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| Week 7 at Coombe Wood 'Self Portrait' |
A Call for Help (PLEASE SIGN THE PETITION BELOW)
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| Week 4 at Coombe Wood 'Children' |
On 1st April
2016, at 11.05am, I gave birth to a wonderful baby boy. When the midwife placed
my baby onto my chest it was the most euphoric experience. I felt complete. I felt so much love for this little person. Being
pregnant couldn’t have come at a better time. I was excited and ready to be a
loving mother. I love children, their wisdom, their creativity, their
energy. As a profession, I work with
children who experience domestic violence; my partner is a youth worker. I’d
read everything you can read about childbirth. What I was less aware of was
what could happen following birth, how common it was for a mother to suffer
mentally. My mental health began to deteriorate rapidly after my son was
born. Luckily, I was quickly diagnosed
with the rare and severe mental illness Postpartum Psychosis and Postnatal
Depression.
1 in 1000 mothers suffers
with Postpartum Psychosis and Depression in the UK. It is statistically the
biggest killer in women following the birth of their child. The best way of treating this illness is to
receive psychotherapy and medication but most importantly to be with baby to
establish a loving bond. Mother and Baby
Mental Health Units enable mums to recover by allowing the baby to be with mum in hospital whilst she gets better. Mother and Baby units specialize in perinatal care. I do not exaggerate this when I say that the
Mental Health Mother and Baby Unit I was admitted to saved my life.
Sadly, the unit was located in London, approx 200
miles away from my home in South Wales.
There are no Mother and Baby unit's in Wales. I believe this is a tragedy.
My partner had to travel from Wales to London every weekend. Financially, we were unprepared for the costs
of travel, especially as my Partner was made redundant the day the baby was
born. I felt very far away from home and my family. There is only a handful of
mother and baby units in the UK, so it is a postcode lottery that determines whether a woman receives the specialist care she needs.
I’d suffered with circumstantial depression twice in my life but had never been as ill as I was following child birth. This illness isn’t an easy one for people to hear, it is dark and dangerous and my opinion is that it is often swept under the carpet in society. Only a small amount of people are aware of Postpartum Psychosis. I know that I am one of the lucky ones as I was listened to and was able to receive the specialist care I needed. So many women do not have access to this support and never get heard.
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| Week 1 at Coombe Wood |
For women without
access to a mother and baby unit, the only alternative is for her to be admitted
to a psychiatric ward away from her baby. I spent 4 days in a psychiatric ward
in Wales before being transferred to London.
There is a lot of evidence that shows that separating a mother from her baby can worsen the delusions and psychosis. I hope my story provides insight into how
devastating this illness is. I hope and
pray that The Welsh Government listens to the voices of desperate, ordinary
women who need specialist support. I will try my best to advocate for there to
be a mother and baby unit in wales. This
illness is indiscriminate; it could happen to any woman expecting a child. I was an ordinary person, who drew a short
straw.
My Story
At two days old, my son
and I were discharged from the maternity ward in the Royal Gwent Hospital. The
night we brought our baby home, I noticed a rash
on his back. I became manically frantic
and upset. I called 999. I believed the baby had meningitis. I was wailing, ‘MY BABY, MY BABY!’ In my head,
he was not responsive. When the
paramedic came, she reassured me that it was just a heat rash. That night, the
hallucinations began.
I decided to block them
out, I thought they came about because of how utterly exhausted I was. I had
not slept since the night before giving birth.
The visions didn’t last long. They came in little flashes out of the
corner of my eye, through the bars of my sleeping child’s crib. I saw images of him distorted, beaten up and
dead. I didn’t tell anyone about them at
first, I just thought it was my exhausted head playing tricks on me.
The next day we had our
families arrive to see the baby. They say now that during the day I was
speaking 100 miles per hour and I wanted to throw a party. I was laughing
hysterically one minute and then crying hysterically the next. It is only now
that I realise I was having a manic episode.
I barely spent time with the baby.
I didn’t eat or drink and had forgotten how to take care of myself. I hadn’t an idea of how to breastfeed and was
struggling. My breasts started to become sore and engorged. My baby wasn’t
feeding and was hungry.
My midwife Suzanne came
to see me in my home and noticed that I was in need of help. She arranged for us to stay in the local
birthing centre for a night or two in order for the midwives to help me
breastfeed.
It was in the birthing
centre that the psychosis became worse.
