Smashing the Stigma
When I was unwell, stigma was one of the biggest issues for me and is one of the main reasons I am so invested now in raising awareness and supporting parents to access support.
Having a newborn baby for the first time is a complete rollercoaster — the lack of sleep is like nothing you have ever experienced before and despite feeling completely prepared, I quite quickly realised I didn’t have a clue! Immediately I knew I didn’t feel right. It should have been the happiest time of my life but I just felt this deep sadness that I couldn’t shift. I couldn’t explain it and I definitely didn’t understand it. Meanwhile everyone around me was gushing over my newborn son, telling me how happy I must be and wasn’t it just the most amazing feeling ever. When everyone expects you to feel that way how on earth do you turn around and say actually I’m not happy at all. Worst of all no one was asking about me so I felt like I was being selfish trying to make it about me when everyone else was just focused on my son. Why couldn’t I solely focus on him like everyone else was?!
We struggled with feeding and reflux and I always felt completely out of my depth. I was used to working in a fast paced career where I was top of my game and knew what I was doing. Suddenly my life felt empty in a way I couldn’t describe. I was expected to sit and feed a baby all day except he wouldn’t feed easily — he couldn’t latch on and no amount of private lactation consultants, you tube videos or anything else I tried could make it easier. Everyone had said breastfeeding was natural…if it was that natural then why was I struggling so much. When he was 3 weeks old I was rushed into hospital with sepsis. Unfortunately this affected my milk quality and I had to introduce formula. At the time I was devastated — what sort of mum was I if I couldn’t even feed my baby ‘naturally’! I will never forget giving him formula in hospital — I had cried for 3 days straight over the decision and eventually taking control went to give him
a bottle. These disposable bottles provided by the hospital were for newborns so I went onto the formula website to see how much he needed. When I entered the website they asked me to tick to acknowledge that I knew breastfeeding was best for my baby. That just took everything out of me — in my eyes I had completed failed him as a mum and he was better off without me. I felt like a complete failure but as far as I could see no one else was struggling so I didn’t dare tell anyone how I felt. I thought I just be the only one and that if I did tell them they would think I was an awful person and definitely wouldn’t think I was a good enough mum to keep my baby.
Looking back now I don’t think maternal mental health had ever been covered and I was oblivious to it! Having no prior experience of mental illness I’m not sure I would have paid attention even if there was anything. I think I would have thought it something irrelevant to me. When someone first mentioned a potential referral to the perinatal team my reply was “I’m not that sort of person”. What did I even mean by that? My complete naivety baffles me now! After a few weeks of concerned professionals regularly asking me whether I would consent to a referral being made, I started to wonder whether perhaps I should consider it. By this point I felt awful every day and the low mood had begun to suffocate me. Eventually after months and after it had been discussed countless times I consented to the referral. Even after it had been put in though I tried to retract it. I was terrified — that everyone would think less of me for being the mum who couldn’t cope, that they would think me weak and even worse that they would think I was a bad mum.
Even after contact with the perinatal mental health team started I had to battle against the stigma. They tried to persuade me to see a Psychiatrist and a Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN) but I’d never even heard of these roles before. I had no idea what they meant but, from films and tv, anything linked to psychiatry was for people who were mad. I was convinced this meant they thought I was mad and that seeing these professionals would put me into a different category, a somewhat worse one. I refused to see them and the GP ended up having to manage my medication. Ironically they messed up the doses which was what plunged me into my first serious crisis. By the time I eventually agreed to a CPN I was so poorly I was almost hospitalised. I wish I had known then what role these professionals had within the MDT so that I had felt able to accept the full help I needed when I needed it. When they then tried to put me on antidepressants I refused. I walked around with that prescription burning a hole in my handbag for 8 weeks because I was scared the pharmacist would judge me. I believed all of the tales I had heard around them blunting my personality and making me feel drugged up all the time. However when I was told I had eclampsia postnatally I took the blood pressure medication without even questioning it. Another postnatal complication so why was it any different?!
My final battle against stigma was when I was referred by my CPN to the crisis team. By this point I had already stored medication and on one occasion had sat on the bed and got them all out ready to take, a chance visit from a friend interrupting me. When I was referred to the crisis team I was terrified. We were going away and I have never packed so fast, being determined that we would leave the house before they arrived. I was convinced that because I was suicidal they would march me off to hospital against my will, that I would lose any control I had in my care and that social services would become involved because surely if I couldn’t look after myself they wouldn’t trust me to look after my son. Of course none of this happened and I wish I had known that the role of the crisis team was to support me to stay at home, not to try and hospitalise me.
When I had my second child three years later I was prepped and I understood the stigma and how incorrect it was. I had a better knowledge of services and I mostly accepted all of the support available (except the odd wobble when I was in crisis). Everyone agreed I was much more poorly second time around, however, I never had to fight against the stigma. I embraced the support, I let it hold me when I needed it and, global pandemic aside (which definitely complicated my recovery) I recovered better for it.
Perinatal mental illness does not discriminate. It doesn’t care who you are or what you might have achieved in the past. It doesn’t care if you haven’t had a day of mental illness in your life before. It is for this reason that I will spend every day shouting about maternal mental illness. No one should have to put on a brave face when inside they are falling apart.
