Back on the pills..

It's no secret I've been struggling in the last few weeks.  I've written about it a few times.  I had an appointment with the Dr this week, I'd decided it was time for action.

For the last 5 years I've been on and off medication for anxiety and PND.  Every time I come off them I feel somehow this will be the time I'll manage to cope, to not have to go back on them again.  Really, I shouldn't care.  If someone is diabetic, they take the medication they need to be healthy.  It should be the same for people with mental health problems.. and yet somehow, it isn't.  There is still a part of me that feels I "should" be able to cope without medication.  After all, exactly what is it about my life that is so hard?

Enough.

I really need to learn how to relax.  How to accept who I am.  To lean to do nothing.  It's good to want to be motivated, to work hard, but right now I have two young children, one of whom doesn't sleep though the night and sometimes only naps for 20 minutes a day.  I have very little time to myself.  Even blogging is hard to fit in.

Back to my Doctors appointment.  I explained how I've been feeling, but it was a forgone conclusion really, I was going to go back on medication.  I wouldn't have made the appointment if I didn't want to go back on them.  This time I'm trying Setraline.  Previously I've been prescribed Citaolpram and whilst I think it helped me, it never completely rid me of that nervous anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I thought it would be worth seeing if something else would do a better job for me and the doc agreed.

I took my first pill this morning.  I must admit I was a bit scared.  First of all, there's the knowledge that once you start the pills there is a likelihood that you will feel worse for the first 2 weeks.  Beyond that, it can take up to 6 weeks before you feel any better.  Whilst it's good to know that I should start to feel better in the long run, it's scary to know I might well feel worse first.  Then, there's the other side effects that tend to be worse in the first few weeks; nausea, insomnia, dizziness, feeling spaced out.  I've suffered from these before when starting to take citalopram so I know there's a chance this may be the case again.  The thought of having to carry on looking after the boys whilst feeling like this is worrying....

Day one is nearly over.  So far, I've not felt too much in the way of side effects.  I've felt some nausea but it eased when I ate.  I feel tired, but that's not surprising as I'm only managing about 4 hours sleep at night just now anyway...  I feel good that I've taken the first pill.  It's the first step to feeling better again I hope.

Being a stay at home parent is HARD.

I've been a stay at home Mum for over 5 years now and do you know what? It's hard.  Bloody hard.  Being a parent is hard full stop, but there's another element to being a stay at home parent.  Somehow, it's like you loose your identity.  You are Mum (or Dad) and that's about it.  Teachers will refer to you as Mum.  The dentist will refer to you as Mum.  Strangers in the street will refer to you as Mum.  Your own bloody Mum will refer to you as Mum.

Mum.

MUM,


EFFING BLOODY MUM.
Please, don't get me wrong, I love being Mum to my boys (or Mama as they call me).  It truly is the best and most rewarding thing I've ever done.  I don't regret it.  I'm just finding it hard.

I've always found being a Mum hard.  Having PND after having Ethan was the first hurdle.  Beyond that, I've always been an anxious person and so I find the day to day life of looking after first one and now two boys stressful.

Sometimes I think to myself, just what is it exactly that I'm finding stressful?  I don't get paid for what I do, I don't have a boss or have get a report in on time.  But when I evaluate each moment of the day, I find that it is full of stress.  Full of worry.  And I never go home from the job.  I can't even pee in peace.  Weekends, whilst being lovely family time, are no break.  My kids are my colleagues and they are always there.  They even come on bloody holiday with me - the cheek!!

Every day my head is reeling, I'm obsessing over somehow finding the "perfect" way to make my day with the boys somehow run like clockwork.  In my head life is a puzzle and I just need to find the right formula to achieve perfection.  But these are children I'm dealing with, little people.  They aren't going to conform!  It's like every day I get up and set myself up for failure and at the end of the day go to bed with my head held low, shameful after my day of underachievement.

Logically I know that trying to achieve perfection is ridiculous, especially when it comes to looking after children!  My day is boringly predictable yet at the same time impossible to predict.  What time will Felix nap?  Will he eat his food today or chuck it on the floor?  Will Ethan be happy when I pick him up from school?  Will anyone sleep through the night?

It's all so mundane.

That sounds contrite... Again, let me reiterate.  I love my children.  I love being able to bring them up but my God, I truly never realized how hard it was going to be.  I've dedicated my life to them and I still don't feel it's enough.  That I'm enough.

