It was time to confront my Black Balloon

I had a call a few days later from someone at ‘Mind Matters’. The lady on the phone told me she needed to take me through a few questions before I could be referred for Counselling. She explained that she needed to find out the level of depression I was experiencing and a short questionnaire would help with that. She asked me how I had been feeling. I told her everything I had recently admitted to both my Mum and Mr N. She asked me a series of questions… some pretty basic and easy to answer and others made me feel a bit uncomfortable. She asked me “On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the most likely, did I want to harm my baby?” I answered minus 1 million there was no way I would ever hurt Little A as much as the intrusive thoughts made me feel as if I did. It made me sad… how could she possibly think I could ever hurt my Son?? I had to remember that she didn’t know me and she had to ask these questions. She then went on to ask, “On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the most likely, did I want to harm myself or take my own life?” I can honestly say that I never considered committing suicide but I had wondered whether everyone in my life would be better off without me.. I was failing at everything and they all deserved more.

Once she had taken me through all of the questions, she told me that not only did I score very highly for Postnatal Depression but that I scored even higher for Postnatal Anxiety; something I had never even realised with a thing. She confirmed the diagnosis and said that due to the importance of this type of mental illness I would be fast tracked for Counselling. I came away from the call and told Mr N everything that had been said. I couldn’t really describe how I felt… I was relieved that finally I had been diagnosed and that everything I had been feeling had an explanation but I also felt the sense of failure creeping back in. So many of my friends had had babies and were seemingly doing really well.. how was it that it was only me struggling to cope??

A little while later, a letter came through the post to tell me that I had my first Counselling session scheduled for a few weeks’ time and I would have a one hourly session every week for 6 weeks. My Mum was amazing and told me she would come and take Little A so I didn’t need to worry. We would then go for lunch and I could tell her all about it.

The morning of my first Counselling session, I woke up anxious and nervous. I have never suffered with my mental health and so have never felt the need to seek the services of a Therapist. If I’m being honest.. I thought it was all a bit unnecessary but at this moment in time I was hanging all my hopes on it.

It was 17 December 2019 and nearly Christmas. The weather outside was cold, dark and rainy.. it matched how I was feeling perfectly. I met my Mum and we walked up the high street to the venue. My Mum almost had to kick me up the bum to get me to go in… as we got outside I froze and wasn’t sure if I could do it. Telling someone my problems seemed so self-indulgent and I was worried she’d think I was being ridiculous.

The first session flew by… before I knew it my Therapist was looking at the clock and hurrying me out the door. I cried lots that session.. actually I cried a huge amount across all 6 sessions. She got me straight away.. she noticed from what I was saying that I like control and that I feel lost when I have none. Having a baby is the ultimate loss of control.

Over the next 6 weeks I told my Therapist things that I never even realised had bothered me. I explained that I hated my post baby body.. I hated what I saw when I looked in the mirror; it didn’t look like me. I talked through my pregnancy and how awful my labour was.. she thought that it had caused PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) which was only exacerbating all my other symptoms. She was amazing at turning anything I’d been feeling on its head; I had gone out of my way to avoid baby groups and classes because I was so anxious that Little A would scream the entire time; she asked for evidence that Little A had ever done that to which I could find none. She told me that babies cry and no one would judge me if he did scream.

She told me that the biggest problem faced by new Mums is the expectation of how motherhood is going to be. Society paints a picture of the perfect life and because of this we expect that we should behave a certain way or feel a certain way. I imagined that I would instantly love my baby as soon as I saw him; I imagined the ‘rush’ of love that everyone tells you about. When that rush of love didn’t come, I felt confused. Was there something wrong with me??

My Therapist told me that I used the word ‘should’ far too much. I should feel a certain way, I should be doing more. It was the ‘should’ that was causing a lot of my issues. None of my expectations had been met; I was failing at everything I believed ‘should’ be happening.

During one of the sessions, I was asked to imagine that everything I was going through was happening to my best friend instead of me. She asked me to tell her what I would tell my friend if she came to me for help. I would tell her to stop being so hard on herself, to be kind and to take things one day at a time. She said she’d noticed that whilst I found it easy to be compassionate towards my friend, I gave none to myself and I couldn’t explain why.

I only confessed to certain people at that point that I had officially been diagnosed. People I knew I could trust but I still felt the weight of judgement from some people. The stigma surrounding mental health is still huge but it seems to be even bigger around Postnatal mental health. I found it crazy enough to believe myself that all this was happening just because I’d had a baby. A lot of people still don’t understand and so think you’re being ‘dramatic’.

From then on I decided to spend my time with the people who didn’t see me any differently and would understand if I was having a tough time. I would hate to be a burden; that was my biggest concern about telling people I was struggling. I pride myself on always being bright, bubbly and positive and I hadn’t felt like that for a long time; certainly not since I had Little A. I didn’t want to be a black cloud bringing other people down.

A few weeks into my sessions, my Therapist decided to tackle the deep rooted trauma that I was struggling with following the birth of Little A. One of the biggest things I was struggling to accept was the episiotomy that I had to have done; I kept having flashbacks of the scissors and the doctor cutting me open. I felt as if I’d been butchered and I worried that I would never look the same ‘down below’. How could I expect Mr N to ever find me attractive again with my bits looking the way they did.

She tried to turn things on its head so I could look at it in a different way; instead of me looking back on that as something that horrified me and something I had no control of, she told me that it was necessary to save my Son’s life. Little A was struggling which we later found out was due to the cord being wrapped around his neck and without the use of the forceps I dread to think what could have happened. She also told me what a wonderful thing the body is and that it would heal but I had to give myself time.

My Therapist told me that the trauma I felt about the birth would stay hidden away until I faced it head on; something I didn’t know if I was prepared to do. She asked me to close my eyes and think about that day and what happened; I told her that although I knew it had happened to me I felt as if I had disassociated myself from it. She said she knew I’d done that but was waiting for me to realise it. Apparently, it’s the brain’s way of coping… it locks the trauma and the pain away so that we can carry on. I began to cry. She then asked me to describe where I was feeling the pain and what I was seeing; I told her my heart really hurt; it was dark and cold and I could literally feel the pain in my chest. She talked through everything that had happened. I sobbed for what seemed like hours but it was more like minutes. I had actually faced what happened to me for the first time… maybe now it was out in the open I could start dealing with it. I left the session that day feeling a little bit lighter.

Each session dealt with something different; she worked me out pretty much straight away. It became easier and easier to talk about my feelings. Considering I had initially thought that Therapy wasn’t for me by the end of it I was so glad I did it. The 6 sessions changed my life; I even went to a baby group. Yes I was anxious and yes I felt on edge the whole time but I met a couple of my Mum friends and Little A had a great time.

I used the end of my Therapy as the starting point for my recovery. I would take it a day at a time but I was confident that I would overcome this and I would beat my demon.