by EMMA HEALEY
I recently celebrated my daughter’s third birthday, with a back yard birthday party, cake, balloons and an old fashioned pass the parcel.
I spent the day in awe of just how amazing she really is, what a great little person she was growing into.
I spent the evening crying, that this was in spite of me.
My daughter’s birthday also marked the anniversary of my battle with PND. A condition affecting as many as 1 in 6 Australian mothers. That is a lot of us.
My battle with PND is hard to recall, and harder to articulate.
If I had to try, I would say that I spent the best part of two years with my head in my hands. If I try to picture myself at the time, I can see myself with my head in my hands.
Have you ever seen a program or heard a story of a woman whom up and left her children, and perhaps shaken your head in disbelief at just how someone could do that?
I know exactly what it is like to want be that woman that left, and I would have given almost anything to be the person that would tut tut in disbelief again.
My time spent with my head in my hands is over, with support and medical treatment, PND is a battle I am very fortunate to say that I have won, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t occasionally stop and think of that battle, and weep at the fight, the destruction and the loss.
Sometimes it can swallow me whole.
Moments like my daughter’s birthday.
The third birthday meant the arrival of many “babies” (read: dolls) to our house – her favorite toy. My daughter mothers them so well, changing nappies, gently cooing and rocking, clumsily shoving dummies into small plastic mouths.
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I missed roughly the first 6 months of my daughters life. I remember my mother missing around a year of my life when I was 8ish. She suffered depression or some other mental illness and needed hospitalization. I know she hates that she struggled with staying overnight at the hospital with me when I was 10 because she needed to be home. I have never and would never hold her illness against her. But now I thank heavens for it. When I couldn't understand what was going on with me, or how to stop crying she was the one that got me through, sat in A and E with me when I had a tension headache no amount of panadol could rid, helped me come to terms with going on anti anxiety tablets and always checks in with how things are going. Try and remember that what you lost at the beginning of your relationship may be the reason you are and become more so an amazing mother.
Wow, how your story resonates with me. A third unexpected child combined with new job, new state and my dad dying... A career spent in mental health didn't help me... 17 months of trudging... Getting through the day... 11 months of broken sleep, a tricky unhappy baby...realizing that when I was saying that I was tired what I meant was I am depressed. Walking into my doctor and asking for help, terrified that I was going to act on my thoughts of driving into a tree... The stiff feeling in my face when my medication started working and I started smiling again... The overwhelming love and guilt I feel looking at my son now, knowing he had a completely different mother to his older sisters ... I feel very lucky to have come out the other side.