My husband says to me I need to relax more.  Do less.  Even the blog.  I love this blog.  I am amazed that people read and comment.  It's a lifeline for me.. but at times, it's also a bind.  I feel pressure to publish posts, to have something to say.  I know that in order to be able to cope with the days looking after the boys I need to have downtime in the evening where I do nothing much beyond vegging in front of the TV or reading a book.. but the trouble is the voice in my head.

It says:

"If ALL you do is look after kids and watch TV, who are you?  What is your worth?  What defines you?  You really are JUST Mum".

I spend much of my day fantasising about the future.  Or the past.  I sometimes even fantasise about the terrible job I had before I had Ethan.  The mind numbingly boring, tedious and pretty much pointless admin role I held.  God, that job used to drive me to distraction, it was so boring... but oh!  The thought of just being able to complete a task without interruption.  Or complete something full stop.  Or not have to do something at 1am because it was the only quiet time available.

What's the answer?  I don't know.  Maybe I'm not cut out for this stay at home Mum malarky.  But I just don't know what else I'd do!  What job could I get that would fit around school hours and pay enough to cover childcare costs?  Truthfully, I don't so much want to go back to work, I want to enjoy what I'm doing.  I want it to be as fulfilling as we're told it will be.  I'd like to have the time to dedicate to my blog, to see if I could really make it go places.  To make some money out of doing something I love would be amazing!

I know that lack of sleep and anxiety feed off each other and that as my boys aren't the best sleepers, I'm very susceptible to low mood due to sleep deprivation.  I'm going back to the Drs next week.  It might be time to go back on the pills.

That's another thing.  When I admit to myself that I'm not coping, that maybe I need something else to help me through these tough toddler days, my head very helpfully holds a Stones gig in my head, the opening song being Mothers Little Helper:

"Kids are different today", I hear every mother say

Mother needs something today to calm her down

And though she's not really ill, there's a little yellow pill

She goes running for the shelter of a mother's little helper

And it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day"

Helpful, hey?  Honestly, I'm my own worst enemy.

A shout out to my friend - we are ALL in this together!

Last night, as usual, I was tapping away on my laptop at gone midnight, looking at the time, telling myself I must get to bed, when an email pinged into my in box.  It was from Maria of Very Busy Mama fame about the linky #RealMomStyle which she hosts along with a few other style mummy bloggers.  Nothing unusual in that per say, but this week, Maria wanted to let everyone know just what she has been going through lately. Something that really is very real.

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about my experiences of anxiety and depression.  Maria replied to that post and mentioned that she had been experiencing similar.  She was not the only one to get in touch, in fact, friends and other bloggers have been in touch since I wrote it, thanking me for my honesty and sharing their experiences.  We are so not alone in all of this.  Once you start to talk about it honestly, you realize this.

Unfortunately for Maria, it all came to a head when she was alone in San Fran last week.  She ended up having some terrible panic attacks and had to go to hospital, all on her own.  I really feel terrible that she is going through all of this at the moment.  Maria was very brave and posted an extremely honest video of herself talking about what she is going through on her blog and I have to say I found it very hard to watch.  Because I experience anxiety myself, hearing someone else describing what they are going through unfortunately is quite a trigger for me so I do have to be careful.  But the thing is Maria, I couldn't not write some sort of reply to you.  I know we've never met in person and only chatted on Skype once, but I feel we are friends and my heart just goes out to you.  I am so glad that you are seeking help now.

Once again, anyone reading, if you are experiencing anxiety or depression, try if you can to speak up.  We really are all in this together.

Describing Anxiety

Mental health.  Little by little it is becoming more acceptable to talk about it.  Good.  That's what we need.  Most of us go about our day to day life wrapped up in whatever we are dealing with and incorrectly believing that we are the only ones who "can't cope".  It's just not true.  If you are ever actually able to have an honest conversation with friends and neighbours you may well find out that it isn't just you.  You aren't alone.  There are SO MANY of us suffering in silence with various mental health issues and we don't need to.

Talking about it really helps.  Finding someone else who understands is amazing.  Sharing those feelings, even though it may not take them away, helps a little.  I know I always feel boosted by a conversation with someone who understands.

