One week left off work. One week until my baby turns one.
This week is going to create a big mix of emotions for me. I feel I need to pour out my thoughts on this post to help me make sense of my concerns because at the current time I am feeling overwhelmed and bewildered.
I fear the thought of returning to work. I genuinely enjoyed my 'KIT days'; socialising with the team, using my brain, having a little bit of time being me, but I don't feel ready, will I ever feel ready? My brain is still mush, I continue to feel incapable of juggling everything and my most significant concern, I have spent every hour of every day with my son for the last year and suddenly I won't see my favourite little man 3 days of the week.
I am dreaming frequently at the moment, when I am managing sleep, and my most recent dream was all about going back to work. However, instead of being back at my Physio job, it was back to Waitrose (where I worked over a decade ago). The people were the same yet everything had changed and I had no idea what I was doing.
I have been thinking that I have 2 days this week, my last work free week, without anything planned (a rare couple of days just the 2 of us) and I was determined that they would be used exactly as I want them to be. These 2 days are precious mummy and son days. The plan was to spend them doing some of our favourite activities together. First off, Monday morning was swimming. We've not been for ages!
But part of me was afraid that something or someone would ruin our days together, demand time out of our precious few hours. I have not been myself for too much of our irreplaceable year together, but I will look back at this year with many fond and invaluable memories of the fun we have had with each other. It is not like these are the last 2 days together ever, but I have really been building up their importance in my head. I wished for them to be 2 of the best days, I wanted them to be perfect.
Then Monday morning arrives and after a bad night, my son has a heavy cold. My fear a reality, my luck as ever. Our swimming session has to be postponed. It appears at least one of our two days together will be mummy nursing her poorly, clingy bubba back to health. It would be a lie to say that I am not hugely disappointed that today will not be the special, memorable day I wanted. However we were literally just doing some supported walking together, at my sons routine request, and whilst we were walking he looked up at me and smiled the biggest smile. I realised that we don't have to be doing something remarkably different to normal, he is content doing something distinctly ordinary, he is just happy being with me. Consequently I am staying positive, instead I can spend the day having plenty of snuggly, albeit snotty, cuddles. Plus better to get the cold over with before his birthday.
On that note, the momentous 1st birthday milestone, that is causing me further perfectionist anxiety. He will only ever have his 1st birthday once, he is unlikely to remember it, but I want the photos and videos to truly reflect how his party and his birthday were unforgettably special!
Where has this year gone? It has flown by in a blur of highs and lows, my gorgeous, cheerful son being the only constant. The speed at which the year has gone scares me. My son has become such an amazing little dude and he deserves an extra special day. For his birthday I have instructed myself that I too will enjoy his birthday celebrations, so for 5 minutes every hour I will take a step back and fully appreciate the event, observe him enjoying his moment.
For Bubbas 1st birthday I have have decided to put together a box of letters etc. for my son to open on his 18th birthday. I have been writing a letter, wondering what kind of man my son will be in 17 years and thinking if those 17 years pass by as quickly as this year has, he will be reading the letter in the blink of an eye. A very scary thought. Again I have chosen to be strict on myself, 17 years away is exactly that, 17 years into the future. I need to stop worrying how quickly the future is coming, that is completely out of my control, I need to appreciate the here and now, savour every second of my almost one year old however the present offers itself. It seems the more fun we have, the faster the time passes by. If that is so then surely quicker equals more favorable quality time and I would not want it any other way.
Before re-reading and altering this post multiple times it was all over the place, it was very reflective of where I think my head is at. But my summery of all these thoughts is that this last week off is going to be emotional and clearly my perfectionist nature is significantly adding to my anxiety but despite my chaotic, jumbled concerns, I am able to take the time to reflect to control and organise my thoughts and feelings. I'm determined to make the most of every second and not let any PND negativity interfere with my valuable mummy/son time.
Monday 31 October 2016
Friday 21 October 2016
A shared challenge
In my desire to completely overcome post natal depression, I have been proactively finding ways to help myself. After searching on google I discovered PANDAS. PANDAS Foundation is a Pre and Post natal depression advice and support charity. They have various ways in which they can help women and men experiencing perinatal depression and those around them. Whilst browsing the options I discovered that they run support groups in some areas, and I was pleased to see that my local town was one of them. I promptly emailed the lady who runs my local group and received a friendly welcoming reply. The next group was the following Tuesday.
Tuesday came and my son and I headed to the children's centre that was hosting the support group. I hadn't built the trip up too much in my head, I knew that would not be wise, so as I was walking towards the main doors I started feeling nervous. I had no idea what to expect, but something similar to how psychotherapy groups are portrayed in films was my sudden unforseen concern; everyone sat looking stony-faced, on chairs in a circle, all watching me walk in. Instantaneous anxiety. The reality was quite the opposite. I walked through the doors, timidly asking 'Is this the PND group?' But to my relief I was warmly welcomed in and instantly invited to help myself to a hot drink and biscuit, if desired, before I joined everyone else. Chocolate chip cookies and a cup of tea is always a good start!
It was all comfortably informal, no circle as I envisaged, instead a choice of chairs or floor. The floor was set up with a floor mat and toys so I opted for the floor with my son, in doing so joining another mummy and her 6 month old.
I was the last to arrive so we all briefly introduced ourselves. There was 2 ladies who were involved in running the session, 3 mummies and 2 babies.
I learnt that the group is there for us to meet one another and besides that, the time is for us to use as we wish. We chose to spend the hour and a half discussing our experiences of pre or post natal depression (in my case whilst constantly chasing my little one around the room). Honestly, I started off feeling apprehensive and I don't believe I was the only one, the other mummies also appeared shy but as soon as the ice was broken the atmosphere was so relaxed, it felt natural talking about anything (even my feelings!) with these women because they were so understanding. We shared ideas and advice we have learnt along the way including techniques for helping our partners to empathise with our feelings, the various baby groups available locally that we have tried out and general wellbeing tips. The 90 minutes went past so quickly. We agreed we would all return for the next meeting in 2 weeks time to continue our conflab.
