I am a 29 year old mother to two beautiful (annoying, horrible, trying) children, aged 5 and 6; I am also engaged to a wonderful (annoying, horrible, trying ;) ) man, with whom I am very lucky to be able to share my ups and downs with.
Motherhood has not been an easy road for me in many ways - I was 21 when I fell pregnant with X, it was unexpected and the (incredibly loved) result of irresponsibility. From day dot in my pregnancy I was incredibly sick, soul-destroyingly sick to be honest; I was terrified; I constantly vomited, fainted, had acid reflux and a swollen spine. This lasted until delivery. The depression when it hit was intense, I had never experienced anything like it, but would challenge pretty much anyone who was in my position to feel any different; my sickness was so all consuming that I left university, went months without working, and was often house bound. I don't think you can truly appreciate how bad a pregnancy can be unless you go through a horror one -I had the old 'you're not sick, you're pregnant' thrown at me, and all it did was culminate my feelings of failure - in my head, I had done pregnancy so badly that surely I was going to fail at mothering too. I think that my pregnancy with X started my obsession with my children, and that I wasn't good enough for them; that no matter how intense my love for them was (and it was intense from extremely early in the pregnancy), they would always deserve better. These feelings still rear their ugly head when I am down now.
Luckily, with X's delivery came freedom again, I was so incredibly happy and in love with my tiny son; he was, and still is, my everything. I have never experienced a love so consuming as what I did for X, with that came it's own sets of fears. what will I do if something ever happens to him? How do I keep him safe from everything? How do I stop him growing so he'll always be my baby?? Thankfully these only popped into my had when I was sleep-deprived! The first year and a half of X's life was incredible - I had no anxiety or depression, and I simply basked in the glory of my son, and of motherhood.
When X was 10 months old, I found out that i was pregnant again - after the initial excitement, the harsh reality set in. Another pregnancy. My partner, D, and I openly discussed termination; we weren't ready to go through another 9 months of hell, and we both believed that X should be our priority at the time. Ultimately, I couldn't go through with a termination, and the pregnancy continued - it was still intense, but not as bad as X's; maybe having him there was my saving grace - i could focus on him, and the ultimate outcome of my pregnancy. M was born 18 months to the day after X, her c/section was very empowering, and again my love for her rendered me speechless; my precious, ginger baby girl.
The first 12 weeks of M's life were the best of my life, I felt on top of the world with my tiny girl and my incredible blue-eyed boy - I couldn't believe how lucky i was to feel so amazing.
Then out of nowhere, I was exhausted - I felt like I could barely function. I blamed it on being the mum of 2 very young little people. But it was more than that. One morning driving over the gateway bridge, my first full-blown panic attack hit; I was at the peak of the bridge, with my 2 babies in the back seat, and i thought we were all going to die. I wound down all the windows and tried to focus on just getting us over the bridge - i felt i was either going to stop and cause an accident, or drive over the edge to our deaths. It was the scariest moment of my life, hands down. I reached my destination and felt so depleted of energy, but ignored the signs, simply believing i was just tired. A few days later, I was asked to do a few shifts at work in the city, I jumped at the chance. The first shift I had, I was so overwhelmed - the people, the smells and being away from my babies. Driving home, I was again hit by all-consuming panic. I felt trapped in my car, with no one around to take responsibility for me. I pulled over and my MIL came to get me; she voiced her concerns that i was getting PND, and that i needed to see my Dr.
*WARNING - CAN BE CONFRONTING*
Seeing my Gp was my lifesaver, after many blood tests, it was discovered that every iota of iron had been depleted from my body; my levels were the lowest my medical practitioners had ever seen. I don't think i had ever been so glad to find out there was something wrong with me - it meant i wasn't just crazy. I started on iron injections every second day (these were accompanied by anti-nausea injections, as they made me vomit); as well as VIT D tablets which i was also very deficient in. Then the depression set in, and my anxiety was unspeakable - I could not be left alone, and was in a constant state of terror; thoughts of suicide were a constant soundtrack in my head, which led to thoughts of infanticide. My logic was that my children could never be hurt by the cruelties of life, if i took them out first, and then myself - unlike many PND sufferers, i never became disengaged from my children, I became more and more obsessive. These thought terrified me, and so began the very long (and still continuing) road to recovery began.
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