I have always been quite honest on my blog.  That's why it's called Medicated Follower of Fashion.  During my life I have suffered with anxiety, depression and Post Natal Depression after the birth of Ethan.  I write about what I have experienced here in the hope that it might help others, that it might encourage them to talk or seek help.  Since sharing my experiences with friends I have discovered that I am by no means the only one taking medication to help.  AND THERE IS NO SHAME IN THIS.

One of the hardest things to deal with is when people don't understand.  This is something you will unfortunately come across.  Some people are just made differently.  They have never had depressive periods, negative thoughts, compulsions, low self esteem.  They just aren't built that way and just can't comprehend it.  It can be really tough when you try to explain how you feel to these people.  It's especially hard when these are people who are close to you.  I have first hand experience of this and I'm afraid my way of coping with this has been to stop fully expressing myself to these people.  Perhaps it's not the right way to go about it, but to be honest, if I'm going through a low anxious stage, I'm not going to help myself by flogging the dead horse that is trying to get across how I feel to those who can't understand.

I cope by reaching out to those that do.  There are many people out there who are a lifeline to me, both online and in "real life".  To those people, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Anyone reading who is suffering and doesn't have that lifeline, I urge you to try to find someone to speak to. It doesn't have to be a face to face conversation, there are so many support networks online.  Even just commenting here.

Overall, the condition I've suffered the longest with is anxiety.  I've had it to different degrees for as long as I can remember, even as a child.  There are various things that exacerbate it; lack of sleep, PMT, not having enough time to myself..

What does anxiety feel like?  Well, I can only describe how I feel it.  To me, it feels a little like hunger.  That gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Feeling like you've had too much sugar or caffeine.  A clenched jaw.  Despite medication, it's very rare the feeling ever completely leaves me.  I  worry about anything you can think of and get stressed over things causing me to plan things to a ridiculous degree.  To give you an example, shortly after Ethan was born I drove myself into a severe panic because I was worrying how I would ever find the time to make him a packed lunch whilst he started school.  I was obsessively planning in my head how I'd manage it.  He was days old.

How do I cope?  Well, firstly, I take citalopram.  This does level out my feelings.  Not completely.  I always get worse in the days leading up to my period (I feel very unhinged then) and during really stressful times such as when both of the boys are ill and I'm not sleeping.

I have been on a course with others who suffer similar feelings and have become much better at recognising when I am becoming worse.  When I recognise my feelings are "abnormal" it allows me to be a little more objective.  I listen to the feeling and then tell myself that it isn't true.  It doesn't always work but it helps. I can still feel the anxiety but it's unfounded.  It takes a little of the pressure off.

I try to up my sleep and "me time" when I suffer.  Having a break from the boys is essential for my mental health.  It's a constant balancing act though.

Why am I writing this today?  Well, I'm not particularly suffering today, actually, I'm pretty good at present, but I thought it was worth writing down and sharing.  Just in case it helps someone.

Please, if you are reading this and suffering, comment.  It may help.  Know you are NOT alone.

31 weeks - anxious, tense, stressed. Is this normal?

So... 31 weeks.  I suppose you could say I'm on the home run now.. At most it'll be 11 weeks until baby is here.  Could be sooner I suppose!

I want to write a little about how I'm feeling today.  When I first started this blog back in 2009 it was a mishmash of all sorts of things, day to day life, dealing with PND, the struggles and ups and downs of parenthood, fashion and style for Mum's and children.  These days I realise my blog is more focussed on fashion and style, both women's and children's and generally that's just fine, it's good to have a niche.  However, this is my blog and there will be times when actually, I don't want to write about what I'm wearing or what Ethan has been wearing.  Today is one of those days I'm afraid, so please, do bear with me!

There is a reason this blog is called Medicated Follower of Fashion.  If you don't know the history, shortly after Ethan was born I suffered from a great deal of anxiety and depression.  I wasn't coping and was diagnosed with PND.  I took medication for this on and off and only came off my anxiety medication when I became pregnant with baby 2.  So yes, Medicated Follower of Fashion - the medicated comes from anxiety medication and obviously it's a play on Dedicated Follower of Fashion, the song by The Kinks.

I've ummed and ahhhhed about posting this here, but it's the truth, this is how I'm feeling.  Brace yourself, this might be a bit of a brain dump.

