It doesn't escape me that barely 12 hours after posting my November Project Smile, I ended up in the Mental Health ward in our local hospital. And I had no idea. No idea that I was feeling as overwhelmed and stressed as everyone else apparently knew I was.
That night, after recording all my smiles for the previous month, was a long one. Jasper didn't settle. He simply wouldn't. I was exhausted, the girls had pushed the limits to breaking point through out the day. I asked James to stay awake with me, and in hindsight I suppose I knew I was not doing so well in that moment, but the poor thing was so tired and couldn't. Apparently, I yelled at him numerous times about falling asleep. I don't remember that.
In the morning I had pain in my wound and was feeling sick to my stomach, when I called to see if my Doctor - who was booked solid - could fit me in, I was told to come immediately. I thought I had an infection, but it seemed my Doctor was thinking along a different line. The moment he saw me he was asking how I was feeling, how I was coping and suddenly it dawned on me that I was a little 'mental' as James so eloquently puts it.
The fact that I suffered Post Natal Depression after Kahlei, my pre-disposition to the illness, my botched c-section, general after-newborn lack of sleep and the busy life of a mother of three (two of which are in major attudeous territory at the moment) accumulated into a landslide which turned into a meltdown.
At first, I felt like a failure. I couldn't survive a single week alone with my children and that weighed heavily on my heart and mind. I stressed about the pressure my hospital admittance put on James as he took time off work and had to deal with the drama that (currently) is our daughters. I worried about the future of our family; if I couldn't see out the week after Nanna's departure then how was I going to raise happy, healthy, well-rounded children? The guilt was amazing. Crushing. And as I sat and fed Jasper, for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour, on a cold couch all on my own I shed many tears for where I was, what had happened, what I was doing and how it was effecting my family. It was a dark moment.
But, somehow, that time in the hospital did what my Doctor intended. I saw a mental health worker, numerous midwives visited and I was linked to services I never thought I would have to utilise and somehow I started forming plans and thoughts on how to get through this struggle to have a happy, healthy family life and to get through day-to-day.
It means letting people help, it means asking and insisting for help when needed, it means letting community workers into my home and life, where I would never have otherwise. It means doing what ever it takes to overcome the isolation and loneliness to keep me afloat. And it means little steps, little plans of moments to look forward to. It means changes. It means focusing on doing something just for me daily.
It means the world, my world can stay in the light.
P.S. I would love to hear other stories on how people coped with PND, on what you did just for you to get you through. Any ideas, thoughts, stories you would like to share would be greatly appreciated!
