Please be aware that some may find this post upsetting. It is about postnatal depression. Please don’t read if you are sensitive to such issues. Please feel free to comment. I just needed to get these feelings out.
I did that thing… the thing I promised myself that I would never do…I had a baby to save my relationship. Well, not quite. I thought my chances of having children were extremely slim – or so I had been told. Coming off the pill just seemed a natural thing to do… I wanted to give myself a chance to at least try. We discussed what would happen if I did get pregnant – he said it would be great! I’m not so sure that he truly meant it, I think he really thought that it would never happen. He was just trying to make me happy. Nine days later I am pregnant.
Our situation is not the best. He has an alcohol addiction and has only just got a job after nine months unemployment. We are skint and he has thousands of pounds worth of debt, twenty-seven to be exact. I am not coping with his drinking at all. I am depressed. What on Earth was I thinking? Did I actually think having a baby would stop him drinking? Maybe I just didn’t think it would happen either…maybe I just didn’t think. Depression does strange things to you.
The pregnancy is going well. I’m feeling and looking great. Everyone around us is so excited and pleased as they knew that this baby was my little miracle. Pregnancy is suiting me – everyone says so. I feel great. My hopes are raised, maybe everything is going to be okay after all. I am eating healthily. I follow all the advice written in books. I read so many books! I feel knowledgeable and capable. Everyone tells me I’m going to be a great Mum. I believe them. I feel great. Even he is excited.
I’m eight months now, I’m on maternity leave. I’m home alone – too much time to think… that feeling deep inside, a sinking feeling. Something not quite right. I don’t tell anyone – I can cope. He’s never home – working or at the pub. Feeling isolated. I’m anxious, I can’t sleep – just the baby moving around a lot. I can cope.
I wake early morning. Contractions…horrendous pain. Something not quite right. I tell him I’m fine as he seems concerned. He goes back to sleep. I run a bath and try to relax. The pain comes and goes. I notice that I’m bleeding a little – I don’t say anything, I’m scared. A few hours later I wake him – the pain is much worse, the bleeding increased. He calls the hospital – they tell me to come in immediately.
They tell me baby is fine and on its way. The bleeding caused by an infection. Baby is two weeks overdue. The pain is like nothing I’ve experienced. I’m told there are complications, I’m not pushing effectively. They have to help her out – but the cord is around the neck. They have to be quick. I’m using too much gas and air – they take it away. I feel calm. Weird feeling. Baby Is out and fine, I hold her for a second – I don’t feel anything… I should feel something. I’m rushed straight into surgery.
I’m on the labour ward, Daddy is already there. He has dressed the baby – they are bonding. I hold the baby – she looks deep into my eyes – she is beautiful – we name her. I don’t feel anything yet, I cry. Daddy looks at the nurse – she tells him it’s normal – I’ve been through a lot. I feel like I’m not in the room.
I hold the baby all night, she won’t sleep. I had an epidural for surgery, I can’t get out of bed, my buzzer Isn’t working. I tell the nurse doing rounds – she says she’ll fix it – nothing is done. I cry all night – baby stares at me like she knows something’s wrong. Such beautiful big blue eyes. I cry all night – the nurses say nothing. It must be normal to feel this way…
We bring baby home. Everything is well. I feel a bit better. Friends and family are visiting a lot so I pretend everything’s great. I cry a bit – everyone says that it’s baby blues. The Health visitors come and go, I carry on pretending. They don’t notice anything is wrong. The visits die down. Proud Daddy goes back to work. I’m alone with baby. Baby stares at me with those big blue eyes – she knows.
Daddy throws himself back into work. He does a lot of ‘wetting the babies head’. I barely see him. Some days I’m in tears when he gets home. He looks worried but doesn’t know what to do. I tell him I’m tired – baby doesn’t sleep. Daddy takes baby from me, walks around a while, she falls straight to sleep. I cry a bit more. He doesn’t know what to do.
Daddy thinks baby is Mummy’s job. Daddy’s life has returned to normal. He doesn’t help much. It’s my fault, I’ve alienated him, told him he wasn’t doing things properly. Kept criticizing. I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t cope. I can’t blame him but I resent him anyway and blame everything on his drinking (which wasn’t helping).
Things are starting to get better, baby is easier now that she is older. I’m enjoying it. Of course, it is time for me to return to work. Sod’s law. I tell everyone how great it was, how much I enjoyed it. I lie.
I feel like I missed out on something special, something that should of been cherished. I blamed him and his drinking – it didn’t help. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. I blame him anyway – I can’t help it. I lost myself.