My Black Balloon in Lockdown

After my Counselling I was having some good days and I had started making small changes which meant I was able to cope a bit better. On a weekend I would leave Little A with Mr N for an hour and I would go for a walk on my own; get a coffee and read a magazine. Having some ‘me’ time was really helping and it was also nice for Mr N to get some Daddy and Son time.

A few months after I had Little A, it was mine and Mr N’s first Wedding Anniversary. Our plans of spending the night at our wonderful venue celebrating were put on hold as we were in the grips of new born chaos but a few weeks later my Mum and Dad offered to come and watch Little A so we could go for lunch and celebrate on our own. I was in the early days of what I thought was just the baby blues and whilst it was lovely to have some alone time with Mr N, I remember dreading finishing my lunch because it meant that we had to go home and home felt like a prison. I felt the same the first few times I went out on my own… I wondered who would miss me if I just kept on walking.

It was my Therapist who suggested that having some time just for me would be a good thing. Before having Little A I was independent and sociable and I think one of the things I was struggling with was not being able to do things whenever I wanted; my life revolved around a baby and I was fighting against that. Being able to go out on my own every now and then for just a few hours was really helping.

Once I’d had my Counselling, whilst I looked forward to some time on my own, I actually really missed Little A so I knew it was definitely working. I was doing so well with my recovery and I was feeling more confident that I could beat this; I could finally shift the Black Balloon.

Then out of nowhere and without any warning… along came Covid-19.

When the virus first hit, Mr N was under the impression that it was no worse than Flu and that everyone was being a bit over the top. As the days passed, it seemed to get more and more serious. Before we knew it, Mr N was told to work from home and his office was closed. We live in a small terraced house with one downstairs lounge/dining room; it was not designed for three people to spend 24 hours a day in. Mr N set himself up at our dining room table; the huge screens and his laptop took over one corner of the room. At first it was lovely to have him home; he was a bit of extra support in the daytime when Little A was wanting attention and he was around more which was nice. As the weeks have dragged on though, Mr N has more work to do and more video calls to be on and Little A gets louder as he gets older. He screeches with happiness when he’s jumping around in his Jumperoo and as each new day passes he becomes increasingly chatty. It’s wonderful to see him developing but it also makes me anxious. Mr N finds it difficult to concentrate and focus being at home and I feel on edge when we’re all in the lounge together whilst he’s on the phone, especially in case Little A makes too much noise.

Some people have commented on how I can even still be suffering as I have Mr N home every day; those comments are from people who have no idea and they don’t help me. If anything its actually harder having Mr N home as it’s like having an extra pair of hands but not being able to rely on that pair of hands as he’s working.

I have had some really tough days whilst we’ve been in lockdown. Little A is developing at such a quick rate and it can make him frustrated and angry when he cannot do something. He now has 3 teeth which has caused lots of pain and tears. I find it difficult being apart from my Mum especially; I knew how much I relied on her support but I think I’d underestimated how much I actually needed her. Not being able to see my Dad and Sister is also hard. I cannot meet any of my friends; their little ones are growing up just like Little A and I miss not being able to see them. I miss not being able to go out where and when I want to.

The weather has a massive impact on my mental health; if the sun is shining and it’s warm I feel instantly brighter even on a tough day. When it’s dark and miserable, I find it difficult to get out of the house. I also find that if I get dressed I feel better. The other alternative is to stay in my jim jams and that doesn’t help.

I was doing so well before the lockdown but now I fear that I will forever be haunted by my Black Balloon; unable to see through the never ending fog.

I have had days when I have seriously considered whether I can carry on. Some days are just too hard; Little A needs so much of me and often I feel that I have nothing to give. Some days I feel like all I do is exist and I don’t even think I do a very good job at that.

People keep telling me to enjoy this time with Little A because it goes by so fast… it’s the worst thing you can say to someone suffering with Postnatal Depression. I feel very much like I’ve been robbed; the early days of motherhood which might be tough but should be filled with so much joy; joy that I didn’t get to experience. I spent months pushing Little A away, I pined for my old life and I massively regretted having a baby. I resented him for everything I felt that I’d lost and blamed him for all the pain I was in. I won’t ever get those days back and I will never forgive myself for feeling that way. The guilt will live with me forever. Perhaps when encouraging new Mums to treasure these moments because they don’t last forever, we should also reassure them that they will survive the tough moments because they too don’t last forever.

My battle with Postnatal Depression is ongoing and seems to be harder than ever at the moment. I have good days when Little A is a dream and he’ll reach out and stroke my face and giggle when I do a silly dance and I feel nothing but love and I have bad days when just making it through to bedtime seems like an impossible task; when the weight of my battle rests on my shoulders and life feels heavy; when I isolate myself from everyone and can’t bring myself to reply to any messages.

Maybe one day I’ll learn to take my own advice and be a bit kinder to myself; I’ll offer myself some compassion and give myself a break.