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I booked myself and my baby into a facility and now, I'm a new person.
But let's rewind a few weeks.
My mental health after having our baby girl, Ruby, had been reasonably stable and motherhood was feeling beyond fulfilling. However, I started to notice that the bad days were creeping up on me. After six months of broken sleep and breastfeeding around the clock, it all started to feel overwhelming.
The bad days were really bad. All I wanted to do was tap out. I couldn't stop crying, I would get angry and catastrophise everything. I looked at my body and wished I had the time and energy to look after it. I hated the changes so much that I sent enquiries to plastic surgeons. I had no sex drive, which is unheard of for me. My memory was terrible, my back was killing me, I felt like I was letting everyone down, and then I would tell myself to shut up and be grateful.
That then caused a feeling of guilt, leading to self-hatred, and over-analysing all the problems in my marriage. My mind did not stop — I would lock myself in a dark room and go to sleep.
Thankfully my husband, my mother-in-law and mum totally got it and helped carry the load when I was clearly unable to.
One day, though, while Mum was folding the washing in our lounge room, she told me about a new postpartum care place she's heard about called Homb.
"I'm not acutely unwell, Mum, just having a bad patch," I told her.
It sounds defensive, but I didn't feel like I needed to be shipped off to some facility for mothers who aren't coping.
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