On reflection of the morning, what stood out to me the most was that we are mums with different upbringings, all confronting depression, and therefore we can empathise with each other but most striking was the different symptoms we were experiencing. Our pre/post natal depression was showing itself in different ways, for some it is anxiety, low confidence, fatigue for others anger, guilt and frustration. It is an individual experience but a shared challenge. Our most common characteristic was our desire to fully recover and be us again.
Unfortunately for me, my group runs every other Tuesday, this means I can attend the next session but then I'm back to work on Tuesdays. Such a shame because I feel I would benefit from the support. It is such a valuable, free service and I would recommend the group to anyone going through post natal depression.
PANDAS website link
Finding your local PANDAS support group
Tuesday came and my son and I headed to the children's centre that was hosting the support group. I hadn't built the trip up too much in my head, I knew that would not be wise, so as I was walking towards the main doors I started feeling nervous. I had no idea what to expect, but something similar to how psychotherapy groups are portrayed in films was my sudden unforseen concern; everyone sat looking stony-faced, on chairs in a circle, all watching me walk in. Instantaneous anxiety. The reality was quite the opposite. I walked through the doors, timidly asking 'Is this the PND group?' But to my relief I was warmly welcomed in and instantly invited to help myself to a hot drink and biscuit, if desired, before I joined everyone else. Chocolate chip cookies and a cup of tea is always a good start!
It was all comfortably informal, no circle as I envisaged, instead a choice of chairs or floor. The floor was set up with a floor mat and toys so I opted for the floor with my son, in doing so joining another mummy and her 6 month old.
I was the last to arrive so we all briefly introduced ourselves. There was 2 ladies who were involved in running the session, 3 mummies and 2 babies.
I learnt that the group is there for us to meet one another and besides that, the time is for us to use as we wish. We chose to spend the hour and a half discussing our experiences of pre or post natal depression (in my case whilst constantly chasing my little one around the room). Honestly, I started off feeling apprehensive and I don't believe I was the only one, the other mummies also appeared shy but as soon as the ice was broken the atmosphere was so relaxed, it felt natural talking about anything (even my feelings!) with these women because they were so understanding. We shared ideas and advice we have learnt along the way including techniques for helping our partners to empathise with our feelings, the various baby groups available locally that we have tried out and general wellbeing tips. The 90 minutes went past so quickly. We agreed we would all return for the next meeting in 2 weeks time to continue our conflab.
On reflection of the morning, what stood out to me the most was that we are mums with different upbringings, all confronting depression, and therefore we can empathise with each other but most striking was the different symptoms we were experiencing. Our pre/post natal depression was showing itself in different ways, for some it is anxiety, low confidence, fatigue for others anger, guilt and frustration. It is an individual experience but a shared challenge. Our most common characteristic was our desire to fully recover and be us again.
Unfortunately for me, my group runs every other Tuesday, this means I can attend the next session but then I'm back to work on Tuesdays. Such a shame because I feel I would benefit from the support. It is such a valuable, free service and I would recommend the group to anyone going through post natal depression.
PANDAS website link
Finding your local PANDAS support group
Monday 17 October 2016
A surprising amount of normality
6 weeks into my Sertraline prescription and after my first talking therapy session, I could feel that I was starting to return to my old self.
Lets start with some background to my personality.
Since a nipper I have been non-stop active, fun loving, consciencous, caring and happy, but I have had some dips in my mood in the past, none of which required any kind of intervention though.
I've always been shy, when I was a youngster I was ridiculously timid. I recall a parents evening at the start of secondary school when my history teacher begged me, in front of my parents, to speak more in class. I am fairly certain that is an unusual request for a teacher to make.
I have never had much self confidence and I have always set my standards too high, never been satisfied with my own personal achievements. An example being my GCSE results day. I got 6 A's, 5 B's and a C. I was absolutely mortified by my C. Rather than being proud of my A's and B's, I was heartbroken by my C in Spanish. There is nothing bad about getting a C I'd like to add but I had worked so hard and to me I had failed myself. My Spanish ended up getting re-marked and was upped to a B but by then I had experienced total disappointment.
I know I should be proud of my achievements, I worked so very hard to get to where I am. I think the school systems are partly to blame (I "failed" my 11+ when it was expected I would pass, and then passed my 12+, I went off a grammar school where I was made to feel anything lower than a B wasn't good enough only to get a C in Spanish when I had been predicted an A, then at A level I got BBCD and was the only person out of all my friends not to get into university that year. I spent a year at home, whilst everyone else enjoyed uni life, and resat my exams) but my opinions on school assessment is another topic entirely. The point is, I set my standards high even at a young age and achieving didn't come easily to me. It wasnt until I was a sucessfully qualified 22 year old Physiotherapist, working with so many different people, patients and colleagues, from so many different backgrounds, and I was able to see that I was making a positive difference in their lives, that my self esteem began to improve. And over the 7 years since qualifying, I gradually became a much stronger person.
So back to the main point of this post. I didn't have a masses of confidence before I had post natal depression but the confidence I did have, had been built up over years of work , and so this monster had taken what confidence I had. I have had 11 months of feeling almost reclusive, with most conversation being no more complex than 'I think it's snack time' or 'have you done a poo? ' So I pleasantly surprised myself on a work course in London last week.
I have never been fazed when it comes to travelling so the trip alone to London did not daunt me one bit, but once in London my apprehensive, polite, introvert self took over again. It was rush hour and I missed the first 2 tubes for the sole reason that, unlike everyone else in Baker Street station, I didn't confidently and forcefully push my way onto a train that had not a single inch of space left on it, and I was left behind each time.