I feel I'm struggling quite a bit. I'm getting myself all overwhelmed probably because I'm becoming more introverted. I don't know what to put it down to but in the last week I've felt more and more anxious. Generally, since coming off medication I've felt that I've been coping quite well. Yes, the odd anxious moment but nothing too out of control. Over the last week this has changed. Only two weeks ago I had a consultant appointment at the hospital to see how I was coping anxiety/depression wise and I was genuinely feeling good so that's what I said. I've definitely noticed a change though. I really don't know how to explain it.

It could just be the pregnancy hormones I suppose. I feel tense, irritable, stressed and anxious almost all the time now. The only time it truly abates is when I am entirely on my own doing something pleasant like reading a book. Or maybe if I'm with a group of friends (which isn't that often at the moment). Basically, any time when I feel absolved of responsibility to anyone or anything. As soon as Ethan is with me or Pete comes home from work I feel on edge. I don't want to be touched at all at the moment so when poor Pete comes home from work I feel on edge because I know I'll be touched and I don't want to be. He knows how I don't like being touched at the moment so bless him, he tries not to, but he's a good husband and he just wants to touch my bump, or give me a hug and a kiss. I know I'm pushing him away, and feeling bad about that makes me feel worse again.

As soon as I'm with Ethan I feel stressed and anxious. Everything just gets me all tense, like helping him get dressed, getting him ready for school, walking him to school, feeding him, the constant battles because he won't come when I call him, is really slow going to and from school, the fact he's stopped eating so many things, it all just seems like one battle after another. I know that's all completely normal but I'm finding it hard to cope with.

Then there's the fact that I'm 31+2 now and in only a matter of weeks there will be a newborn with us. I keep telling myself I can cope. It'll be OK. It won't be like last time. But still, just the thought of trying to get Ethan to preschool on time gets me stressed. We barely manage it at the moment!! How the hell am I going to do it with a newborn in tow?

I know my OCD type issues are getting worse. I constantly see things that are "imperfect" with the house, a speck on the floor, a messy sink, a fingerprint on a door handle and these are starting to weigh me down.  Maybe that's nesting in overdrive? I'm not sure!! It's hard not to get over analytical about these things!

I'm really not sure what to do. Is this all just because I'm pregnant? This hasn't been the easiest pregnancy, I've had so many symptoms and I know that physically not feeling my best is having a huge impact on my mood, so that could be a big part of it. I'm not getting much socialisation in these days. I think that's partly pregnancy and partly because Ethan is at preschool now. Last year we went to playgroups and other activities. I used to see my antenatal group friends several times each week, either there or for coffee or meeting up at each others houses and although we always had the children with us, we did get to chat a bit. These days I might see them for a few minutes in passing as we drop the children at preschool. We still meet when we can, mostly still on a Wednesday as before, but we don't have the car on a Wednesday, which used to be fine when I could walk no problem, but now I'm restricted with how much physical activity I can do in a day, so quite often we miss out on the Wednesday gathering. So, at the moment, it's not uncommon for me to go a whole week without really properly seeing anyone or chatting to anyone other than Pete and Ethan. I know that won't be helping things.

By far the most worrying thing, I think, is that people keep asking me if I'm excited now that baby is so close. Honestly? No. I'm fucking scared and worried I've made the worst decision of my life. That about sums up how I feel about his impending birth!  I feel terrible about that.  I know I will love this baby.  I love Ethan with my whole heart, I've never loved anything or anyone as much as I love that little boy and I know despite all my concerns I will love this new baby.  I know what a hard journey that was the first time though. The thought of facing it all again is scaring me.

I wanted to write a positive pregnancy post this week, I want to write about planning my home birth.. but this is how I am feeling at the moment, so I'm afraid this is what I need to write about.

Thanks for bearing with me, readers! x

16 weeks - some disapointment

Today I had my 16 week appointment with the midwives (I'm actually 16+4).  I was quite excited.  Well, there aren't many appointments with your second, so any appointment is a source of excitement   It also forces me to focus on what we're actually doing because most of the time I'm too busy with Ethan, going to and from pre-school, doing housework, food shopping, blogging, stella & dot work, organising stuff for Christmas.. the usual, most of the time I forget to actually "connect" with this growing bump.  I don't quite forget I'm pregnant due to the fact that the nausea hasn't completely left, my boobs are still growing (by the second it feels) and are terribly itchy, I still get odd cravings and feel hungry all the time, I'm always exhausted and my bump is growing.  But it's almost like it's not connected to the growth of a new human.  Just a load of stuff that's happening to me on top of every day life.

