It was Maternal Mental Health Week this past week and a number of women took to social media to share a photo of themselves with their child as a newborn and to write what they felt then, and what they would tell that version of themselves now. I thought I’d do my own version of that here.

I’ve always wanted to be a mum. My career aspirations changed frequently but wanting to have children has always been a constant. So when I fell pregnant after years of trying, my husband and I were thrilled and so excited to welcome our first child into the world. I had a fairly straightforward pregnancy until the last week or so when I came out in an itchy rash all over my body. It was unbearable and it made it impossible to sleep (which was tricky anyway because I was huuuuge). After going to the antenatal clinic, the doctors told me that the rash would only go away once I’d given birth as it was some sort of allergic reaction to my son’s male hormones (polymorphic eruption of pregnancy if you fancy a Google). I was already a bit overdue so an induction was booked in.

My labour with our first born (C) was gruelling. Labour took a long time to get started and then we were in a frustrating waiting period where there was no room in the labour ward so the induction was kind of paused until room opened up, making it even longer than it was meant to be. Finally, after a 40+ hour labour, C was pulled unceremoniously into the world. He was placed into my exhausted arms and I was in love.

He was born at midnight and we spent a night on the postnatal ward where I didn’t sleep at all because, whilst C slept soundly the entire night, other babies on the ward did not. Therefore, the next day, I was desperate to get home so we were discharged only 18 hours after he was born.

We were home that evening and that night C slept like a baby (ie not very well), so there was another night of very limited sleep. At this point I was close to delirium I was so tired. The lack of sleep would continue until C turned about 2 years old when he finally started to sleep for longer than 2 hour stretches at a time.

Feeding was another challenge. Because we left the hospital so quickly, I didn’t get much of a chance for support with breastfeeding. I remember being on the ward and asking someone to come and show me what to do and someone (I can’t remember if it was a midwife or health care assistant) came and sat with me and gave me a very brief overview. So when we got home and I couldn’t figure it out, it was very stressful. When C was only 2 days old we went to a breastfeeding clinic to get some advice.

With the advice gleaned from the clinic and the incredible support from BABIES, a breastfeeding support charity at the time in Winchester, I finally felt that I got the hang of breastfeeding when C was about 10 weeks old. Without their support I would have given up out of pain and frustration. With it, I fed him until he was 2 years old.

In C’s first few weeks I also experienced some really unsettling intrusive thoughts. I wanted to take him “back”, then got really upset when I realised there was no where to take him, I was stuck with him. I was convinced I would never be able to do it again, which was heartbreaking because I longed for a big family. I didn’t feel this overwhelming love I thought I would feel, in fact I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him, and I was convinced there was something wrong with me. I’m so glad I reached out to friends who reassured me that my thoughts were normal and would pass, as I was terrified I just wasn’t cut out for this thing I had been longing for all my life.

The first few weeks of C’s life were incredibly dark for me and it wasn’t until he was about 6-8 weeks old that I started to feel I was bonding with him, that I loved him and that I could actually do it. Since, I have learned that all those feelings were totally normal, but at the time I had no idea.

What I would tell that version of myself now

I feel nothing but total awe and deep compassion for that version of myself. I’d love to take her by the hands and say that it’s little wonder she struggled so much in the first few weeks after such sleep deprivation and stressful experiences. That in the years after, C would receive an Autism diagnosis which would shed light on, if not explain, his early issues with feeding and sleeping. I had no idea what I was up against.

I would love to tell myself that I was doing an amazing job, that I was doing all the right things in reaching out for support, even if it made me feel crazy or like a failure.

I would encourage myself that we did go on to have more children, twins in fact, and that watching them all play together brings the warmth and joy to my heart that I was longing for.

I would tell myself that after having the twins, I didn’t sink to the depths again, partly because I knew I needed to take care of myself and to get all the support I could.

I was given a beautiful baby with additional needs that weren’t uncovered until much later, who was trying to figure out the new, confusing landscape of life Earthside just as much as I was.

Those first dark weeks were my first lesson in the importance of looking after myself in motherhood. It is a lesson I finding myself having to learn time and time again, especially in light of the extra challenges we have with the twins and parenting a child with additional needs. Nowadays, I look after my mental health by prioritising rest, by going for walks, by getting lots of sleep and by taking an antidepressant every day. I spend time with God in prayer and worship and I reach out to friends, family and professionals when I need help. The old adages of “you can’t pour from an empty cup” and “you need to put your oxygen mask on first” are true, as trite as they sound. I know and I have seen that looking after my mental health makes me a better mum. I hope this serves as an encouragement for you to do the same.

Sending love x