Bonkers Page 6

  • It’s OK to ask for help post-baby

  A lot of mums feel traumatised after childbirth. Then, thanks to social pressures and the expectations we put on ourselves, we feel abnormal and like shit mums for feeling anything but elated at the thought of our baby, the birth and our new life in general. You are not alone. There is help out there to help you process your birth experience. Grab it with both hands as soon as you can, and punch that bastard that is post-birth guilt and trauma in the face! (For support with birth trauma please see the services listed on page 236–page 238.)

  • You are in control

  Easy to say when you’re not five centimetres dilated and climbing the wall in excruciating pain. So remember it is your baby, your body and your choice on how you want things to happen when it comes to pushing your tiny human out into the world. Whether that’s a home birth, epidural, water birth or good old gas and air, the choice is yours. As long as you and the baby are healthy and in a good condition, then you reign supreme and those around you have to do as you wish.

  • It’s normal to have stitches!

  Come on, let’s get real! Our bodies are bloody amazing things, but even the hardiest of vaginas are in need of some patching up after pushing what feels like a tiny elephant through a walnut shell! Seriously! Yes, I too squirmed at the thought of this, thinking how awful it would be to have stitches in my nether regions. However, it is totally normal, it happens to most women, and it’s nothing to be worried about – after what your vagina has already been through in childbirth, stitches will be a walk in the park.

  • You may poo yourself!

  I think I was dreading this more than the actual thought of childbirth when pregnant with my first! So much so that at six centimetres dilated and mid-contractions I made my hubby walk me to the loo because I couldn’t imagine anything worse than pooing in front of strangers! What a bloody fool! Three centimetres and a failed epidural later, I wouldn’t have cared if I had pebbledashed the whole bloody team of midwives! Needless to say that with my second I never even thought about it. Did I poo myself? Who the hell knows? And seriously, who the hell cares? I promise you will want to give a shit (literally) but you won’t even know about it if it does happen.

  • Scream, grunt, swear

  Admit it, we’ve all been there watching One Born Every Minute whilst a mum screams and grunts her baby into existence and found ourselves thinking, ‘I will never sound like that!’ Pah! Ha, ha! Don’t kid yourselves. Most importantly, do whatever it takes to get you through it. From screaming profanities to making sounds you never thought possible, these noises will help you get through whatever you need to get through, so just let it rip!

  • You are brave enough!

  Whatever happens to you through your birth experience, you need to know this: no matter how brave you think you are in normal everyday life, no matter how little faith you have in yourself, no matter how low you feel your pain threshold is and no matter if you are the biggest scaredy-cat of all time, you are brave enough and strong enough to bring your tiny human into the world.

  • Did I mention it will eventually be over?!

  Yes, like everything in life, it does have an ending. You will get there, and no matter how knackered, distraught, amazed, euphoric, and sore you are, you have brought a beautiful tiny human into this world. You are magnificent!

  WHY NO MUM SHOULD BE JUDGED ON HOW SHE BRINGS HER TINY HUMAN INTO THE WORLD

  One of the main things that can suck the enjoyment and our sense of achievement out of childbirth – alongside failed epidurals, tearing and eye-bulging pain, obvs – is the judgement we can feel post-baby when it comes to the question of how we brought our tiny human into the world. I for one, was floored by it. My response was to write the following article for my blog and The Huffington Post, which got such a fantastic response from mums across the world that I want to share it with you here:

  What’s the worst thing about childbirth?

  Forget the pain, the stretching and the climb the wall, ‘Shit, there’s no turning back’ fear. You then feel as though you have to face the gauntlet of being judged on the methods by which your child arrived. Did you opt for every drug going? Or did you instead bite down on a bit of bark, freshly plucked from the garden, whilst you squatted over a bucket, birthing au naturel.

  SERIOUSLY, who cares?!

  Apparently a hell of a lot of people! Don’t they realise that it’s none of their business whether you pushed your baby out through a teeny hole in your body or whether a surgeon had to slice a hole in your tummy to get your baby out? Why, oh why are people so bothered? And why do us mums feel like we are being scored or failed depending on our birthing methods and choices?

  Does it make us lesser human beings if we choose to have pain relief to aide the safe arrival of our baby? And why do some women feel the need to proclaim on their Facebook status and to anyone who will listen that they did it the ‘natural’ way and did not ‘give in’ by opting for pain relief or a c-section. NEWSFLASH! Giving birth is not a competition and we are doing a dangerous disservice to every mum out there by turning it into one.

  As mums we all have our own plans concerning how to achieve the best birth experience for ourselves. Mine was to get as far as I could with breathing techniques and then opt for a big fat epidural to get me through the rest. However, as all us procreators are aware, childbirth happens when you’re busy making birth plans. An hour into my epidural, its magical, pain-eradicating powers ceased working and instead dumped me alone in the wilderness, grunting, screaming and willing for any form of warrior prowess to conjure itself up and get ‘this baby out of me as fast as possible’. So did I have a ‘natural’ birth? I am not ashamed to admit that the pain, stretching and downright speed of it all felt anything but natural.