So... yes, it's nice to have an appointment.  To stop and take stock.  To think about the fact that 5 and a bit months from now (maybe 6) we will have another child.

Unfortunately, my good mood was soon destroyed during my appointment today.  When I went in for my booking in appointment I told my midwife I would like a home birth   She was happy with that as my choice, didn't mention any issues, wrote it down in my book and that was that.  Since then I've been happily planning the birth I want in my head.  What music I'd have, how to hire a birthing pool, where to put it in the house and all the other bits (ironically as I write this an advert for Call The Midwife is playing).  I've been getting really excited about it.  I don't want to go to hospital if I can avoid it.  I don't want to have to go on a ward again.  I hated it.  I know no one really likes it, but I think my PND was compounded by the night we spent on the ward.  I felt so scared, so alone.  There was so much noise, I didn't sleep a wink.  That lack of sleep (after the 30+ hour labour) compounded my tiredness and it all spiralled down from there.  I know there isn't always very much control in birth and labour, but whatever control I can have, I want to have.

I digress... Today I saw a different midwife (as often you do) and I mentioned the home birth to her.  Her face dropped straight away and she proceeded to tell me that despite her and her colleagues being huge advocates of home birth, it's not something they recommend.  She told me "It's an option, but I have to tell you that most ladies who opt for a home birth in our area end up giving birth on their own because no one can  get to them on time".  She even told me if I were to call an ambulance it might take up to 40 minutes to get to me.  She went on to explain how it works on an "on call" basis, which is fine, but the area they cover is HUGE.  Far too large for the number on midwives who are on call at any one time.

I feel my dreams have been shattered.  I appreciate this is the reality of the situation   I don't know where to go from here.  The midwife told me I can still have home birth as an option, but is it really a valid option?  It doesn't feel like it when someone tells you that in the same breath as telling you that safety of the baby is the most important thing and that you may be left to give birth on your own.

I honestly can't express how disappointed I am about this.  I know this isn't a countrywide issue.  My friend who lives in London is having a home birth with her baby (due in January) and from the get go she has received nothing but support and confirmation that unless complications arise  her baby will be born at home, as she wants.  I feel jealous of that.  Terrible useless emotion, I know..  I also know that 5 years down the line, most likely all this won't really matter as long as I have a healthy child at the end of it.  It's just so bitterly frustration to have choices removed from you.  I feel like the carpet has been pulled from beneath my feet.

I'll get over it.  I have to.  This is the reality of the situation.  But today, I feel low :(

I'm scared..

I'm scared and I need to talk about it... I know some of you probably don't know how to take my blog so I apologise for that.  I'm sure some of you come along for toddler and mummy fashion inspiration and find that you're wading through a few posts about my anxiety and depression.  The thing is, this is me.  This blog is a representation of me.  I'm honest here.  I don't exaggerate and I don't hide anything.  I love fashion and clothes and dressing Ethan is one of my biggest pleasures in life... But the other overwhelmingly large part if me is anxiety, depression and fear.  I think that's why the title of my blog is so appropriate.
Anyway.. I'm not scared about all that, just sorry if sometimes my blog is a confusing one...

I'm scared to have another baby.  It petrifies me.  I'm waiting for my period at the moment and whilst I'm sure I'm not pregnant it makes me think about the possibility.  And let me tell you.  If I found out I were pregnant today I would not cry tears of happiness.. but I would cry.

I know many people who have and are having a hard time getting pregnant, both in real life and online and I know how hard it is for them to hear me harping on about how I feel about it. So I try to monitor what I say. The thing is whilst I sympathise massively what they go through (and I really do.  I hate to see people going through that and it does give me perspective) it doesn't mean my thoughts and feelings aren't valid.
I can't help it.  Sometimes I think if it were just up to me, I'd stick at one.  My little man.  I adore him.  But I find it all very hard work. 

It's not just me though.  Hubby wants another.  I think Ethan would benefit from a sibling.  And what if we stuck at one and I reverted it when it was too late?  I don't want a 15 year age gap or something like that either.

Ethan will be 3 in July.  At first we were thinking we'd try for another this Sept. but I've already postponed that until next Jan.  I want him in school full time at least until I have another.  Even that scares me though.  In some ways it'd be nice to say ok! Just the one child for us! Now he's in school I can go and get a job and carve out q bit more time for me again.. but no.  It'll be all sleepless nights, constant feeding and bleeding nipples all over again.