Eventually making it to London Bridge and into my course room, something unusual yet distantly familiar happened, I found myself chatting to the other strangers in the room, mostly health professionals, all with a neurological interest. I immediately saw some of that bygone confidence and my true identity making a reappearance. It wasn't until that point that I realised how long it's been since I saw this person and quite how much I've missed them!
The day continued in this way. We had to do a role play type task, my idea of a nightmare, but at the end of the task, the course leader asked for some feedback and to my astonishment I was the first person in the group to volunteer my opinion and to top it off, I got a laugh from the group! My history teacher would have been so proud.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a total transformation from the PND me to the old me, I had my moments, like when I couldn't figure out how the hot water jug worked and eventually, timidly and in embarrassment asked someone to help me. But the old me was definitely reminding me every so often that they are still there and to me this brought hope and a monumental, positive step in my recovery.
I got home from London and received big cuddles from my son, it had been a long day away from him, the longest so far, and I had really missed him but I had also enjoyed my day. I had used my grey matter, been involved in intellectual conversation with actual adults and it had allowed me to rediscover my own identity. Today I was me and not just E's mummy.
As I write this I'm watching my little boy, who is 3 weeks from his first birthday, pulling himself up to stand and waving at me and I finally feel proud of myself. It's been a tough journey these last 11 months, with big highs and lows but my son is a handsome, well behaved, albeit cheeky, intelligent little man and I played a massive role in that, I am truly seeing that now. Returning to work in 3 weeks time will be tough but stricking the right balance between being me and being E's mummy, I feel, will bring me back to that cheerful, confident person I was a year ago. Normality.
Lets start with some background to my personality.
Since a nipper I have been non-stop active, fun loving, consciencous, caring and happy, but I have had some dips in my mood in the past, none of which required any kind of intervention though.
I've always been shy, when I was a youngster I was ridiculously timid. I recall a parents evening at the start of secondary school when my history teacher begged me, in front of my parents, to speak more in class. I am fairly certain that is an unusual request for a teacher to make.
I have never had much self confidence and I have always set my standards too high, never been satisfied with my own personal achievements. An example being my GCSE results day. I got 6 A's, 5 B's and a C. I was absolutely mortified by my C. Rather than being proud of my A's and B's, I was heartbroken by my C in Spanish. There is nothing bad about getting a C I'd like to add but I had worked so hard and to me I had failed myself. My Spanish ended up getting re-marked and was upped to a B but by then I had experienced total disappointment.
I know I should be proud of my achievements, I worked so very hard to get to where I am. I think the school systems are partly to blame (I "failed" my 11+ when it was expected I would pass, and then passed my 12+, I went off a grammar school where I was made to feel anything lower than a B wasn't good enough only to get a C in Spanish when I had been predicted an A, then at A level I got BBCD and was the only person out of all my friends not to get into university that year. I spent a year at home, whilst everyone else enjoyed uni life, and resat my exams) but my opinions on school assessment is another topic entirely. The point is, I set my standards high even at a young age and achieving didn't come easily to me. It wasnt until I was a sucessfully qualified 22 year old Physiotherapist, working with so many different people, patients and colleagues, from so many different backgrounds, and I was able to see that I was making a positive difference in their lives, that my self esteem began to improve. And over the 7 years since qualifying, I gradually became a much stronger person.
So back to the main point of this post. I didn't have a masses of confidence before I had post natal depression but the confidence I did have, had been built up over years of work , and so this monster had taken what confidence I had. I have had 11 months of feeling almost reclusive, with most conversation being no more complex than 'I think it's snack time' or 'have you done a poo? ' So I pleasantly surprised myself on a work course in London last week.
I have never been fazed when it comes to travelling so the trip alone to London did not daunt me one bit, but once in London my apprehensive, polite, introvert self took over again. It was rush hour and I missed the first 2 tubes for the sole reason that, unlike everyone else in Baker Street station, I didn't confidently and forcefully push my way onto a train that had not a single inch of space left on it, and I was left behind each time.
Eventually making it to London Bridge and into my course room, something unusual yet distantly familiar happened, I found myself chatting to the other strangers in the room, mostly health professionals, all with a neurological interest. I immediately saw some of that bygone confidence and my true identity making a reappearance. It wasn't until that point that I realised how long it's been since I saw this person and quite how much I've missed them!
The day continued in this way. We had to do a role play type task, my idea of a nightmare, but at the end of the task, the course leader asked for some feedback and to my astonishment I was the first person in the group to volunteer my opinion and to top it off, I got a laugh from the group! My history teacher would have been so proud.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a total transformation from the PND me to the old me, I had my moments, like when I couldn't figure out how the hot water jug worked and eventually, timidly and in embarrassment asked someone to help me. But the old me was definitely reminding me every so often that they are still there and to me this brought hope and a monumental, positive step in my recovery.
I got home from London and received big cuddles from my son, it had been a long day away from him, the longest so far, and I had really missed him but I had also enjoyed my day. I had used my grey matter, been involved in intellectual conversation with actual adults and it had allowed me to rediscover my own identity. Today I was me and not just E's mummy.
As I write this I'm watching my little boy, who is 3 weeks from his first birthday, pulling himself up to stand and waving at me and I finally feel proud of myself. It's been a tough journey these last 11 months, with big highs and lows but my son is a handsome, well behaved, albeit cheeky, intelligent little man and I played a massive role in that, I am truly seeing that now. Returning to work in 3 weeks time will be tough but stricking the right balance between being me and being E's mummy, I feel, will bring me back to that cheerful, confident person I was a year ago. Normality.
