My struggle with postnatal anxiety
Behind the filtered Facebook photos, the loving inspirational quotes, the sometimes fake smiles and the wonderful egotistical high, there's a thing called real life. For me, this was never more true than when I gave birth to our beautiful baby girl. What I portrayed to the world through social media, was a happy, content new mum who knew exactly what she was doing as if I simply took to the new role as a Mother like a duck to water. What you didn't see was the fear, the confusion, the stress, the tears, the cracked bleeding nipples, the disgusting dirty clothes I wore for weeks on end, the long nights pacing the hall, rocking my baby and crying to my husband that I can't do this. Anxiety is something I'm very familiar with, I've always been an anxious person but this...... this was something else.
Scarlett was born at 2.59am we were taken up to our room to get some rest. I couldn't sleep, my adrenaline was through the roof. I stood, I rocked, I kissed, I attempted to feed and hold this beautiful baby who was all mine. The day went by, visitors came and left. Night time came and yet again, I couldn't sleep. The midwife instructed me to rest.....REST? I thought, THERES A TINY HUMAN WHOSE LIFE I AM ENTIRELY RESPONSIBLE FOR!!! HOW ON EARTH AM I SUPPOSED TO REST??? I laid down in the hospital bed eyes wide open and an overwhelming sense of fear washed through my body like a tumbling wave. I was hot, my palms were sweating I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I suddenly remembered I hadn't even tried to feed my baby for 5 hours? How often was she supposed to be fed? No one told me? Is she starving? Is she breathing? I sat up I stared at her chest rising and falling and I was fixed on this all night.
My husband slept soundly in the bed next to me. As I looked at this tiny being, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. What have I done? I don't deserve this gift, I'm 23 years old. I don't know what I'm doing, I can't do this, I don't know how to be a Mum. At that moment Scarlett began to cry. My heart pounded, my breathing was rapid I knew she was hungry but she wasn't latching and I was embarrassed to ask for help. I'm supposed to know these things, I'm a Mum now. I should be able to feed my baby. I heard the footsteps of the midwife and I knew I needed to ask for help. "She's hungry" I quickly said, "but she's not latching, can you help me, please?" She obliged, Scarlett wouldn't latch. She grabbed a syringe, hand pumped my breast and fed my baby through a syringe. My heart broke, I can't feed my baby. I didn't understand, in my mind I would place my baby to my breast and she would feed and I would put her back to sleep. Why was it so hard for me? "Should I give her formula?" I asked immediately, to which she responded "Absolutely not. Your body is designed to feed your baby, you keep at it. You'll both get it. There's a breastfeeding class at 7am, I suggest you attend." my heart pounded again as I settled back down to bed. 48hours I had been awake at this point and still no urge to sleep.
The breastfeeding class was filled with new mums showing how well their baby was latching. I sat in my seat praying that Scarlett didn't wake so I didn't have the embarrassment of trying to feed her in front of everyone, knowing full well I couldn't. That day we went home, my baby wasn't feeding but we were sent home and I was told to keep at it.
We arrived home and Scarlett was screaming. "She's starving" I stressed to Luke. He calmed me down, he told me it was going to be ok. He remembered what they taught us in the class and said he would help. He picked Scarlett up out of her bassinet as I unclipped my maternity bra to reveal my sore, swollen breast. Luke positioned Scarlett for me as she pulled away and screamed, milk poured out all over her face. I cried, I sent Luke to the chemist to buy a syringe similar to the nurse used I even asked him to buy some formula. I stood and rocked and cried, she cried. I was devastated, this was not how I imagined our first days. No one warned me this would happen. We fed her several times with the syringe while attempting to breastfeed each time. The next day the midwife arrived. She weighed Scarlett, Scarlett had lost more than 10% of her body weight, this was a huge concern. I told the midwife I couldn't feed her and told her I was going to offer formula, she begged me to keep at it, and promised it would get easier. The midwife was returning in 2 days and if Scarlett hadn't gained the appropriate weight, she would allow me to consider formula. I cried again, in fact I fell apart. Luke sent me for a walk to catch my breath while he watched Scarlett. When I returned he told me he would support me however I chose to feed our baby. He just wanted us both happy. That same day, as if some miracle occured, Scarlett latched. My nipples were bleeding and feeding was excruciating but I was overjoyed that she was finally feeding. At the follow up appointment she had gained weight, up and beyong her birth weight. She was finally thriving.
I still had very little appetite and even when Scarlett slept, I found it very difficult to sleep. I lost a lot of weight, I weighed 46kg 3 months after giving birth "Wow, look how quickly you bounced back." people would comment, I'd politely smile. They had no idea why, and for me, 'bouncing back' was the farthest thing from my mind. This was life, I thought to myself. This was how life changed when you had a baby. Little did I know, this was something so much more than a baby. This was something more serious. How I felt, wasn't normal and it went on for months. I can't even describe the pressure I felt on my chest daily, it was hard to breathe, my hands shook constantly, I could feel my heat pounding hard through my chest night and day, I opened our front door and felt afraid to leave. I was consumed in this cloud of fear, the love I had for our precious baby girl was so overwhelming I no longer enjoyed life. I completely feared it. I was so terrified of losing the one thing I loved more than anything in this world that I became afraid to live. I feared night time the most. As soon as the sun would go down my heart sank even further, I sat, tapped my foot and picked my fingers, this was the loneliest time. Sometimes I left the tv on all night, it was a comforting reminder that life was still going on around me and that maybe someone else was up watching the same thing I was, maybe I wasn't alone.
There is a significant difference between postnatal depression and postnatal anxiety, I was not depressed. I didn't dislike my new life, I didn't regret becoming a Mum, I never experienced frightening thoughts, I never wished harm upon myself or Scarlett, in fact it was quite the opposite. I loved this baby more than I ever imagined I could, I was terrified of losing her and I didn't feel as though I was enough for her. The brave face I put on for social media was also put on for friends and family. I'm extremely close to my family, if they weren't visiting they were on the phone. They knew I was having a tough time feeding but they didn't know the extent of my anxiety or that I hadn't eaten or slept in weeks. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't tired. My heart pounded a million miles an hour and my hands were constantly shaking. I didn't want them to know, I didn't want anyone to know. I already knew I'd failed, I'd failed my husband and more importantly I'd failed Scarlett. I simply couldn't bear the thought of anyone else knowing.
One Sunday, while walking with Luke and Scarlett in the pram he acknowledged how beautiful the day was. Is it? I thought... I hadn't even noticed. I was so consumed with the comfort of Scarlett, was she too hot, too cold? Was her pram on the right angle. I stopped for the first time in weeks and looked directly to the sky. It was blue with a few fluffy clouds, the air was warm. I closed my eyes as I felt the summer breeze brush over me as I inhaled a deep breath. In that moment, I remembered the world was still spinning. The days we're going by and my baby was growing and healthy. I took my first sigh of relief and as we returned home I immediately felt exhausted. I went straight to bed and slept properly slept for the first time since Scarlett was born.
Three years later, I'm a mum of two and considering a 3rd. Social media was my biggest nemesis when in reality it could have been my greatest support. I was surrounded by beautiful images and loving Mums on instagram showcasing their seemingly perfect life. I couldn't bear to share the truth and now I wish I did. For I know, if someone else shared their truth in experiencing something similar the expectation I put upon myself would be far less, I'd take comfort in the fact that I wasn't alone and I'd have likely felt confident not ashamed to share my struggles. Because who knows, my struggles may be just the one thing that helps someone else.