I'm so scared it'll be the same or worse.  The PND.  The sleep deprivation.  The anxiety.  Am I strong enough to do that again?  No matter how many times I get told it won't be the same, a little voice tells me it will be.  Or worse.

Seconds after birth... you can see the fear in my eyes....that is not a happy Mama!

Have you ever seen a photo showing love and happiness in the eyes as clearly as this? My Dad with Ethan.

Again, pure love and joy in the eyes.  Mother in law with Ethan.

I know so few people who feel this way.  I can think of two maybe, and they are both online friends.  Apart from my mum and sometimes Hubby I can't really talk to anyone about this.
I'd love to know if I'm not the only one.

My journey down the rabbit hole..

Snoo & Me has talked a lot recently about her struggles with depression, and it's made me think that I've never really given enough blog space to my own struggle.

I suppose these days I can consider myself out of the worst of it.  Of course, I never know when the black dog may be back again, scratching at the door in my mind...

PND was not my first brush with depression.  I personally believe I've suffered with it throughout my life.  I was diagnosed with depression before, sometime in 2005 I think.  It's hard to remember now.  I took time off work and had counselling but didn't take medication.  I was too scared to try it.  The counselling helped.  I changed what was wrong in my life.  Things improved.

Having a history of depression does seemed to be linked to the likelihood of being diagnosed with PND.  On top of depression, I am a naturally anxious person with very strong OCD tenancies when under pressure and stress.  I don't use the term OCD lightly.  When times are bad I have been known to keep a record book with the measurements between things in rooms to make sure they are in their "correct" position and haven't been moved.  At best, I like things tidy and in their place.  At worst, I won't be able to sit and relax for moving things around and making sure they "look right".

I remember being anxious as a child.  I worried.  I remember not being able to sleep for worrying.  I worried about homework.  It didn't help that at the age of 6 I was bullied by a teacher who stood be up in front of my class and stated that "you are too stupid to teach and I refuse to help you".  I was mortified.  I'm sure even now, when I'm low, I hear her voice at the back of my mind.  I also worried about the safety of my family and I.  I kept a suitcase packed under my bed every night which included a change of clothes, some food, soap, a book and whatever was most precious to me at that time (bless!).  This bag was to be grabbed in case of fire.  I had also decided that the safest escape route from our house if there was a fire was through my bedroom, out onto the roof and then a small jump to the ground.  I figured it was my responsibility to save my family as well.  I think I really was a very worried 6 year old!

I'm giving you the background history here... I think it might help to explain how I behaved after I had Ethan..

I was ecstatic to be having a child.  It was what I'd always wanted.  Pete and I had got married and decided to try for a baby as soon as we were back from our honeymoon.  We were pregnant within 2 weeks of trying.  I think I thought it would take us 6 months to a year.  I think the shock of getting pregnant so quickly was the start of it!  There was hardly time to breath.. We were booking in with the midwife only 5 weeks after getting married.  It was a roller-coaster.

I really wanted a water birth.  I went overdue by 13 days.  There were no birthing pools available in the hospital.  Not the greatest start.  I didn't dilate.  Not unusual.  20 hours of labour and I was only 1cm.  Because I was so overdue, I felt I had no choice but to accept the drugs to kick start dilation.  I went from 2cm-10cm in half an hour.  I'd been given pethidine under the assumption that baby's delivery was 4 or more hours away.  Ethan was born dopey with drugs.  I was out of it.  He couldn't latch.  He was a boy.  I was convinced I was having a girl.. These were all contributing factors I'm sure.

Staying overnight in the hospital was like some form of purgatory.  All night long buzzers going off.  People shouting and chatting.  Surrounded by bewildered new Mums.  Stifled crying,  mostly mine.  Ethan lay there in his cot, still in a drugged sleep.  He hadn't fed properly.  I lay there watching the hour and minute hand on the clock.  Could not sleep.  Tears ran down my face.  I was soaked in tears, the pillow beneath my head drenched.  Whenever he woke, he cried.  I didn't know what to do with him.  How to hold him.  How to feed him.  I was so, so scared.  I felt at that moment my life was over.  I sat in that hospital bed ignoring the crying baby, rocking forwards and backwards chanting "what have I done, what have I done".