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| Week 6 at Coombe Wood 'What I Saw' |
The
visions were becoming more frequent. I
would look at my baby in the clear plastic hospital cot and see his face
appearing angry, beaten up and dead. There
were posters of babies on the wall in the room. Their faces appeared angry, and
their eyes blackened. I was crying and
laughing and talking so fast, I had no control over what I was saying. I couldn’t dress myself or look at
myself. I felt like a failure because my
breasts were in such poor condition. At
one point, my partner had to cradle me to sleep as I frantically believed that if I
went to sleep I would die. I was
terrified, shaking, and crying. I
started having thoughts that my partner and the baby would be better without me and
that I couldn’t take care of him. I
didn’t eat. I hadn’t ate more that few mouthfuls since the baby was born, this
would go on for a further 2 weeks. I couldn’t sleep. I thought I would never
sleep again.
‘This room looks like a
pigsty!’ the nurse said. I started making sure all the cups on the tea tray
were aligned, that all the towels were perfectly folded. I would fold and refold until they were
right. It is only now that I realise
that the nurse said no such thing.
I started to feel
terrified. At one point I got dressed, put a full face of makeup on and I left a
note to the midwives saying that I had given up. I went from being on cloud
nine expecting the arrival of my first child, to writing a suicide letter a few
days later. I truly believed that if the
midwives let me leave that day, I wouldn’t be here.
My relationship with my
newborn had started to change. I believed that the baby was talking to me
though his eyes, telling me that he hated me. I felt completely disconnected
from him. I would forget I even had a baby. I started to believe that he was a
different baby from the one I gave birth to.
My visions were worsening. I
couldn’t retain information. I had forgotten how to write my name. It was so hard to concentrate on what people
were saying. I asked for no visitors as I didn’t trust anyone.
Steve had noticed I
wasn’t myself and had told the midwives. A woman came through the door of my
room. She stated she was the mental health specialist midwife. I screamed and
ran into the corner of the room and wet myself out of fear. I believed she was
going to take my baby away from me. I
could see the worry in my partners’ eyes and it broke my heart.
The midwives arranged
for me to have an official mental health assessment with a psychiatrist. During
the assessment, I was clinging on to a midwife’s hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ I
would cry, as I admitted my feelings about the baby. The midwife was trying to
ease me, but I had a vision of everything in the background behind her face
going dark and I became very afraid. I
was utterly terrified by what I was seeing and saying. I felt like 500 different people. My mind was
racing. I believed I was dying.
I couldn’t stay in the
birthing centre for legal reasons.
Leaving the safety of the midwives there was hard. They had been so kind and nurturing with
me. I was expressing milk for the baby
at this point in order to allow for my breasts to heal. I had to go to a maternity ward at the Royal
Gwent Hospital which is a half hour drive away from the birthing centre. For safety reasons, I had to go in an
ambulance. The ride
was scary. The staff were talking and I
couldn’t understand them, it was like they were talking in gibberish.
During my time at this
hospital, I had to be observed for 24 hours by a mental health nurse. I went to the window of my room that looked out onto the city landscape. I pushed the window open and noticed that it
opened widely. That was when I had the
horrendous thought of throwing the baby out of the window. I feel so sad and guilty writing that
sentence. I am a peaceful, non violent
person. I would never hurt anyone.
I became frantic. ‘I need to switch rooms!’ ‘I need to switch rooms!’
‘Look at the window! Anything could happen!’ ‘You need to get that baby away
from me!’ I knew my mind wasn’t my own and I didn’t trust myself around the
baby. I believed everyone was watching
me and that there were cameras. I
believed I was being tested for something.
I asked for a pen and
paper. Initially I was trying to jot
down the times I needed to express my milk for the baby but it turned into a
way of processing what was happening in my mind. I frantically wrote down what thought’s I was
having. I was terrified of how impulsive
I was getting that I believed I was dangerous.
I believed that there was potential to harm myself or possibly my
child. I asked the baby to be taken away
to another room as I didn’t trust myself.
Deep down there was a part of me screaming to come out, the old me. I had thoughts of jumping off the transporter
bridge I could see from the window. I
felt utterly trapped in my mind. I felt
as if my mind had been invaded by a foul dark creature. I saw a shadow moving under my bed. My partner
kindly looked underneath the bed for me and reassured me. He was so supportive during this time. He knew I was ill and was simply there for
me. I will never forget how loving he
was.
I still couldn’t sleep.