Sunday 16 October 2016
An unexpected "bad" day
I had been taking antidepressants for over 5 weeks and I was definitely noticing the positive effect they were having. I reflected that it had been a few weeks since I last spontaneously burst into tears over something trivial, or since I had felt exasperated at my son for acting like the 11 month old that he is and I generally felt stronger in myself. So when I woke that Sunday morning with a gloomy, familiar feeling of hopelessness, I got worried.
From the moment I woke something felt wrong, I could tell instantly that today was going to be my worst day for a few weeks. I felt overwhelming fatigue before I had even started my day. It was the weekend so my partner was at home with me, this only added to my confusion, 'I have help today and yet I am already feeling down.' Unintentionally every thought, feeling and remark was obstructive and negative. It proceeded to be a mundane day but when my partner said he was going to pop into town, I began to panic. I became tearful. My partner could tell I wasn't feeling as upbeat as I had been, he asked me if I wanted to join him in town. 'No thanks' I replied. I wanted him to say he would take our son with him and give me a break but he then reminded me that my mood is worsened if I stay shut up in the house all day, plus he offered to do the driving so I agreed to join him.
Once in town I expected to feel better, I didn't. I slowly dawdled around the town centre pushing my son in his pram, whilst my partner did what he needed to. I didn't go onto any shops, I just didn't feel like it, I couldn't be bothered. Eventually I just stood outside Clarks shoe shop and waited for him to ring me. This was all too worryingly familiar. Once we were reunited and on our way home I just burst into tears. 'I thought I was doing better... maybe I do need to up my antidepressant dose... what if my body has acclimatised to the medication?' My partner replied, you're just having a bad day, we all have them.
Once I was home I genuinely felt better for having had some fresh air but deep inside me, my anxiety that this step backwards would continue was worsening.
Then that evening whilst cooking our dinner I picked up the baking tray, fresh out the oven, with no oven gloves on. It didn't really hurt as much as I expected but I swore out loud in instant embarrassment and turned towards my partner. He could tell I was uninjured and he began to laugh. Under normal circumstances I would have laughed with him, instead I just broke down. 'Why did I just do that? How stupid am I?! That's it, I've completely lost my mind, just when I thought my judgement and intellect were returning to normal!'
I went to bed early, my mind too preoccupied to switch off and fall asleep. A bad nights sleep followed.
When the following day arrived however, I felt great again, so much more positive! Just a blip I cheerfully told myself. Yet when my health visitor came to visit later that day for our first talking therapy session, she asked me how I was getting on and, without mentioning all the good days I've had recently, I went straight to dwelling on the previous day. My health visitor did a good job of bringing me back to my more optimistic self and reinforced the positive changes that I have felt. Contrary to my GP, she didn't feel I needed to up my antidepressant dose at this point in time, partly because I am strongly against the idea but also partly because of positive improvements in my general mood and my proactive approach to self help. Finally my health visitor reassured me completely, 'I expect some lower days, it is perfectly normal'.
There are lots of life changes coming up in the next month or so and my emotional state could go either one of two ways during that time, but I'm more prepared to face the most difficult days now and will tell myself with confidence that these are going to happen, and to remain strong. I remind myself that I'm doing well!
From the moment I woke something felt wrong, I could tell instantly that today was going to be my worst day for a few weeks. I felt overwhelming fatigue before I had even started my day. It was the weekend so my partner was at home with me, this only added to my confusion, 'I have help today and yet I am already feeling down.' Unintentionally every thought, feeling and remark was obstructive and negative. It proceeded to be a mundane day but when my partner said he was going to pop into town, I began to panic. I became tearful. My partner could tell I wasn't feeling as upbeat as I had been, he asked me if I wanted to join him in town. 'No thanks' I replied. I wanted him to say he would take our son with him and give me a break but he then reminded me that my mood is worsened if I stay shut up in the house all day, plus he offered to do the driving so I agreed to join him.
Once in town I expected to feel better, I didn't. I slowly dawdled around the town centre pushing my son in his pram, whilst my partner did what he needed to. I didn't go onto any shops, I just didn't feel like it, I couldn't be bothered. Eventually I just stood outside Clarks shoe shop and waited for him to ring me. This was all too worryingly familiar. Once we were reunited and on our way home I just burst into tears. 'I thought I was doing better... maybe I do need to up my antidepressant dose... what if my body has acclimatised to the medication?' My partner replied, you're just having a bad day, we all have them.
Once I was home I genuinely felt better for having had some fresh air but deep inside me, my anxiety that this step backwards would continue was worsening.
Then that evening whilst cooking our dinner I picked up the baking tray, fresh out the oven, with no oven gloves on. It didn't really hurt as much as I expected but I swore out loud in instant embarrassment and turned towards my partner. He could tell I was uninjured and he began to laugh. Under normal circumstances I would have laughed with him, instead I just broke down. 'Why did I just do that? How stupid am I?! That's it, I've completely lost my mind, just when I thought my judgement and intellect were returning to normal!'
I went to bed early, my mind too preoccupied to switch off and fall asleep. A bad nights sleep followed.
When the following day arrived however, I felt great again, so much more positive! Just a blip I cheerfully told myself. Yet when my health visitor came to visit later that day for our first talking therapy session, she asked me how I was getting on and, without mentioning all the good days I've had recently, I went straight to dwelling on the previous day. My health visitor did a good job of bringing me back to my more optimistic self and reinforced the positive changes that I have felt. Contrary to my GP, she didn't feel I needed to up my antidepressant dose at this point in time, partly because I am strongly against the idea but also partly because of positive improvements in my general mood and my proactive approach to self help. Finally my health visitor reassured me completely, 'I expect some lower days, it is perfectly normal'.
There are lots of life changes coming up in the next month or so and my emotional state could go either one of two ways during that time, but I'm more prepared to face the most difficult days now and will tell myself with confidence that these are going to happen, and to remain strong. I remind myself that I'm doing well!