  Do I feel smug or better than the next mum because I had to endure the unspeakable pain of pushing my baby out into the world drug free? Do I feel this makes me a better or stronger person compared to a woman who had an elected c-section? Hell no, the only thing I feel is royally cheated and hacked off that the epidural didn’t work and that the birth I had planned was snatched out of my hands, leaving me in total shock and bewilderment.

  Surely, getting your baby here in the safest way for both baby and mum is what should be the main concern when discussing childbirth? Surely, asking a mum how her birth experience was for her should be the only question? Instead of judging and scoring women on the types of birth they end up having, the main aim should be to ensure that every mum (despite the obvious physical pain they may experience) feels satisfied with their birth experience and that it hasn’t traumatised them to the point where it is now affecting their new life as being a mum.

  You see, that’s the thing about opinions on childbirth. The negative effects of certain opinions can cause a serious domino effect in the life of a mum, leaving her traumatised if she didn’t have the birth she had planned and hoped for and then feeling judged by those who feel she should have done it differently.

  This mum and every mum like her needs to be given a break and a huge congratulatory pat on the back. Not only has she brought a new life into this world, but she has done it under circumstances she had not planned for, wanted or considered. It should be this woman who gets the accolades and who is held high on the birthing pedestals. The woman who despite wanting a home birth is instead rushed into A&E for an emergency c-section, the woman who despite planning pain relief ends up giving birth on the bathroom floor drug-free. The woman who after pushing for hours is whipped into surgery to have her most intimate of areas cut to allow her child to be unceremoniously dragged into the world and the woman who, regardless of outside opinion, sticks to her gut instincts in order to have the birth she wants. Therefore, every mum who grows and brings a new person into this world, regardless of the means we choose to do this or the unforeseen circumstances we are dealt, should be applauded not judged.

  There is no failure to be found in any female brave enough
to go through the process of childbirth, no matter what that process may be. There is no such thing as ‘giving in’ or taking the ‘easy option’ when it comes to childbirth. Instead, the heroic act of childbirth, no matter what shape or form it is delivered in, is one to be bowed down to with awe, respect and rewarded with the admiration it deserves.

  CHAPTER 5

  BECOMING MUM – THE EARLY DAYS

  DEAR YOU – A LETTER TO THE NEW MUM

  Dear You,

  ‘You are doing so, so great!’

  Yes, I’m talking about you.

  YOU who hasn’t slept for more than two hours straight in what feels like since the beginning of time.

  YOU whose vagina is in such climb-the-wall-pain you can barely breathe without wanting to sell off your lady bits to the highest bidder.

  YOU whose C-section scars are leaving you feeling helpless for not being able to pick up the baby, move around like normal and do everything you thought you would be doing as a new mum.

  YOU, who are traumatised to your very core following your harrowing experiences of childbirth but feel too scared to talk about them.

  YOU who are working your way through breast-feeding via cracked nipples, the pain urging you to give up but the mix of determination and guilt making you carry on regardless of your own health because you don’t want to ‘let down’ your tiny human.

  YOU who desperately wanted to breast-feed but couldn’t and are now feeling like you’ve failed.

  YOU who didn’t want to breast-feed and now feel judged.

  I’m talking to YOU, the mum who is taking everything in her stride.

  YOU, the mum struggling to get out of the door before the next feed, nappy change or tiny human tantrum.

  To YOU, the mum missing her old life and counting down the days until you can return to work.

  To YOU, the mum for whom the very idea of returning to work is making you feel sick to the stomach.

  To YOU, the mum attending another playdate, park visit, mother and baby group and feeling like you’ve got more of a social life now than ever before.

  To YOU, the mum housebound due to crippling anxiety, postnatal depression and unable to see a way out.

  To YOU, the mum wondering if you and your partner will survive the mayhem, exhaustion and financial and emotional strains becoming parents has put on your relationship.

  To YOU, the mum feeling lonely and isolated.

  To ALL of YOU mums doing the best you can to be the best mum you can be to your tiny human despite battling with some or all of the above.

  YOU, my fellow mums are doing a fantastic job!

  Love,

  Liv xx

  MY STORY: ‘IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES, IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES …’

  The night I gave birth to our beautiful little girl was the night things changed forever. Not just because her birth started us on the path of being a family but because (without us knowing) it also placed us on the path to living with a maternal mental health illness. A one-way path that led me to the destination where I recognized I had been changed forever.

  I left the labour room with a baby in my arms but I also left behind there a piece of myself. A piece that made me who I was. Someone, with an unassuming optimism and the belief that staying positive was enough to ensure everything would be OK. I could get through anything.

  The person I was when I entered that labour room, is no longer here. I now know that she is gone forever. Even though I am well and free of the illness, I will never get that person back. I will never be her again.

  Now, I feel like I need to step in here for a mo, just in case you are worrying that I am getting a little bit too dark. Admittedly, things for me did get very dark for a while. However, this book and our friendship is built on being able to share our stories of motherhood in all their shades and all their glory. This honesty and commitment to facing things and addressing things head on (no matter how dark) is at the heart of what is going to empower me, you and every mum reading these words to make their mental health a priority. This is going to act as a much needed and vital reminder that every mum deserves the right to enjoy motherhood. And that some of our most challenging of times lead us to become the most formidable of people.