I remember Pete coming to pick us up the day after Ethan was born.  He was so happy to be a Dad.  I felt I had to keep plastering this fake smile on my face.  I wanted to go home but at the same time, I didn't.  It rained all the way home.  That seemed appropriate.  When we reached home, there were bunches of flowers, balloons, cards and gifts.  I didn't want to look at them.  Didn't want to acknowledge what was happening.

I walked in the front door, dumped Ethan in his car seat in the living room (he was sleeping- the last sleep he'd have for a long while) and got down on my hands and knees.  I swept the floors with a dustpan and brush.  Control.  I needed control.  Something I knew how to handle.

That first night at home was terrifying.  Ethan woke that afternoon and did not sleep again until 6am.  This was a pattern set to continue for a good while.  I breast fed him constantly and yet he lost weight.  He lost more than 10% of his birth weight yet the midwife decided not to re-admit us to hospital.  She felt his latch was OK.  My milk never came in.  I spent a 46 hour stint of breast feeding where I only had one 2 hour break for sleep and a bath.  Ethan only ever slept at the breast, but I couldn't sleep at all.  I couldn't eat.  There was a permanent lump in my throat and anxious knots in my stomach.  It would take me 10 minutes to chew and swallow a mouthful of food.  I lost all the baby weight in 4 days.  That was nearly 2 stone.  Anyone will tell you that's not normal and not healthy.  Within a week and half of giving birth I weighed less than I did before getting pregnant.

We ended up moving in with my parents to help me cope.  My nipples were in such a terrible state from feeding that a health visitor who had been working for 25 years stated they were the worst she'd ever seen.  No one could get Ethan to sleep.

Finally we gave up the breast feeding.  One day on formula, Ethan slept and smiled.  It was amazing.  He changed, but the damage had been done to me.  In some ways, this stage was even harder.  Ethan had become a much more "normal" baby (although he still only slept for short periods, had colic and reflux) but I still felt I couldn't cope.  I managed to struggle on until Ethan was about 2 months old.  I broke down.  I'd just come down with mastitis for the 2nd time, despite having given up breast feeding a while back and was feeling terribly ill.  I started having a panic attack and ended up at the Drs being diagnosed with PND.  It was like a crushing weight dropping on me at the same time as another one being lifted.  On the one hand, hurray, support and an answer.. but on the other hand.  Depression. Medication.  One of the worst things about being diagnosed and given medication is when they tell you it will take 6 weeks to work.  At that point, you feel you can hardly get through one more minute, let alone 6 weeks.

I don't know how I got through really.  Pete was always fantastic, taking time off work to help when he could.  My parents were rocks.  Even though I don't think they truly understood and didn't really like me being medicated, they were supportive.  Though Mum would often comment negatively if I talked about being happy to be on my drugs for a while, or if my dose was upped.  I know she was happy when I came off them..

Coming off AntiD's is another thing.. the first time I came off, it wasn't managed well by my Dr.  I ended up somehow being advised to go cold turkey.  Coming off them cold turkey is like coming class A drugs cold turkey.  Sweats.  Panic attacks.  Paranoia.  Heart palpitations.  Anxiety.  Stress.  For me, the first time, it wasn't the right time.  I ended up back on a higher dose after 2 weeks off them.  Of course it takes weeks for them to kick back in again.  That was another dark time when Pete needed to stay off work.  I had no interest in anything.  All I could do was walk around crying.

The biggest turning point for me was when Ethan hit his first birthday.  For the first time I couldn't look back and think "this time last year, I was free, Ethan wasn't born".  It was a turn in the road.  An acceptance.

I finally made it off the drugs last summer.  It was very hard at first.  It takes a while to get back to knowing what normal ebbs and flows in emotions are.  And getting PMT as well - I found my drugs levelled that out for me!  The drugs keep you quite mellowed out. Not completely, but you don't quite experience the full range of emotions.  Things aren't so raw.  Which is what you want.  It's what you need so you can heal.  It's quite hard adjusting back to controlling and understanding your moods and emotions yourself.

Now.. I feel better.  I still have anxiety.  I always did and I probably always will.  It's not as bad as it was.  Usually it's worse if I have a busy day ahead.  I can cope though.  I feel like things are slipping out of my control at times, of course I do, but I can recognise the signs now and usually step back in time and calm my day down.  Take out the things we don't "have" to fit in.

Am I scared about getting PND again if I have another child.  Yes.  Very much so.  But I made it through once.. I can do it again.

I have to.