Monday 10 October 2016
Pleasantly overwhelmed by love and support
I wrote my 'Postnatal depression' post over a week ago and it took me that long to find the courage to share it with my partner and mother. They both read the post and encouraged me to share my blog with my Facebook friends. So I did, last night, and that was a massive step for me.
Within minutes of sharing my blog, friends from all areas of my life started commenting. I nervously clicked to read the first comment and whilst I was reading, more comments appeared and my phone started bleeping next to me.
All the comments I have received are full of acknowledgement, understanding, positivity, support and love. Numerous people surprised as I 'hid it well', several shared their own experience of depression, postnatal depression and anxiety with me and many felt that my blog could help many other women in my position, which I really hope it does.
Thank you so much for all the support I have received so far, it really does mean a great deal to me and will definitely contribute to my recovery. It has inspired me to continue blogging my ongoing experience with postnatal depression.
Link to my Postnatal depression post
Within minutes of sharing my blog, friends from all areas of my life started commenting. I nervously clicked to read the first comment and whilst I was reading, more comments appeared and my phone started bleeping next to me.
All the comments I have received are full of acknowledgement, understanding, positivity, support and love. Numerous people surprised as I 'hid it well', several shared their own experience of depression, postnatal depression and anxiety with me and many felt that my blog could help many other women in my position, which I really hope it does.
Thank you so much for all the support I have received so far, it really does mean a great deal to me and will definitely contribute to my recovery. It has inspired me to continue blogging my ongoing experience with postnatal depression.
Link to my Postnatal depression post
Saturday 8 October 2016
Getting my stubborn monkey to sleep (life saving advice included)
My son has been a bad sleeper since he was born, giving me 1 or 2 hours a night for a very long time. I am sure part of the reason is errors I made as a newborn but I got no advice about what I was doing when he was a newborn.
For the first 6 weeks of his life I never once slept in my room with my partner, but spent my time downstairs trying to get him to sleep in his moses basket whilst I was on the sofa.
At 16 weeks we put him into his own room because we were out of options. In his own room he did sleep a little better, getting maybe 3 or 4 hours of disrupted sleep a night but still not ideal.
This chronic lack of sleep, in my opinion, was a major contributer to my postnatal depression.
At 10 months old, my health visitors got involved and with their help, my son now sleeps through the night. I am wanting to share the advice I was given in case it helps any other mums. But do be aware that the advice was taylored to us to correct what we were doing wrong. There may be something additional that has to change for others. Also bare in mind that my son was 10 months old so again some of this advice may not be given for younger babies.
For the first 6 weeks of his life I never once slept in my room with my partner, but spent my time downstairs trying to get him to sleep in his moses basket whilst I was on the sofa.
At 16 weeks we put him into his own room because we were out of options. In his own room he did sleep a little better, getting maybe 3 or 4 hours of disrupted sleep a night but still not ideal.
This chronic lack of sleep, in my opinion, was a major contributer to my postnatal depression.
At 10 months old, my health visitors got involved and with their help, my son now sleeps through the night. I am wanting to share the advice I was given in case it helps any other mums. But do be aware that the advice was taylored to us to correct what we were doing wrong. There may be something additional that has to change for others. Also bare in mind that my son was 10 months old so again some of this advice may not be given for younger babies.
- Make sure he's full each meal. I was advised no baby food which I was already doing except for breakfast he was having 10 month+ porridge. He should be eating cereals like weetabix. Also giving him a little cows milk with his afternoon snack.
- Put him down to bed awake, not almost asleep awake like I was, but very awake. I was encouraged to give him his bedtime feed and then brush his teeth and read him a story afterwards. Definitely not allow him to fall asleep whilst feeding.
- Put him to bed in a quiet, darkish room (I had been putting his cot mobile on).
- Leave the room but to continue to make noise upstairs (flushing the toilet, having a shower etc) so that he can hear that we are still around. (I had avoided making any noise because everything was waking him).
- When he wakes up during the night, do not feed him. He was associating going to sleep with a feed. I had to send my partner in when he woke initially because he could smell the milk on me making the process harder.
After I had implemented the above advice, which improved his sleep a little, I was then advised to do the following:
- After putting him to bed, if he starts crying, a real cry not a sleepy cry, then I was told I had to leave him for 5 minutes, then go in and place my hand on him for 15 seconds (not pick him up and not speak), then walk out the room again and repeat until he is asleep.
- Repeat this if he wakes up during the night.
I was not keen on doing this last bit of advice but I was so sleep deprived and it was affecting my health. Plus the nursery nurse who gave the advice was very confident it would be sucessful. I was out of options and decided to try it that night. It was tough. We repeated for 45 minutes until he fell asleep. He slept through the night!! The following night he cried for 30 minutes and we followed the advice to a T. Again he slept through! Such a difference to go from waking 5/6 times a night to sleeping through! This started over 3 weeks ago and apart from one wake up that was obviously teething related he has slept through every night. Plus since that second night, he hasn't cried at all at bedtime. He lies there chatting but quickly goes to sleep. We are both finally getting some much needed sleep. I'm a new woman.
Thursday 6 October 2016
Starting on antidepressants
When my GP diagnosed me with Postnatal Depression her first recommendation was that I start on an antidepressant, Sertraline was her antidepressant of choice. At the time she did not give me any other treatment options. In her words, she felt I needed to be 'more stable' before I would respond well to any other input.
I was very reluctant to start on antidepressants, in fact I went against her professional recommendation initially and didn't take them. This was not just my own selfish reluctance, I was also aware that it can pass into the breastmilk. It was my GPs opinion that the risks outweighed the benefits to my bubba (minimal risk of side effects to my baby verses a mum who was coping better). But she did also encourage me to cease breastfeeding. I went home and read some online research and still wasn't reassured.
