience with what I am going through. I try to tell him that this isn’t me. I can’t stop crying.

We agree I have mastitis and a fever. Antibiotics will help he says. I tell him if we can just make the milk stop I believe I will be better.

Please make the milk stop.

Apparently, there are a number of drugs and options available to help make milk but none to make it stop. Typical.

My doctor was very careful not to give my condition a label in our face to face discussion. We were talking in circles with him telling me that I had a lot on my plate right now, mastitis and my hormones all out of whack. I could sense he was uncomfortable with my emotions. He also referred me to a counsellor and stated I was going to come right after a few days. I’ve seen my medical notes since then and postnatal depression was his official diagnosis.

On reflection, I had probably more stress and worries that any new mother should. But what helped to heal me was talking. Talking with my sister in law, talking with my cousin and eventually to my husband. Every woman who suffers from postnatal depression is different. It can be triggered by different things and it heals differently for everyone.

This was my journey and I’m happy to share it with all of you. Because sharing has helped me to heal my heartbreak.


Originally published here

Melanie have birthed 4 beautiful caramel coloured Samoan, Maori crazy Scottish children ranging in age from 10 to 2 years. She also have two awesome foster sons who have joined them in a home for life situation and become part of her family. She is supported by a loving husband who juggles his own creative business aspirations around the day to day care of their children. Between kids sports and school events, full time work and part time study she spends time with her bestie (who is actually my cousin) and her family. The dinner table always has at least 9 kids at it when they get together weekly. Melanie was inspired to create and share her writing with Awa Wahine, initially to support the kaupapa. Helping women to be heard, sharing stories. We all have stories to tell but now she sees that writing also helps our own mental and emotional well-being. Kind of like therapy. Helps us to process our thoughts and feelings.

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