What they don't tell you

I was a young mother, eighteen when I fell pregnant with my first child.
I was nineteen when I gave birth to my son.
My son was only a few minutes old when looked at him in my arms, and realised I felt nothing for him.

Many people may be horrified by that fact, others may understand, the fact is I didn't understand, it wasn't supposed to be that way, and I was never told it may happen.

I took my son home a week later, to my mothers house, where the father and i were living.

Day times were lonely, everyone was out at work, I was home with a child I didn't feel like I could bond with, or want to touch.
Night times were worse, my son couldn't keep his milk down, whilst i was bottle feeding father was a sleep. i would go into the bathroom feeling as though I wasn't able to breath, thinking I was having an asthma attack, sobbing with fear. Fear of what, at that point I couldn't say.

The three of us finally got our own place, a little two bed house with a small garden, perfect for a small family, but in my head I was screaming to be set free.

At night the nightmare came the same one every night for a week, a dark shadow dressed in black slowly coming up the stairs towards me, every night the shadow was several steps closer to me, finally, the last dream I had, I was in the bathroom, I knew the shadow was out there, I opened the door and there it stood, smothering me with its darkness, I woke up the next morning and my world shatter, voices came, telling to do the most unforgivable things.
The voices in my head started telling me to hurt my son, even whilst he was peacefully sleeping in his cot. I won't go into detail, but my thoughts were horrifying.

I was tired all the time, but couldn't sleep, the health visited told me this was normal, the tiredness, as the baby slept more I would have more energy, but it didn't happen.

The voices continued, telling I was worthless, useless, the child would be better off without me.

After several months I finally broke down on the health visiter telling her I didn't want my son anymore. The father an I argued 'why can't you be normal? Wy can't you be like other mothers?' He screamed. My answer was simple 'I don't know why'.

After nine months of being told, how to feed, change, bathe, care for, dress a baby, what they didn't tell me was I may not bond with my baby. What no one ever tells you is, it may not come naturally.

I was diagnosed with postnatal depression at first, anti-depressants were prescribed, I kept quite about the voices.
The father worked long hours, a very hard worker, but could not understand what I was going through, I didn't understand it either.
For oaths I kept the voices to myself, telling no one, ashamed of the things I felt.
I finally told the psychiatric nurse about the voices, about how I planned to leave in the night making sure baby had enough milk and water in his cot, to last until father returned home.

Postnatal psychosis, they said, much more serious, anti psychotics were prescribed, even if I could look after baby, I was so highly medicated I couldn't. Father refused to take time off work, even though it was crucial for myself and baby, family stepped in, looked after my child until I could.

I got up one morning and held my son, by this time he was walking, I had missed so much, he smiled at me, I saw only love in his eyes, it felt like my heart had started to beat for the first time.

Twelve years later, married with three children, I realise, what a horrendous time I went through, how I nearly lost my son and myself.

I believe had I been informed of postnatal depression, I would have coped better, it does not matter what age you are, it doesn't matter what race or culture you come from postnatal depression can happen to anyone.

What they don't tell you is that you can survive, you can go through hell and come out the other side, stronger and braver than you ever were before.



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