4 weeks later when I met with my new health visitor I explained why I hadn't started on the Sertraline and how I wanted some other treatment options. She listened. It was explained to me that I was starting on a very low dose (50mg) and that the risks to my little man really were small especially as he only has two feeds a day from me now. She also disagreed that I should cease breastfeeding, and cited some research that concluded mood is lowered further in mothers who stop breastfeeding but are not ready to, but she wanted further treatment alongside the medication if I agreed to take it. She suggested Talking Therapy and input from their team to improve my son's sleep.
So I started taking 50mg of Sertraline (that was 5 weeks ago). I read all the possible side effects and I expected the first couple of weeks to be unpleasant but I barely noticed a difference. I felt slightly foggy and a marginally more sleepy for the first week and my appetite reduced a little but otherwise I was well. These minimal effect cleared after a week.
After 3 or so weeks I noticed that I was nowhere near as tearful as I had been and I was not taking absolutely everything to heart anymore. The medication was having a positive effect and, more importantly to me, didn't seem to be having any negative effects on my son. I was, however, also getting more sleep as the nursery nurses input had resulted in my son sleeping through the night. So my mood improvements were likely due to both these factors.
4 weeks into antidepressant treatment I had a review with my GP. She was pleased with my improvements and felt I was more positive. She still felt my confidence was down and that I would benefit from upping my Sertraline dose to 100mg. Again, she was unable to guarantee no side effects to my son. Again I have declined to follow her advice. I explained my trepidation and I compromised. My son is almost 11 months and I've always said that I want to breastfeed for 1 year. Over the next month I will begin to wean my bubba into cows milk and once he is fully weaned, if I still need to, I will up my dose.
I have some big changes happening over the coming month including returning to work, and I feel this may be a helpful step with regards to my well being. So we agreed to review how I was managing in 6 weeks time. So I will blog again in a few weeks to update.
Sunday 2 October 2016
Postnatal depression
I spent a long time convincing my partner that we were ready to have a baby, I've wanted to be a mummy for years. In December 2014, after over 8 years together and 3 in our own home, we both finally agreed it was the right time. So when the test was positive in March 2015 I was elated. I knew that having a baby was hard work and I wasn't going into it unprepared. Everything was ready for bubs arrival in November 2015.
I wasn't worried about the birth, I figured it would hurt a fair bit but pain doesn't worry me and I hadn't got a strict birthing plan. However I wasn't anticipating I would lose enough blood to require two units of blood transfused and three nights on the maternity high dependency unit. It was a dramatic shock to the system that left me anaemic and feeling totally drained for months. Additionally though having haemorrhaged caused delays in getting my milk supply so breastfeeding was challenging especially with a very hungry baby and that in turn resulted in some unattractive hysterical moments on my part. But that was the "baby blues". Fortunately for me I had my partner at home for a fortnight and then my mum came to help for a fortnight too.
In my exhausted state I quickly learnt that I had a baby that didn't want to sleep. From mid November until Christmas I never once slept in my bed, I was down on the sofa trying to get him to sleep all night and day. This lack of sleep was taking its toll. But that's all it was to me, 'a lack of sleep', causing me to spend hours during the night crying. Or having to wake my partner up at a horrendous hour on a work night saying 'take him before I have a total meltdown'.
Don't get me wrong, despite his refusal to sleep, I love my son with all my heart. I would want to cry as soon as he woke me up but as soon as I saw his little face, his smile, heard his giggle, my heart would melt. I felt so grateful to have him in my life. We did baby groups together, baby massage was a fave. We made sure we went to weighings every fortnight. We did everything together, went everywhere together, my little monkey refused to take a bottle so we couldn't spend any time apart even if we had wanted to. But I didn't want to, I had many offers of help, I think being a bit of a perfectionist, I didn't want anyone else doing my job. It was all consuming and exhausting though.
At 16 weeks I put him in his own room and he started to sleep for short periods, without needing to be in my arms! It was a miracle but I was still only getting 2/3 hours of broken sleep in a twenty four hour period. It was more than I had been getting. However, I was finding that every time he woke me up I would spend a very long time getting back to sleep. 'This constant lack of sleep had obviously made me an insomniac'. I would then get myself incredibly worked up, counting down the minutes until he was likely to wake again, stressing that I didn't get to sleep soon he'd be up again and I'd be going through the whole process again before I even got 30 seconds of sleep. When I did sleep I suffered recurring nightmares, one was dropping my son onto gravel and the other involved terrorists firing guns outside my house.
This was my battle repeatedly every night.
Then when I wasn't awake in bed, I was awake downstairs looking at my untidy, not clean enough house. Getting angry that I'm such a useless stay at home mum. My house is such a mess, what must people think. I'm on maternity leave and I can do nothing more than feed, change and play with my son. I also lost the ability to find the right words, my partner was getting frustrated by how long it took me to get a sentence out. I felt stupid, my memory was poor. 'My house is a mess, I'm a total mess'. Additionally I found no matter how early my son woke me, we still couldn't get out if the house for hours. As the months past I could only think 'how am I going to manage back at work. Cooking, cleaning, raising my son and working, if I can't even manage the first 3 things with all this work free time'. And how on earth am I going to get my son to nursery and myself to work by 8.30!!! As it got nearer to returning to work this became an increasing anxiety.
I stopped going out as much, it was too much of an effort. And going out presented all sorts if problems, like having to make myself look reasonable, finding places to subtly breastfeed and finding some clothing that hid my awful, hideous jelly belly. Going out also added all sorts of anxieties like having to park my car 'where is there to park?! Will it be easy to park?! 'What if I mess up my parking and it embarrassingly takes several attempts?!' If any of these concerns became reality then I would burst into tears. I even feared going into my back garden to clean out my rabbits hutch and leaving my son in his play pen. One morning I was panicking whilst I was out there, that he might be suffocating on his V cushion, even though he's a strong lad and could easily roll and sit up. It was a completely irrational anxiety. I literally had no confidence and it was all too stressful.
