Sali

I was going through a rough time when I found out I was pregnant. I had just gotten back together with my boyfriend and was definitely not expecting to become a mother so soon.

I had been in a dark place for months leading up to my pregnancy. I had lost most of my friends and the ones that remained were rarely seen because they feared what my mood would be. I thought about ending it all when my boyfriend had left. I felt alone and worst of all I felt like no one cared anymore – I had become a high maintenance friend.

So the news of a baby left me feeling a little more melancholy. Who was I to bring up a child? I couldn’t even look after myself.

So I smiled and pretended to be happy with the news.

My boyfriend and I got back together and as the months passed our relationship grew stronger. I saw a side to him that I had never seen before. He was doting on me all the time and when I saw the look in his eyes when he touched my baby belly, I melted. I began to realise I needed to grow up and face the ‘demons’ in my mind. I spoke often with my boyfriend about everything that troubled me, he was my sponge; absorbing all my tears. I also spoke with the pastor of a church a few times; it seemed easier to talk about some of the things with a stranger.

As my belly grew, so did my mind. I felt like I was finally giving my mind the spring clean it deserved. But then I reached the seven month mark. I was fat, pimply and ached all over.

My ankles swelled hideously and I had piercing pains in my legs. If that wasn’t bad enough; my ‘friends’ started telling me the horror stories of their births. I was terrified. I didn’t want to give birth. I knew I had to eventually, but I didn’t want to. What if this happened? What if that happened? What if?… I was so scared. So I dealt with it the only way I knew how to - sleep!

“Who was I to bring up a child? I couldn’t even look after myself”

I slept through most of my pregnancy and when I wasn’t sleeping I watched shows about difficult births and malformed babies, I thought if I knew how bad the worst of the worst labours could be, then mine surely couldn’t be as bad as they were, and if it was, then at least I knew how to react. That was probably the worst thing I could have done, I started having nightmares about my baby. Whenever anyone mentioned my pregnancy I would have an anxiety attack. I was even hospitalised once because the anxiety attack was so bad that I couldn’t breathe and they had to put me on oxygen.

The due date arrived and passed, my baby obviously had the same fears of birth as me because 11 days after his due date, I was induced. He didn’t want to come out. The birth was horrific! Even now I have flash backs that make me cringe and feel nauseous.

I lay there staring at my baby, hmm, now what? I had no idea what to do. I had not read any books or asked any questions about caring for a baby. I assumed I would just know. I started getting down on myself, why didn’t I know what to do? Where was the motherly instinct?

I quickly learnt how to feed, change and clean my baby. So for the next few months that’s all I did, and of course slept! Luckily my baby was in tune with me and we slept most of the days. Everything became a blur, I didn’t know what day it was, I didn’t care. I had to look after my baby. I didn’t clean the house, I ate microwave meals and I chose to avoid people whenever possible. When my boyfriend was home I smiled and laughed and played ‘happy families’, but as soon as he was at work I would cry and lay on the couch staring at the telly or at my baby.

Things gradually got worse and I felt like I couldn’t cope anymore. Even the easiest of tasks was draining. I felt sad all the time. One day, while preparing dinner, I looked at the knife in my hand. I had images of what I could do to myself. As I directed the knife towards my self, I saw my reflection in the blade. I dropped the knife and started bawling, my boyfriend came running in asking what the matter was. I couldn’t stop crying, how could I have even thought those things, I knew it was wrong but the images were so strong in my mind. My boyfriend sat there holding me, he had no idea what had happened and I dared not tell him out of fear of being locked up in an asylum.

The next day my doctor put me in touch with a social worker who I attended regularly over the next six months. It was explained to me that I was suffering PND and a type of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) brought on by the horrific birth. I was also suffering anxiety. I was told that although I had the visions in my head, I was aware that they were wrong and that I didn’t have to follow them through. This ‘awareness’ is what saved my life.

I was put on medication and attended therapy regularly for a year. I eventually no longer needed the medication or therapy. I had learnt the warning signs for my anxiety and how to manage them. I also learnt about positive thinking.

Occasionally I get the odd vision of bad things (like car accidents or illness) happening to my loved ones or me, but I know now that it is my mind’s way of telling me to slow down and stress less. I have come to understand the power one’s mind can have over their lives and when mixed with outside influences it can become manic.

Five years on and I have since had another child and have not suffered any PND, Perinatal Anxiety* or PTSD*.

I am now looking at studying anthropology and would like to help others to become aware of their minds and how to overcome depression. I was unaware of my depression until it was almost too late.

My advice is that if you feel depressed or anxious or just not quite right; see your doctor. If you still don’t feel right after that, then see another health professional, like a counsellor. Don’t give up until you feel satisfied with your treatment.

You know yourself better than anyone else.