My partner has told me recently that during this time I hadn’t slept for 5 days,
with only 10 minutes of light sleeping here and there. I would look in the mirror and not recognise
myself. I loathed myself. I didn’t deserve sleep. I didn’t deserve food. I was an awful person for wishing harm on the
baby. I had no idea who I was, or what I
had become. I wrote down confusing
thoughts. I even wrote a bit of mad poetry. I think I was searching for my baby through
words. I was searching for myself
through words.
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| Week 8 at Coombe Wood 'Time' |
I spent two nights in the
maternity ward at The Royal Gwent. I was on
constant observation as my actions were so impulsive. I had to talk and talk and talk to different
faces to try and explain what I was seeing.
It felt so loud in the room. All
I could hear were voices and hospital trolleys.
My mind was constantly racing. I
had no concept of time. I would look at
the clock and 5 hours would have passed and it would feel like 5 minutes. I believed I was allowing my baby to starve
so I deserved to feel pain. I started refusing to take pain relief for a third
degree tear I developed during child birth.
I needed to feel something real.
I was harming myself by starving myself and refusing relieving
medication.
I was still having visions. I saw lots of shadows
around people’s faces. I was still seeing images of dead babies on
posters. I thought the child I had in
front of me hated me. I was starting to
really believe he wasn’t mine. I felt
nothing for him. This makes me feel sad writing this because now that I am
recovering I love that little boy more than anything in the world. I would go through it again, a thousand times
over if it meant I could keep him forever.
However, at this point all I was feeling was pure fear. I pleaded for people to help me get better.
More sad news came about, the baby needed to be admitted to
hospital. He had developed an infection
in his belly button. My partner told me
this and I didn’t even react. I believed
at this point that he wasn’t mine. I
started to believe the baby in front of me was someone elses and that mine had
died. Eventually, I was transferred next to a mixed-sex psychiatric ward, while
professionals waited for funding to come through from the Welsh Government for
me to be transferred to a mother and baby unit in London. I stayed in the
psychiatric ward for 4 days, away from my partner and my baby.
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| Week 5 at Coombe Wood 'Lonely Boat' |
My condition worsened whilst on the ward. The ward felt like a grey prison. The walls were grey and my room was very
similar to that of a prison cell. The
delusion that my baby had died and that I was put in jail because I didn’t look
after him properly became so real I would wail and wail in the night. I would cry ‘He’s gone,’ ‘I’ve killed him,’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Mental
health staff held my hand to go to sleep.
I had to take medication during my episodes to help me calm down. I spent the days in my room. Packing and repacking my bag for London. I was still on constant observation, the door of the room remained open through my time there and someone would sit and watch me 24/7. This was for my own safety. The antipsychotic medication had started
kicking in but I still truly believed my son had died. All I felt was pure grief and guilt and was severely
suicidal.
I felt alone throughout the entire illness. Despite others telling me that my son was ok and
alive I just couldn’t feel it. I would
tell them that in my head he’s alive but in my heart I feel that I have lost
him. I would allow myself to feel no
comfort. I had failed to look after my
boy and I felt like a terrible mother.
There is a
lot of evidence that suggests that being apart from your newborn could further jeopardise
your bond. The longer I spent away from
him, the thought that he had died became more and more real. I only saw my baby once during my stay at the psychiatric ward. I felt excited and nauseous with anxiety at the
thought of seeing the baby. A lovely
psychiatric nurse went into a quiet room with me before they arrived. Steve came into the room and I gave him a
frightened hug. I was shaking. He showed me the baby. I looked at the baby
and saw the vision of him angry. I started crying in distress. I felt I had seen a ghost. I was so scared
Steve had to take the baby out of the room until I calmed down. I tried so hard, I kept trying to tell myself
that he was mine, but I just couldn’t truly believe it. The visit was
exhausting. I had never felt so low and
disconnected from myself and my son than I did in that ward.
I believed
I had brain damage. I know now that one of the symptoms of
PP is severe confusion. I couldn’t remember little things like how to spell my
babies name, what day of the week it was.
I couldn’t remember my words and I repeated myself a lot. I developed a nervous twitch and a stutter.
I was found a space at Coombe Wood Mother and Baby
unit, in London. I traveled in a car
with two mental health nurses whilst my partner drove behind with my mother-in-law and the baby. The nurses were kind and kept
telling me that I will improve in no time in the next place and the baby would
be able to stay with me. Despite being full of fear and despair during the chaotic car journey up, I was slowly
clinging on to the hope that they could all be right.