It took me a long while to realise that those "baby blues" were going on much longer than they should be. So being a health professional I used my knowledge to try and overcome these episodes of low mood. I knew exercise can be very effective so I walked, I walked every day, I walked everywhere (no parking required). I also started doing #100happydays on Facebook. I really felt it was working, it got me out every day (for the sole reason that I didn't want my life to look dull to all my Facebook friends so I organised something to do everyday that I could then post later). I got some negative comments from "friends" regarding having to see a post and probably a photo of my son on their news feed every day. Despite that, I completed the 100 days and I genuinely enjoyed getting out. I want to make it clear that I have had many great days and incredibly enjoyable moments since my son was born.
After my #100happydays ended I stopped going out as often. I was getting more emotional again, the fear of going out returned. I went into McDonald's with my partner on two occasions, the lack of pram space and struggling to find a table, whilst my partner purchased our food, ended with my becoming publicly hysterical and eating my eat in McDonald's off a tray sat on a wall in the cold whilst sobbing uncontrollably onto my partners shoulder.
Why was I feeling like this?! 'I have the most gorgeous, well behaved, healthy little boy in the world. I have a supportive partner and family, I have no reason to be feeling so down in the dumps. Many people would do anything to be in my situation. Apart from a chronic lack of sleep, my situation is perfect. My son is perfect and I love him so much'. He still cheers me up and makes me laugh regularly.
At 9 months old my son fell whilst I was getting him out of his highchair and landed head first on the solid kitchen floor. I had to take him to A&E. I was officially the WORST mum in the world. I felt unbelievable guilt and was so angry with myself. I felt I deserved something horrible for causing this pain to my son. I started getting the awful feeling that my son would not be in my life forever and that filled me with excessive fear. Then my trepidation heightened when a week later we were back in A&E as he had a raging temperature and was severely projectile vomiting and going drowsy. It was so upsetting and stressful, I was thinking the worst. It turned out to be a horrible viral tonsillitis but it could have been so much worse. The virus caused over a week of diarrhoea which was truly exhausting for both of us. I was back and forth to the GP to make sure that after all the sickness and diarrhoea he wasn't getting dehydrated. But all this, in some ways, was a blessing in disguise. The GP we saw picked up on my low mood and after seeing us the 2nd time, requested I return on my own. She made me see that all these feelings I've had for over 9 months are not normal. She diagnosed me with Postnatal Depression.
I was started on antidepressants and my GP re-referred me to the health visitors who have since organised "talking therapy" to go alongside the medication and the nursery nurse to improve my son's sleep.
At 10 and half months old he's finally gone from waking 5 or 6 times a night to sleeping through!!! Sleep combined with antidepressants, talking and a few work related days have made me feel almost myself. I've spent Wednesdays with my mum for a little while now and more recently my partner, mother, mother in law and my sister have all been looking after my little one to allow me some time to go to work, clean the house, attend netball training or just rest which has been a great help. I shouldn't have refused their offers of help before now. It's still early days, I have some difficult days still, and for fear of causing an awkward, gloomy conversation, I've told very few people I have postnatal depression but I am getting there.
Why didn't I ask for help? Why didn't I tell anyone how I was feeling? Why did I make out I was doing well this whole time? Why was I trying to do it all? Why am I embarrassed by my diagnosis?
Because that's me, I never ask for help, I needed someone else to tell me how I was feeling wasn't "normal". Admitting that I was not coping or accepting offers of help from my family made me feel like I was failing as a mother.
I am one of a number of people who go through their own experience of postnatal depression (10% of all new mums). As I go through my therapy, I aim to keep a blog record of my participation in treatment, continue documenting my own personal journey with postnatal depression.
Some links that may be of interest.
I had a black dog, his name was depression
Pre and postnatal depression advice and support PANDAS
Local free counselling
How to help your partner when she has PND
NHS Postnatal Depression
High functioning postpartum depression
I wasn't worried about the birth, I figured it would hurt a fair bit but pain doesn't worry me and I hadn't got a strict birthing plan. However I wasn't anticipating I would lose enough blood to require two units of blood transfused and three nights on the maternity high dependency unit. It was a dramatic shock to the system that left me anaemic and feeling totally drained for months. Additionally though having haemorrhaged caused delays in getting my milk supply so breastfeeding was challenging especially with a very hungry baby and that in turn resulted in some unattractive hysterical moments on my part. But that was the "baby blues". Fortunately for me I had my partner at home for a fortnight and then my mum came to help for a fortnight too.
In my exhausted state I quickly learnt that I had a baby that didn't want to sleep. From mid November until Christmas I never once slept in my bed, I was down on the sofa trying to get him to sleep all night and day. This lack of sleep was taking its toll. But that's all it was to me, 'a lack of sleep', causing me to spend hours during the night crying. Or having to wake my partner up at a horrendous hour on a work night saying 'take him before I have a total meltdown'.
Don't get me wrong, despite his refusal to sleep, I love my son with all my heart. I would want to cry as soon as he woke me up but as soon as I saw his little face, his smile, heard his giggle, my heart would melt. I felt so grateful to have him in my life. We did baby groups together, baby massage was a fave. We made sure we went to weighings every fortnight. We did everything together, went everywhere together, my little monkey refused to take a bottle so we couldn't spend any time apart even if we had wanted to. But I didn't want to, I had many offers of help, I think being a bit of a perfectionist, I didn't want anyone else doing my job. It was all consuming and exhausting though.
