Part 2: My Postpartum Story with PND

 
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Part 2.

So it’s this part of my motherhood story I have frequently debated about sharing, but if these past 10 months have taught me anything, it is that honesty and vulnerability is what we mums need more of. There is nothing wrong with mum bloggers with slick Instagram feeds but it can create such a distorted lens of what motherhood is really like. Life isn’t static, it’s gritty and messy and sometimes throws things at us we would never have expected. I never imagined this would be part of my story. To anyone in the valleys now - you are not alone. There is hope and light and help available.

*NOTE: if you are pregnant or trying to conceive, please exercise wisdom when reading this. My intention is not to frighten anyone but to add to the evolving conversation around maternal mental health and it’s importance.

When I was pregnant, I actually gave very very little thought to the postpartum period. I found so much emphasis was placed on the labour, that very little attention was given to what you actually do when you have a baby! Nothing could have ultimately prepared me for my recovery journey but in hindsight, I think I would have been more equipped for what followed if I had redirected some of my focus during the pregnancy from the labour event to the postpartum period.

So I was discharged from hospital less than 12 hours after having Olive. I thought this was great because I was riding that oxytocin high and felt like I’d won the baby lottery but in retrospect, that was way too early. I’d had an episiotomy with Olive and unfortunately wasn’t told what too expect with that recovery wise. I was vaguely advised by the nurses to continue on regular pain killers and that would be sufficient but I had very severe pain from it in the days that followed. I ended up being taken back to the hospital via ambulance a few days after her birth, after fainting from the pain. An injection of morphine followed and I was sent home a few hours later.

At this stage, I was already feeling extremely overwhelmed. The pain from the episiotomy was really unexpected and I found it difficult to walk. I also couldn’t pick Olive up, so for night feeds I would have to wake Matt up, get him to pass me Olive, feed her and hand her back to him to move again. I remember thinking, ‘What have I done? Did I make the right decision having a baby? This is so much harder than I thought’.

Olive hadn’t been latching very well and my nipples were very sore from breastfeeding, I went to a lovely lactation consultant who took one look at my red chest and said, ‘Do you have mastitis?’. “No, No”, I replied, “she’s just not latching properly and I need some help with it”. She helped me with positioning and told me to go home and keep a close eye on any changes. That afternoon I started to get severe chills, alternating with intense sweating. In my sleep deprived, overwhelmed state, I assumed it was just postpartum sweats (common, as the body adjusts to hormonal changes) but of course, it was classic fever signs. Matt called up the midwife after I started vomiting and she sent us straight to the emergency department.

At the hospital, I was diagnosed with sepsis from mastitis. My inflammatory markers had skyrocketed and my bloods showed dangerously low sodium levels which puts the body at risk of cardiac failure. Sepsis occurs when a bacterial infection enters the blood and if not taken care of very swiftly, is life threatening.

I was so exhausted by then. I just wanted to sleep, desperately desperately to sleep and rest but the best treatment for mastitis is to keep feeding and draining the breasts. I begged the nurses not to feed Olive (and let me express) as my breasts were so sore but again, I wasn’t listened too and she was thrust on all through the night as I alternated between different states of consciousness and moments of sleep.

All up, I remained in hospital for 10 days. I won't go into all the details but I was put on extremely strong IV antibiotics which saved my life. There were some very low moments within that time. I was massively depleted, not only physically but mentally and emotionally. I felt I reached the end of myself. The trauma from the birth, the sepsis and all the other things that naturally come along with a newborn - hello sleep deprivation - created a crash hot recipe for post natal depression. Olive was very affected by all the antibiotics I had been given in hospital and her little digestive system struggled to cope with copious amounts coming through my breast milk. She became very unsettled and would cry for long periods which only added to my feelings of overwhelm.

During the time in hospital, my midwife was really concerned about my mental health and made an application to the maternal mental health department. This referral was denied. She expressed her surprise at this and I remember feeling uneasy that somehow my case didn’t qualify as serious enough for mental health support.

After being discharged, we were offered a heavenly army of support from friends and family - my mum stayed with us, our church was absolutely incredible with meals and my midwife went over and above throughout the recovery period to support us. For a long while, I did my best to seem like I was coping, but internally I was struggling to process the whole experience and felt constantly anxious and lonely. As the days went on, I found it harder and harder to reconcile my idea of what motherhood would look like, with what I had experienced. I had given birth to new life, nearly lost my own life and was trying to pull myself together to care for Olive’s precious new life. But I felt utterly empty with nothing to give her. I also struggled trying to reconcile how unwell I was feeling with my identity as a practitioner. I knew I needed looking after but after being the person who has spent years looking after others health, it was a huge (and humbling) shift to be on the other side.

Once I allowed myself to be completely honest with my husband about how I was feeling, he was able to very firmly advocate for me and get me the help I needed. It was then the gritty process of healing could begin.

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I began to see a therapist through PND Wellington (now Little Shadow) and committed to weekly counselling with her. I was finally able to unpack the birth and the recovery process in a safe, supportive space that validated my experience and how I felt without judgement.. I was very firm with her - I needed help processing everything but without unravelling again. As much as I wanted to crawl up in a ball and run away, the daily realities of motherhood prevent that - Olive required me to show up for her. It was a painful process but with my therapists help, I was able to implement some much needed self care and begin to slowly fill my cup up again. Depletion comes when you are continually giving from a place of lack. Part of my healing was replenishing myself outside of being a mum. As we all know with healing, it’s a journey not a destination. It is one foot in front of the other, one day at a time and gradually you feel stronger and fuller. I also started seeing my own naturopath who was able to oversee my care and support my nervous system and hormones. I know the best healing is always one that encompasses every aspect.

11 months later, I am in a completely different space. Like any mother can attest too - there are still challenges (what is sleep!?), but what once felt like despair has turned to delight. Olive is such a gift. She didn’t have the calmest introduction to earth either yet she is a little ray of sunshine who smiles at anyone and brings so much wonder into our lives.

This whole experience has made me deeply deeply passionate about supporting mums, especially new mums in that vulnerable postpartum stage. Our western culture fails new mums post birth. Many other cultures have postpartum rituals that focus on nourishing and feeding the mother post birth - allowing her to solely focus on bonding with her baby. The length of hospital stay post birth is decreasing rapidly with some woman being discharged mere hours after giving birth with inadequate follow up care or support offered. Everyone wants to hold the baby but mums need holding too. It takes 9 months to grow a child and just as long for a mother to recover and replenish from that event. We need strong, intelligent and empathetic advocates who can champion our needs when we don’t have the energy to do it ourselves.

To every mumma out there who might be feeling tired or sad and finding it hard to show up- I see you. You are not alone. You are an absolute queen and you are doing the most amazing job. Be gentle with yourself. Let progression not perfection be your goal. Don’t hesitate to speak up if you need help because motherhood was never meant to be travelled alone. It is ok to need support and help and guidance regardless of what season of motherhood you find yourself in. If any of this resonates with you, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I don’t want any other mum to feel they are alone in their struggle. Every mum deserves nourishment and support as their body recovers and rebuilds from the birth experience. I would love to support you .

x

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Elle EastwoodComment