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| Week 2 at Coombe Wood "My First Walk' |
I arrived at the mother and baby mental health unit
disorientated, exhausted, timid and severely confused. I had no idea as to which part of London I
was in. I had never
felt so lost. Somewhere deep inside, I
was clinging on to the hope that I will be reunited with my family. I was
starting to believe that my partner was going to steal the baby from me. When my family arrived, My
mother-in-law sat next to me on a sofa with my baby in her arms and I couldn’t
look at him. I just cried. I was afraid
to look as I believed my baby had died.
I remember feeling how bizarre this illness was. How
bizarre the last two weeks had been. I felt
as if I was going to be locked away forever. The first morning at the
unit was a little clearer. I was so happy to be reunited with my partner after what felt like an eternity without him. I believed we were on holiday and felt extremely happy. When
I felt manic it was a large aspect to it that was fun. When your that high, its
like you're driving fast in a car without the break pedal. It’s fun but also terrifying and deadly.
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| Week 5 at Coombe Woode 'A Deckchair Family' |
My partner was allowed to stay at the hospital every weekend which was amazing. One of the hospitals ethos was to
keep families together as much as possible. I was able to go anywhere in the
building and I noticed the garden they had outside. The morning after we arrived we made a cup of
tea and I went outside. I had only
realised that I hadn’t been outside since the baby was born, only to go into
ambulances and cars. The baby was two weeks old by this point. I looked up at
the sky and felt I had been freed from years in prison. The sky was blue and I
found it beautiful. This were sparrows
and magpies. I finally felt a moment of
peace after a long time of misery. It
was then that I realised the worst was behind me and I was going to get better
here.
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| Week 9 at Coombe Wood, 'Family' |
I was treated in hospital for nearly 3 months. At the mother and baby unit, there were
health care assistants around the clock helping me look after my baby. I had access to baby massage and a sensory group that helped me bond with him. Staff would mind the baby at night in order for me to sleep. After 2 weeks, I ate a full meal. My Psychiatrists and the
Consultant kept a close eye on my medication. I received Art Therapy and EMDR Therapy. I was diagnosed
with PTSD and Maternal OCD following the psychosis.
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| Week 9 at Coombe Wood 'Self Portrait 2' |
Every staff member and patient came from all
over the world, Portugal, The West Indies, Jamaica, South Africa, India,
Romania, Italy, New Zealand, England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Croatia,
Nigeria and so on. I felt the world had
come together to help me and my baby. I
am eternally grateful to everyone who works at Coombe Wood. It was a hospital
full of love. I had support from the other mothers too, mothers who got how I was
feeling. Even though it was the hardest
time in our lives, we eventually found ways of laughing. I made very dear friends there. Everything would
become a little bit clearer as the days went on. The moment I realised that the baby had been
mine all along was emotional. Our bond
grew from there and it is still growing now. I believe now that love wins all.
Time for Change
My experience has led me to believe that there is a large stigma surrounding Mental Health. It is often not talked about and dismissed. I hope that when people read this blog, they will have an insight into the warning signs of this dangerous illness. I hope it provides help to other survivors of PP. I hope that one day The Welsh Government agrees to set up a Mother and Baby Mental Health Unit here as it is so vital. I urge anyone to sign petitions and fight for it. It is our collective responsibility to provide help and support mothers who are struggling with all postnatal illnesses.
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| Week 8 at Coombe Wood 'Home.' |
Symptoms of Postpartum Psychosis:
- feeling ‘high’, ‘manic’ or ‘on top of the world’
- low mood and tearfulness
- anxiety or irritability
- rapid changes in mood
- severe confusion
- being restless and agitated
- racing thoughts
- behaviour that is out of character
- being more talkative, active and sociable than usual
- being very withdrawn and not talking to people
- finding it hard to sleep, or not wanting to sleep
- losing your inhibitions
- feeling paranoid, suspicious, fearful
- feeling as if you’re in a dream world
- delusions: these are odd thoughts or beliefs that are unlikely to be true. For example, you might believe you have won the lottery. You may think your baby is possessed by the devil. You might think people are out to get you.
- hallucinations: this means you see, hear, feel or smell things that aren’t really there
Useful websites:
http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/postpartum-psychosis/Pages/Introduction.aspx#advice
http://www.app-network.org/PETITON: PLEASE SIGN FOR THE WELSH GOVERNMENT TO DISCUSS HAVING A MOTHER AND BABY UNIT IN WALES
https://you.38degrees.org.uk/petitions/no-mother-and-baby-unit-in-wales-perinatal-mental-health