At 16 weeks I put him in his own room and he started to sleep for short periods, without needing to be in my arms! It was a miracle but I was still only getting 2/3 hours of broken sleep in a twenty four hour period. It was more than I had been getting. However, I was finding that every time he woke me up I would spend a very long time getting back to sleep. 'This constant lack of sleep had obviously made me an insomniac'. I would then get myself incredibly worked up, counting down the minutes until he was likely to wake again, stressing that I didn't get to sleep soon he'd be up again and I'd be going through the whole process again before I even got 30 seconds of sleep. When I did sleep I suffered recurring nightmares, one was dropping my son onto gravel and the other involved terrorists firing guns outside my house.
This was my battle repeatedly every night.
Then when I wasn't awake in bed, I was awake downstairs looking at my untidy, not clean enough house. Getting angry that I'm such a useless stay at home mum. My house is such a mess, what must people think. I'm on maternity leave and I can do nothing more than feed, change and play with my son. I also lost the ability to find the right words, my partner was getting frustrated by how long it took me to get a sentence out. I felt stupid, my memory was poor. 'My house is a mess, I'm a total mess'. Additionally I found no matter how early my son woke me, we still couldn't get out if the house for hours. As the months past I could only think 'how am I going to manage back at work. Cooking, cleaning, raising my son and working, if I can't even manage the first 3 things with all this work free time'. And how on earth am I going to get my son to nursery and myself to work by 8.30!!! As it got nearer to returning to work this became an increasing anxiety.
I stopped going out as much, it was too much of an effort. And going out presented all sorts if problems, like having to make myself look reasonable, finding places to subtly breastfeed and finding some clothing that hid my awful, hideous jelly belly. Going out also added all sorts of anxieties like having to park my car 'where is there to park?! Will it be easy to park?! 'What if I mess up my parking and it embarrassingly takes several attempts?!' If any of these concerns became reality then I would burst into tears. I even feared going into my back garden to clean out my rabbits hutch and leaving my son in his play pen. One morning I was panicking whilst I was out there, that he might be suffocating on his V cushion, even though he's a strong lad and could easily roll and sit up. It was a completely irrational anxiety. I literally had no confidence and it was all too stressful.
It took me a long while to realise that those "baby blues" were going on much longer than they should be. So being a health professional I used my knowledge to try and overcome these episodes of low mood. I knew exercise can be very effective so I walked, I walked every day, I walked everywhere (no parking required). I also started doing #100happydays on Facebook. I really felt it was working, it got me out every day (for the sole reason that I didn't want my life to look dull to all my Facebook friends so I organised something to do everyday that I could then post later). I got some negative comments from "friends" regarding having to see a post and probably a photo of my son on their news feed every day. Despite that, I completed the 100 days and I genuinely enjoyed getting out. I want to make it clear that I have had many great days and incredibly enjoyable moments since my son was born.
After my #100happydays ended I stopped going out as often. I was getting more emotional again, the fear of going out returned. I went into McDonald's with my partner on two occasions, the lack of pram space and struggling to find a table, whilst my partner purchased our food, ended with my becoming publicly hysterical and eating my eat in McDonald's off a tray sat on a wall in the cold whilst sobbing uncontrollably onto my partners shoulder.
Why was I feeling like this?! 'I have the most gorgeous, well behaved, healthy little boy in the world. I have a supportive partner and family, I have no reason to be feeling so down in the dumps. Many people would do anything to be in my situation. Apart from a chronic lack of sleep, my situation is perfect. My son is perfect and I love him so much'. He still cheers me up and makes me laugh regularly.
At 9 months old my son fell whilst I was getting him out of his highchair and landed head first on the solid kitchen floor. I had to take him to A&E. I was officially the WORST mum in the world. I felt unbelievable guilt and was so angry with myself. I felt I deserved something horrible for causing this pain to my son. I started getting the awful feeling that my son would not be in my life forever and that filled me with excessive fear. Then my trepidation heightened when a week later we were back in A&E as he had a raging temperature and was severely projectile vomiting and going drowsy. It was so upsetting and stressful, I was thinking the worst. It turned out to be a horrible viral tonsillitis but it could have been so much worse. The virus caused over a week of diarrhoea which was truly exhausting for both of us. I was back and forth to the GP to make sure that after all the sickness and diarrhoea he wasn't getting dehydrated. But all this, in some ways, was a blessing in disguise. The GP we saw picked up on my low mood and after seeing us the 2nd time, requested I return on my own. She made me see that all these feelings I've had for over 9 months are not normal. She diagnosed me with Postnatal Depression.
I was started on antidepressants and my GP re-referred me to the health visitors who have since organised "talking therapy" to go alongside the medication and the nursery nurse to improve my son's sleep.
At 10 and half months old he's finally gone from waking 5 or 6 times a night to sleeping through!!! Sleep combined with antidepressants, talking and a few work related days have made me feel almost myself. I've spent Wednesdays with my mum for a little while now and more recently my partner, mother, mother in law and my sister have all been looking after my little one to allow me some time to go to work, clean the house, attend netball training or just rest which has been a great help. I shouldn't have refused their offers of help before now. It's still early days, I have some difficult days still, and for fear of causing an awkward, gloomy conversation, I've told very few people I have postnatal depression but I am getting there.
Why didn't I ask for help? Why didn't I tell anyone how I was feeling? Why did I make out I was doing well this whole time? Why was I trying to do it all? Why am I embarrassed by my diagnosis?
Because that's me, I never ask for help, I needed someone else to tell me how I was feeling wasn't "normal". Admitting that I was not coping or accepting offers of help from my family made me feel like I was failing as a mother.
I am one of a number of people who go through their own experience of postnatal depression (10% of all new mums). As I go through my therapy, I aim to keep a blog record of my participation in treatment, continue documenting my own personal journey with postnatal depression.
Some links that may be of interest.
I had a black dog, his name was depression
Pre and postnatal depression advice and support PANDAS
Local free counselling
How to help your partner when she has PND
NHS Postnatal Depression
High functioning postpartum depression
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