My husband and I first started trying for a baby in 2005. I developed depression after losing four babies, including one set of triplets, all within a year.
They were early miscarriages, but the devastation hit me dramatically.
In 2006, we had a successful pregnancy - our daughter. My labour started at just over eight months and I believe the trauma of the labour may have contributed to me developing post natal depression.
We had many scans throughout her pregnancy to check that she was developing ok, as one of the possible causes of our miscarriages related to our chromosomes not working together, and during one at 34 weeks, a lump on her neck was found. The doctors thought she might require an operation at birth so I was sent straight to Southampton Hospital when my waters broke.
Nothing happened for 72 hours. I was then induced using the pill and then by drip. My daughter was born on my fourth day in hospital and the lump on her neck, although not requiring surgery, was almost the size of a golf ball.
I had been cut during the labour and had lost so much blood I needed a blood transfusion. My body seemed to reject the blood I was given and I had a fit, which almost killed me. Because we lived so far from the hospital my family could only visit infrequently and the feelings of being alone started then. I was in and out of consciousness, or so it felt, for the first week of her life. Because of my reaction to the blood transfusion I was unable to even attempt to breast feed and the signs of depression started.
I left the hospital seven days after she was born and went home with my husband. At the time he worked long hours and was out the house from 7am until 7pm. I developed severe anxiety and over the weeks, OCD. Post natal depression hit me before I had even left the hospital but the feelings grew even deeper when I was home on my own.
I don’t know if the cyst on her neck contributed to the depression or if the depression caused me to feel so badly about the cyst but they seemed to be relevant to each other. One of the obsessions I developed was to hide it at all times.
My family knew within about three weeks that something was wrong but I refused to accept it and was in denial about feeling anything but ‘love’ for my new baby. Hard as it is to explain now, and silly as it sounds, I felt resentment for the baby I had just given birth to, and still grieved for the ones I had lost.
During the first six months of her life I felt like a zombie, in and out of a trance. I was taking iron tablets for the blood I had lost, and after six weeks went to the doctor and was prescribed the highest dose of anti-depressants.Memories of a RapeBecause my husband worked such long hours, the night shifts were all down to me, and so the lack of sleep also got on top of me. The depression made me feel sad and alone. No-one could understand why I felt sad at such a wonderful time - including me. My mood swings were uncontrollable. One minute I would be on a high, really enthusiastic about something, the next, I would be inconsolable, sobbing over the tiniest thing. Household jobs became too much for me and even the thought of doing them made me feel sick.
The psychosis side of the illness still affects me now (nearly four years after my daughter was born). When I was cut giving birth to her, traumatic memories came back to me of a rape I had experienced as a child, that my mind had blocked out for almost a decade.
I was confused because I didn’t know if I was remembering a real experience or if imagining it up was part of what I was going through.
I became convinced a man was going to kill me. I genuinely believed he knew where I was, would find me, would rape me and my baby and then kill us. The terror was indescribable. These feelings and thoughts increased a hundred times over if I was alone, so I started spending the twelve hours a day my husband was working, at my parents’ house. My Dad was a wonderful support to me, and spent many hours with my new baby. They have a fantastic relationship now, because as hard as it is to accept, he bonded with her far more than I did. I felt like a robot. I would feed her and change her and rock her if she cried. But I felt nothing! I didn’t talk to her or comfort her as I should have. I resented her but didn’t know why, and spent as little time with her as I could.
For over a year, my husband and I struggled to communicate. Even with the medication, (which I often deliberately missed) a huge gap grew between us. I pushed him away from me, convinced myself I didn’t love him, tried endlessly to make him hate me. I resented him also, for not feeling the way I did.
The OCD I developed confused all of us and the anxiety led to me hysterically phoning my Dad at all hours of the night.
My younger sister had given birth to a baby boy just four months before my daughter was born and I resented her for having such a wonderful relationship with her son. Several times within the first year of my daughter’s life I tried to kill myself. I overdosed on paracetamol, but my father forced me to be be sick. Weeks later, I tried to drown myself in the sea, but my mother and my sister again stopped me.
Since the time she was born I had been self-harming. I didn’t know how else to cope with how I was feeling, so I cut my legs. I missed my medication every few weeks, hating having to take it, and being angry with myself for needing it. These times were the worst, when I had nightmares I could never have even imagined. I was convinced I was going mad and hid everything I felt from anybody. I kept a diary though, which later helped me write a book.
The feelings subsided when my daughter was about 16 months old. It was as if over the weeks, it just faded away. We then had our son, and I suffered a very mild form of post natal depression.
What I experienced after the birth of my daughter is something I will never forget. It affected my relationship with her so much. Now she is four, and we have an unbreakable bond, but I am very over-protective of her and hate to let her out of my sight - some memories of the man I was convinced would kill her still haunting me.
My husband and I are in the process of divorcing now, and he admits that post natal depression killed our marriage. I have lost the only man I loved because of an illness I could not control. I deal every day with the knowledge of our marriage breaking down being for that reason. I love my children more than ever and perhaps being alone with them, adds to the bonds we now share.
My book was published last year
Strangers In My Mind: Living with Post-Natal Psychosis
and I recently created a website to raise awareness of the illness which is www.pnprachelday.webs.com
Rachel Bugby Day
July 2010 |
Just After The Birth