  So let’s go through the darkness together …

  Back on the labour ward, this feeling of leaving something, a part of me, behind that night explains (now) why I felt so desolate in the days following her birth. I was a shell of my former self. Yes, exhausted and in pain from the birth, but more than that, there was just something missing. Despite having the one thing that was supposed to complete me, I was somehow more incomplete than I ever had been before.

  Looking back now, I can see that just hours after giving birth, huge pieces of me had already gone AWOL. The cornerstone of my personality, my self-confidence, had started to erode. The rot had set in. My body and mind, exhausted from childbirth, had nothing left in reserve to provide a defence against such a silent and swift attack. An attack that was now running amok through my happiness, undermining my ability to feel joy and my strength to cope with whatever life throws at me.

  My illness (of which I was unaware of at the time) savaged my very soul. It took my self-identity, and allowed feelings of fear, anger, anxiety and isolation to puff out their chests and flood into every vacant corner of my being.

  This sense of desolation, of feeling that I had been taken over and no longer existed, was there from the moment I was wheeled out of that labour room. Surely, though, I just needed some rest? Just needed to get myself together and get on with being mum and then everything would go back to normal and I’d be OK, wouldn’t I?

  THE EARLY WARNING SIGNS THAT SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT

  • Birth Trauma

  My first cry for help, which should have triggered the first alarm bell, was when a midwife came to see me in hospital a day or so after the birth and asked, ‘How was the birth for you?’.

  We were still in neonatal being monitored and the midwife came in to see me. Sat down on my bed with my hubby watching us both and spoke these words which quite simply broke my heart and struck something so raw in me that it literally sucked the breath right out of me.

  I sobbed – big, ugly, heart-wrenching sobs – as I repeated my answer to her. The only answer that could ever exist for me in response to such a question: ‘Shocking … Shocking … Shocking.’ Painfully spoken in between my guttural and impossible-to-contain sobs of despair.

  This was my first ‘moment’ of truth, the first indication that something was not quite right.

  However, for reasons I still don’t know or understand, this cry went unanswered, unacknowledged and unmonitored. Perhaps it was because I was a new mum who had only just given birth to a premature baby, so the midwife thought me having a good cry was only ‘natural’. Or perhaps the midwife didn’t feel my response was enough to put me on their radar or to probe deeper into my feelings of despair? I still do not have the answers. I still question even now, Why didn’t I realise this was not the ‘normal’ way to feel? Why did my internal alarm bell not go off? Why did neither my husband nor I realise something was not quite right?

  I often wonder how different the outcome would have been if the midwife and doctors had understood that things were not as they should be or if I had realised I was ill. It was only months later after being diagnosed with postnatal depression (PND) and being able to talk to friends about what I had been through, that I shared this story with a close friend who had given birth around the same time. When her midwife had asked her the very same question about her birth experience, she replied that she had a really good experience and that she felt well and happy about the birth and her recovery from it. Surely my response was not the response of a happy and relieved mum. Surely this was not the ‘normal’ response? So why was this not noticed? My experiences afterward would have been monumentally different if it had been.

  Now I know that if I had been aware of the effects that a negative birt
h experience can have on your state of mind, if I had been aware that ‘birth trauma’ was a thing that could actually happen. It would have been on my radar and also my husband’s. I would have recognised it. I would have been mentally prepared for the possibility of it. And I would have asked for help. Oh yes, the cruel beauty of hindsight.

  • Crippling anxiety and panic attacks

  During those early days in hospital, another guest to my post-birth party was a new and soon to become not so welcome friend: crippling anxiety. And in much the same way that many of the symptoms manifested themselves, it was sort of always present from the moment I became a mum. In fact, it jumped into the spotlight and made its debut in my life whilst I was still in hospital with Éva.

  Éva was due to have her first bath, something I had said my hubby should do, so he could have his very own ‘first experience’ with her. (I thought he should do the baby’s first bath as I got to do all the other firsts.)

  We’d been told the time to take her and we were on our way to the neonatal unit, Éva being wheeled in her plastic cot by Daddy and me shuffling in agony and tracksuit bottoms behind, when it hit me. The only way I can describe it is to say that it was like the whole world tilted on its axis and then came crashing down on me. It knocked the life and breath out of me and made me feel like I was falling down a black hole. I think I started to pass out; it was only the terror of falling into my daughter’s cot and sending her crashing to the concrete hospital floor that enabled me to hold onto the edge of reality and fight the urge to fall into the all-consuming and welcome darkness.

  This would be the first of many severe and debilitating panic attacks I endured over the next three years. The very strength of them left me feeling listless, disorientated and exhausted. Yet at the time, despite nearly passing out with panic as I wheeled my daughter to what should have been a happy experience, her first bath, no warning bells rang, no alarms were triggered. We were three days into parenthood, exhausted, bewildered and believing this was just all part of the course. How bloody lost were we?!