Postnatal depression – it’s okay to own up!

So, I’m not crummy after all. A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with postnatal depression (hence the long gap in between posts). This will probably come as a shock to those of you who know me, but that’s the shit thing with PND… it makes you feel embarrassed, like an utter failure and you don’t want to own up to anyone about it, especially not other mums. That’s why it’s still something of a taboo subject. You don’t going around going, ‘hey, guess what everyone? I’ve got postnatal depression’, do you?
Anyway, in the spirit of breaking the cycle of secrecy surrounding PND, guess what? I’ve got postnatal depression. It started last October when Sam was seven months old. I’d felt fine before that, but my GP puts it down to stopping breastfeeding and the drop in all the hormones I’d had swimming around my body since Sam was conceived. (Bloody hormones!) I was in denial, battled on, felt better for a while, then pretty darn crap again about a month ago. I’m now on fluoxetine (okay, it’s Prozac, but using its generic name makes me feel better!) and I’m getting there.
The funny thing is that it wasn’t exactly depression that I was feeling. I wasn’t weeping uncontrollably or finding it hard to get out of bed. I was trying to do too much and that was the problem – I felt a constant, nagging, persistent overwhelming stress. It was as if I was a bucket of water with holes in and no matter how hard I tried to block all the holes and keep the water contained, it would inevitably seep out – that was what my life felt like. Out of control.
I wrote endless lists of things that had to get done each day – and if I didn’t tick every single thing off then I panicked. Weirdly, I was so obsessive and so obviously scared of losing my marbles that my list would go something like this:
1. Feed Sam
2. Have shower
3. Remember: PUT A WASH ON!
4. Buy milk
5. Don’t forget: FEED CAT!!
And on it would go… sometimes there would be 30 things on my list. Inane things. Everyday things. Simple things that, to me, felt like mountains
to climb. Occasionally it would feel like there was so much to do, so much to cross off, that I'd be gripped by a terrifying inertia, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. On those days I couldn't even leave the house because getting Sam in the buggy without forgetting something essential seemed like too great a challenge.
I ended up keeping the list by my bed at night, so that if I woke up at 4am fretting about forgetting to take the washing out of the machine, I could simply scribble it down for the next day… and so the cycle would continue.
No wonder I resented all those ‘have it all’ perfect yummy mummies. No wonder I felt like a crap mum. Their lives seemed easy, a breeze. Mine was an uphill struggle.
Not that I ever once resented Sam, though. I knew I loved him more than anything. I just didn’t think I was doing enough for him, or doing things right. I felt guilty, like he deserved more than this pent up, anxious old bat who purported to be his mum.
But thank God for Prozac, that’s what I say. It’s taken the edge off and I feel ‘normal’ for the first time in six months. I’m actually a CONFIDENT mum, I’m a GOOD mum… despite being a little chaotic and unconventional. And I’ve banned lists from my life. It means I forget a few important things every now and then, like last week I forgot to buy nappies until I was down to the last one, but it wasn't exactly life threatening and it wasn't as if the corner shop didn't sell Pampers (okay, I wasn't the wonderful eco-friendly mum I wanted to be by using them, but so what if it's just once in a while?)
I've also stopped going to my postnatal group full of supposedly 'perfect' mums and now I only see nice, normal mums, who admit to a few mistakes and misgivings every so often, but can laugh about them. They're friends, that's the difference.
I would say though, that if for one second any of you suspect that you’re also suffering from PND then please please see your GP. It comes in all shapes and forms – not everyone feels sad, lonely, teary, anxious or doesn’t bond with their baby. Others feel stressed and panicky or angry and moody. For some, like me, the bond with the baby is the only thing that keeps you going. However it manifests itself, it’s a very real and very miserable experience, but one that does get better with the right help – or so I’m told! I’m having my first lot of NHS counselling at the Lind Clinic in delicious Deptford next week, so I’ll let you know how it goes. Yep, there’s hope for me yet!