MY STORY - PART 2
After returning to the ward and spending a short time with my husband and newborn daughter I was left on my own. It was 3am. I was still experiencing the effects of an epidural and had what felt like hundreds of IV’s and cables coming off me everywhere.
My daughter was sleeping in a crib next to the end of the bed. I felt the worst I had ever felt in my life. What just happened? Trying to take a moment to regroup and take in the last 48 hours I just wanted my Mum. It didn’t matter I was a grown woman, I had just been through the biggest physical ordeal of my life and I wanted my Mum, someone to mother me and that was not going to happen. I felt shattered.
It wasn’t long before my daughter woke up and started crying. I could not reach her from where I was in the bed and I could hardly move. The call button for the nurses had fallen down on the floor and I couldn’t even reach the cable to pull it back up. I felt so helpless and that’s when it started. The more my daughter cried the more I could feel my mind breaking. It could not cope, trying to process death and birth at the same time. The best way I can explain it is it was like my mind broke into a million pieces and joined back together again but in a different way, all in the space of a split second.
Now it probably also had something to do with the cocktail of pain killers and other drugs coursing through my system at that time and not really understanding the enormity of the physical ordeal I had just been through but with each cry I grew more and more anxious and fearful and started having some very, very scary and intrusive visions. I won’t go into the details of what those were but they involved my daughter coming to harm and they were terrifying. Here I was, an intelligent, educated woman…what the hell was happening to me?
I started calling out for help and after what seemed like an eternity, a very stern midwife came into the room. I tried explaining to her what was going on and she told me off for making so much noise! On my request she wheeled my daughter out of the room so I could get some sleep. I spent the next hours until sunrise wide awake and sobbing uncontrollably.
At sunrise the midwife that was present at my daughter’s birth came in to take my observations and check on me before she finished her shift. She took one look at me and with a simple question of “Are you ok?” I started crying again.
She sat with me and held my hand while I explained to her how I didn’t feel right, about the visions I was having and how I didn’t want to be left alone with my daughter as I was scared I was going to hurt her. I was shaking uncontrollably. Without judgement she listened to me and then helped me into a wheelchair and gave me a shower, in the hope it would make me feel a little better. I was so embarrassed at a stranger doing all this for me, seeing me so vulnerable. Her simple act of kindness and caring still means so much to me to this day.
A few hours later the doctor in charge, a mental health crisis team and my husband were sitting around my bedside. Having to explain to them about my visions and how I was feeling so fearful of hurting my daughter was one of the lowest points in my life. I felt like an absolute monster and that I was letting everyone down, especially my husband and newborn baby girl.
It was decided that I would stay in hospital until I had physically recovered enough to go home and I would be referred onto a Mother and baby unit as soon as a place was available. For those who may not know, a Mother and Baby unit is a specialised residential unit usually attached to the psychiatric ward of a hospital, where mothers can stay with their babies whilst being treated for post natal mental health conditions.
All up I spent 6 days in hospital. During the days I slowly started to gain confidence being around my daughter. I was able to breastfeed as long as I had someone else in the room with me. At night the nurses would take her to begin with but the little sleep I did get was disturbed by continuing visions and nightmares. l would wake fretting for my daughter and frantically need to know she was ok.
I was discharged from hospital and spent the next 2 weeks at home with visits in the first week from the mental health team, midwives and maternal health nurse. I was not happy to be home. I was on edge, in a constant state of “fight or flight”. My daughter would wake to feed every hour during the night. I was exhausted and in pain all the time. My visions did not stop and the thoughts of harming my daughter started turning into thoughts of harming myself instead. Those were very hard days.
The day I got the call to say a place was available for us at a Mother and Baby unit I could hardly speak through the tears on the phone. I felt so relieved. Our little girl was thriving thankfully...but I was not...
To be continued in Part 3...
After returning to the ward and spending a short time with my husband and newborn daughter I was left on my own. It was 3am. I was still experiencing the effects of an epidural and had what felt like hundreds of IV’s and cables coming off me everywhere.
My daughter was sleeping in a crib next to the end of the bed. I felt the worst I had ever felt in my life. What just happened? Trying to take a moment to regroup and take in the last 48 hours I just wanted my Mum. It didn’t matter I was a grown woman, I had just been through the biggest physical ordeal of my life and I wanted my Mum, someone to mother me and that was not going to happen. I felt shattered.
It wasn’t long before my daughter woke up and started crying. I could not reach her from where I was in the bed and I could hardly move. The call button for the nurses had fallen down on the floor and I couldn’t even reach the cable to pull it back up. I felt so helpless and that’s when it started. The more my daughter cried the more I could feel my mind breaking. It could not cope, trying to process death and birth at the same time. The best way I can explain it is it was like my mind broke into a million pieces and joined back together again but in a different way, all in the space of a split second.
Now it probably also had something to do with the cocktail of pain killers and other drugs coursing through my system at that time and not really understanding the enormity of the physical ordeal I had just been through but with each cry I grew more and more anxious and fearful and started having some very, very scary and intrusive visions. I won’t go into the details of what those were but they involved my daughter coming to harm and they were terrifying. Here I was, an intelligent, educated woman…what the hell was happening to me?
I started calling out for help and after what seemed like an eternity, a very stern midwife came into the room. I tried explaining to her what was going on and she told me off for making so much noise! On my request she wheeled my daughter out of the room so I could get some sleep. I spent the next hours until sunrise wide awake and sobbing uncontrollably.
At sunrise the midwife that was present at my daughter’s birth came in to take my observations and check on me before she finished her shift. She took one look at me and with a simple question of “Are you ok?” I started crying again.
She sat with me and held my hand while I explained to her how I didn’t feel right, about the visions I was having and how I didn’t want to be left alone with my daughter as I was scared I was going to hurt her. I was shaking uncontrollably. Without judgement she listened to me and then helped me into a wheelchair and gave me a shower, in the hope it would make me feel a little better. I was so embarrassed at a stranger doing all this for me, seeing me so vulnerable. Her simple act of kindness and caring still means so much to me to this day.
A few hours later the doctor in charge, a mental health crisis team and my husband were sitting around my bedside. Having to explain to them about my visions and how I was feeling so fearful of hurting my daughter was one of the lowest points in my life. I felt like an absolute monster and that I was letting everyone down, especially my husband and newborn baby girl.
It was decided that I would stay in hospital until I had physically recovered enough to go home and I would be referred onto a Mother and baby unit as soon as a place was available. For those who may not know, a Mother and Baby unit is a specialised residential unit usually attached to the psychiatric ward of a hospital, where mothers can stay with their babies whilst being treated for post natal mental health conditions.
All up I spent 6 days in hospital. During the days I slowly started to gain confidence being around my daughter. I was able to breastfeed as long as I had someone else in the room with me. At night the nurses would take her to begin with but the little sleep I did get was disturbed by continuing visions and nightmares. l would wake fretting for my daughter and frantically need to know she was ok.
I was discharged from hospital and spent the next 2 weeks at home with visits in the first week from the mental health team, midwives and maternal health nurse. I was not happy to be home. I was on edge, in a constant state of “fight or flight”. My daughter would wake to feed every hour during the night. I was exhausted and in pain all the time. My visions did not stop and the thoughts of harming my daughter started turning into thoughts of harming myself instead. Those were very hard days.
The day I got the call to say a place was available for us at a Mother and Baby unit I could hardly speak through the tears on the phone. I felt so relieved. Our little girl was thriving thankfully...but I was not...
To be continued in Part 3...
