The Juggling Act: Out of the Shadows
It's taken me two days to sit down and write this blog.
I've been busy, but I’ve also been procrastinating.
I didn't know quite where to start... how to start... what to say.... about an issue that dogs more of us than you may realise.
So, my strategy was avoidance.
Then I realised avoidance is probably what has turned this issue into such a problem.
Depression. The Black Dog. In particular - post natal depression (PND). Over 1800 new parents are diagnosed with the disorder each week in Australia, yet it's almost a taboo topic.
Having a baby is supposed to be a joyous time. If you believe the nappy ads, babies sleep and coo, while well-rested, slim and attractive parents laugh and sip tea in their sparkling clean, well-ordered homes.
The truth is - it's not a walk in the park. Sure there are moments like the nappy ads, but mostly having a baby is pure hard work. It’s physically and emotionally exhausting.
The reason I'm delving here is to tell the story of a friend of friend.
A week ago, Brisbane lost her: a new mum. 39 years old. Smart. Well-travelled. Successful. Highly-respected. Much-loved.
It wasn't cancer or a car accident that claimed her... but her own hand.
I won’t go into details, but it happened at a major shopping centre, when she managed to slip away from her family.
She'd been having a day out from the hospital where she was being treated for post natal depression.
Sadly no one could reach her or pull her from the depths of the dark place she was in.
The media doesn't report cases like this - and there are excellent reasons why.
However it does mean that the mental illnesses behind such an action are not brought into the open and discussed as they should be. Instead they are hidden and make those who suffer them feel inadequate and abnormal.
No amount of warning can prepare you for the arrival of a baby. I don't know how many expecting friends have said to me after their child is born - 'I thought we'd be different', or 'I had no idea'.
I was exactly the same. I was never diagnosed with PND, but when my son was born, I was completely overwhelmed.
To outsiders, I made sure it looked like I was coping. But at home, there were days where I was a blithering mess.
My boy didn't cry - he screamed - loud and long. He took hours to settle and then would sleep in short snatches - day and night.
I was someone who was always in control: highly organised and multi-functioning. The lack of control almost did my head in.
I expected this little boy to fit into the routine I had planned for him within two weeks. But it was many months before, together, we’d settled on a routine... of sorts.
There was no time out. My own body felt like it didn't belong to me. I grieved for the loss of the person I used to be. I felt hopelessly inadequate and constantly anxious. When it was approaching feed time, or wake-up time, my heart would pound, my palms would sweat and my thoughts would scatter. Extreme sleep deprivation made it worse - compounded by the fact my husband worked night shifts and was so exhausted he had nothing left to give.
There were nights when my son started screaming at 6pm (just as my husband started work) and finally fall asleep at 3am - only to wake two hours later and start the process again.
If I had a good day, I would try to repeat it EXACTLY to the minute, to see if I'd somehow unlocked the secret to dealing with him.
It didn't work.
Other mums around me would happily tell me that their little ones were sleeping through.
I wanted to punch them.
An excellent night for me, was getting up 3 times. On a bad night, I'd be up and down a dozen times.
At the obligatory 6 week check-up, my obstetrician asked if motherhood was what I’d expected it to be... I remember saying that it was about 1000 times worse and my expectations were had not been that high to start with.
Fortunately, I had an awesome neighbour (let's call her Karen) . Her son Joe is three years older than mine.
I didn't see Karen for months after Joe was born. When I finally caught sight of her in the garden, I casually asked how things were going. She replied that she'd just experienced the worst five months of her life. She'd spent weeks at Belmont Private Hospital with little Joe - battling PND.
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't even begin to understand.... until my own son was born.
When I felt my world was closing in, Karen would listen and share her experiences - making me feel normal.
Eventually, the black days became less and less. When my second child was born - I was far more prepared. As an added bonus, my daughter was a more settled baby, which made it easier for me.
Both my kids are now lovely and loving little people (when they're not fighting) - who are the lights of my life.
As I mentioned, I was not diagnosed with Post Natal Depression. And knowing how difficult my experience was, I can't even begin to imagine how hard PND would be to overcome.
This is why we need to open the discussion: bring it out into the spotlight to try to prevent tragedies like the one that happened a week ago at a suburban shopping centre.
Because now an 11 week old girl will grow up without her mum.
She won't be there to play 'this little piggy' on her chubby baby toes; to tie ribbons in her pigtails on her first day of school; or to teach her to sing the classics of ABBA into a hairbrush.
And that breaks my heart.
For anyone needing support for PND - go to panda.org.au or contact the Belmont Private Hospital in Brisbane on 1800 700 274
Follow Sally on Twitter @SallyEeles
