It was 30 years ago when I experienced a 4 yearlong Post Natal Depression. At that time, it was not spoken about. I thought I was a dreadful mum and had never heard of or spoken to any other Mumma experiencing this horrendous ordeal.
My family said I was just feeling tired because I had a baby who didn’t sleep.
When I prayed asking God “Why did you let this Mental Illness happen to me”. I felt the spirit responding, “So that you can share your story and make a difference in the lives of other Mums travelling the similar path”. I had no idea how I could do this, so I just kept it in the back of my mind.
You see this was with my third daughter, and I knew there was something wrong. Had it been my first I wouldn’t have been so distressed. Before that I had never said the word depressed. I loved being a mum and wanted 4 children. We had even bought a tarago car to fit them in.
But my dream of 2 girls and 2 boys ended with my 3rd girl. My pregnancy had been different, and everyone had convinced me it would be a boy. But no. My labour was 24 hours and my other 2 were 3 hours and 4 hours. Go figure.
I enjoyed my time in hospital, only a few days, and when my husband brought my other 2 girls up on the day we brought her home I was so full of joy. I was struggling with her breast feeding but was told that pain is to be expected at first. But it didn’t stop. I persevered for 3 months and then on one of our many doctors' trips I talked about the pain I was experiencing when my milk let down to the doctor.
His attitude was that I should wean her, and he gave me tablets to dry up my milk and a tin of formula. I had fed the other 2 girls for a year and here I was giving this baby a bottle and felt guilty and ashamed.
That’s when the depression set in. I was just constantly exhausted. I often didn’t react when she cried. I would just leave her and not pick her up. She was not a child who liked to be cuddled. She would pull away and preferred to drink her bottle lying on the floor. A very inquisitive child.
About 3 months later I had been invited to a Pram Service where Mums had some quiet time in a short church service and the church ladies would mind the littles. One day we read Psalm 18 and I read a verse which God hears your cry and reached down and saved you.
My thought was, "Why didn’t I realise that before. I fell in love with Jesus and gave my life to Jesus that day. I had been brought up in the church but gave up on God when my dad died when I was 16. I had prayed for God to heal him for years, but he passed away at 51 years old.
So, after another 6 months, one night I just broke down and couldn’t stop crying. Next day I went to a new female doctor, and she diagnosed Post Partum Depression and prescribed Antidepressant medication and a referral to a psychiatrist. The medication did nothing and the Psychiatrist was a waste of time. It was like her first year was just a blur. I don’t remember her first steps or first birthday. I see photos of her as a tiny Bub and don’t remember that black haired baby. So sad.
So, on it went. I joined a playgroup when she was one year old. I was just a good pretender and actor as I appeared to be fine to everyone else. I used to always complain about her and was very negative, which was not like me. My whole personality changed.
My husband didn’t cope with my mood changes. There was a time when my husband and I went to marriage counselling, and he announced that he felt we should break up as he felt I was not a good enough mother to his girls, and he wanted me to leave. I was determined to stay as my situation was temporary and would improve in time. We battled on but I was not as much in love with him after that.
I continued trying to find help from him as the antidepressants never worked. I tried counsellors, psychologists and psychiatrists and finally one Christian counsellor said that I was going backwards and not getting any better after 4 years of PPD. She said I needed a break from everything. She wrote a place I could go to if I didn’t want to go to the hospital, so I picked up the paper and went home. I didn’t feel like I deserved to spend the money on me but ended up going for a break. I told my husband that I loved him, but he didn’t understand why I would need a break.
That weekend I just had total rest and a bit of fun. I was feeling so bad that I was even considering taking my life. In the end I just totally surrendered my life to God and gave it to him. That weekend I was healed. I went to pick up my girl from Preschool and apparently there had been a Child Psychiatrist assessing her and it was said that she had a bad self-image because the arms and legs on her paintings didn’t touch the body. It was also said that she would not be ready for school next year.
I did not agree, and she was upset. I wanted to be her champion. I had never felt that feeling for her before. I asked her if she liked the Preschool, and she said she liked the Day Care she went to last year. They welcomed her with open arms and had a vacancy for her. That was the turning point in my life.
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