By BENISON O’REILLY
Last Thursday night I sat at my computer in a grumpy mood, feeling overworked and underpaid. Into my Inbox pinged an email which literally took my breath away. At once my petty problems took on the perspective they deserved.
The email, part of which is reprinted here, is from a man we’ll call John. All names have been changed.
In February this year my only daughter Sarah died from SIDS at 4.5 weeks of age, and 22 days later my wife Cathy left in the middle the night and took her own life. Cathy had not coped well with Sarah’s death; however we were receiving counselling from SIDS and Kids and Cathy had also been seeing her GP weekly, our obstetrician, and she was also seeing a hypnotherapist to help her cope with the feelings of guilt that she was having. Cathy had put Sarah down to sleep when she died and had tried to revive her before the ambulance arrived and blamed herself for Sarah’s death.
At her most recent GP visit, Cathy had been prescribed a mild antidepressant and had been taking sleeping tablets (with limited success) immediately after Sarah’s death. The day before her death, Cathy saw the hypnotherapist and that evening just wanted to be cuddled while lying on the lounge. She told me how much she loved me a couple of times but I didn’t think it was anything unusual because we always told each other how much we loved the other. We both went to bed, but when I woke in the morning she had gone and left a series of letters behind. I immediately called the police; however, she had already suicided before I had woken up. Before she died she had sent me a text message saying how much she loved me, but I didn’t wake up.
Postnatal depression (PND) was not part of my world until I was asked to co-write a book, Beyond the Baby Blues, about it a couple of years ago. It wasn’t part of my GP husband’s world either, until a young mother who attended his medical practice took her own life one day. Now the practice screens every new and expectant mother (depression can occur during pregnancy as well) who crosses its threshold.
John was seeking answers from me, but the help I could offer seemed woefully inadequate. I have referred him to my friends at The Gidget Foundation; an organisation named in honour of another young mother who one day found it all too hard.
Tragically, suicide is now one of the leading causes of postnatal maternal death in the developed world.
To tease out what causes PND — and anxiety, because the two frequently go hand in hand — is difficult and varies from individual to individual.
Top Comments
There is a second step to recognising that one has a problem. Getting the right help. For me and many others that means getting a level of private health insurance that will cover hospitalisation. Unfortunately the public system is at breaking point and the best care takes money. Basic hospital cover doesn't include mental health but you can be covered after a couple of months. It's well worth it and it is probably the reason I am alive today.
What timing.
My baby is 15 months old and this morning I sat down with my husband and wept and said to him 'I am struggling'. I told him about my inability to get through the haze of having a baby, the fact that I feel like I am not doing particularly well in any of the roles i have in life (employee/partner/mother/friend), how I struggle through social events and feel crippled with anxiety when I receive the most basic of emails from my very lovely boss.
I told him about the intense and completely irrational feelings of rage I sometimes have towards anyone who I perceive to be 'interfering' with my capacity to be the best mother i can be for my baby. I told him about how before having a baby I never knew that feeling in control was so very important to me. I told him how I felt out of control and like I desperately wanted to press life's 'pause' button so I could catch my breath.
I told him about the feelings I had been having lately where I felt like I could sympathise with those who simply run away - those who leave 'without a trace' so to speak. I told him how on good days I felt like the most normal, lucky person in the world, and how on bad days I felt suffocated by my own thoughts. I told him how I always thought that someone 'suicidal' would be in a constantly bad place - obviously down and depressed and sad. I told him how I had been having really weird thoughts lately. Thoughts in shopping centres about how easy it would be for someone to just 'snap' and jump over the railing. Thoughts about how you could be running over a bridge one second, and the next, be falling, falling, falling... I told him how I never really thought that that person who jumped could be me - but how I couldn't stop thinking about these things on bad days and how on those days I somehow became less sure of the 'security' of my surroundings... anyone could jump, couldn't they? I told him how I would then have a good day and think the thoughts from the previous day were just 'crazy.'
I told him I needed his help.
He listened, he will help me. But he had no idea.
None of my friends would have any idea either. I have become expert at hiding this. Some people who will read this article will be some of my friends because I know they look at this site.
Ask your friends if they are OK. Please.
And if you are the one struggling, call a friend and say those three words - 'I am struggling.'
Thank you, John* - your email published in this story has made me determined to keep talking to my husband about this and to keep saying 'I am struggling' until the day that I am not.
5 years ago I was where you are now. Hold tight. Breathe deep. Go easy on yourself & don't stop looking for help until you get what you need. For me I needed Vitamin D, iron, PND support group (offered via maternal health nurse), naturopath.... Great tip I received from a GP I found via PANDA was to score everyday out of 10 (on calender/diary) then you can easily look back and see what made your good days good so you can implement/plan those days again. Also in advance plan to leave the house EVERYDAY, cancel if you need to on the day but waiting until the day to plan activities means you'll never leave the house & isolation will grow. I also got great comfort from reading Brooke Shields book "Down Came the Rain: My Journey Through Postpartum Depression" (got it at local library as hard to find instore) & once on way to recovery "you sexy mother" Jodie Hedley-Ward, about putting yourself back into your life. Sending you love and the best wishes & greatest strength from the other side of the fog... You'll get there too.
I really appreciate this