One of the main reasons I started my blog was as an outlet for me to express myself during my darker days of Post Natal Depression (PND). What I didn’t realise is, how many women were in the same boat as me but didn’t speak out about it openly – especially in the Asian community. I’d like to think as a community, we’ve moved forward with being more open and accepting of mental health issues but I know there is a long way to go and there is still a stigma attached to it.
Since I started sharing my journey, the blog has become a lot more meaningful than I ever could have imagined. I thought my darkest days had come and gone after I had Arjun and went through PND. What I didn’t realise was I had a whole lot worse coming my way.
When you fall pregnant, you have a perception of how things will pan out – you expect it to be just like those glossy magazines portray – an instant burst of joy, a natural high as you sniff the first whiff of your baby’s smell, the instant bond you feel as you hold them close and have skin to skin contact. All the firsts. All the magical moments. You imagine everything will be blissful.
You believe that anything that deviates from this immaculate picture is wrong and suddenly you’re consumed by a wave of guilt, panic, fear. You begin to believe there is something wrong with you, that you’re not bonding with your child.
For me, that was the beginning of a downward spiral – when my reality didn’t meet my expectations. When things didn’t quite go to plan. When my labour was a lot longer than expected, where I was unable to meet my baby till he was 5 hours old. Where I received an unexpected diagnosis.
For me, I didn’t feel that instant burst with Arjun. I was confused. With Saajan, I fell in love instantly – for all of 9 hours till we received his diagnosis, the comfort and warmth I felt was ripped from beneath my feet within seconds. My world turned full circle within 10 hours. The wave of sadness I experienced after my mind became clouded with misconceptions, as I grieved for the child I thought I was going to have, – nothing could ever have prepared me for.
Though I’ve come a long way, I still have sheer moments of devastation and sadness. I wonder if I’d still have these feelings if Saajan wasn’t diagnosed with Down Syndrome. I think deep down I know I can’t attribute all of what I experience to just his diagnosis. Though that has been life changing.
My blog isn’t only a forum for me, it’s a forum for others to also share their journeys. I’m always honoured when others ask to share their stories here as it means together we are able to help more and more people that are in the same boat that may feel the same way that we do.
On the internet, you’ll find quite a bit of information on PND, however, Post Natal Psychosis is almost unheard of in the Asian community. Raising awareness for such a serious illness is something I hope we can do by sharing the below story. To protect the identity of the author and her family, all names have been changed. We will call the lovely lady, Simran. I’ve been speaking to Simran and my heartbreaks when I hear all that she has been through.
The loneliness.
The fear.
The devastation
The guilt
The absence of information.
The unknown.
The lack of support from professionals – those who we trust our own and our children’s lives with.
Although I appreciate the NHS are stretched, I do believe that being in that field of work takes a special kind of person. Adopting an impersonal and robotic approach especially in exceptional circumstances can have devastating mental effects on the patient. Humanity costs nothing.
I was thankful for the support I received during my pregnancies but I also felt a huge void after receiving Saajan’s diagnosis – I was handed a leaflet – the first page told me my son had a 15% increased chance of developing leukaemia, and that was pretty much it for a few days. I was left to deal with things on my own though thankfully the midwives were very warm and comforting in their own way though they didn’t seem equipped to be able to answer my questions or to deal with me. I became obsessed with the horrible life I thought we were going to have. I convinced myself that my life was over. I didn’t want this life.
There is sometimes also a misconception that a c section is the easy way out, that you don’t have to go through labour – Simran demonstrates how it can leave you feeling paralysed and incapable of tasking care of your newborn – that combined with the hormonal roller-coaster can be a recipe for disaster. A c section is a serious operation and often women don’t get the choice. The aftermath of a c section can be damaging as was the case with me. I didn’t change Arjun’s nappy for two weeks – Preetam and my sisters did it before me, as I was unable to care for him immediately, my confidence was absolutely shattered and it left me feeling like a hopeless and incompetent mother. I couldn’t be alone with Arjun as I believed I wasn’t a good mother despite what others told me. I became my own worst enemy.
I am so grateful to God for giving me the opportunity of meeting so many amazing and strong women through the blog. Together, we stand stronger.
Thank you Simran for your bravery and for allowing us to be a part of your recovery journey. Always in our prayers!
If you are experiencing any of the symptoms described below, please reach out. Although Simran was let down in many ways before receiving the right help, I’d like to believe that this isn’t reflective of everyone in the profession.
If you’d like to help us raise awareness, please share this post wide and far and please have conversations with your family, friends, colleagues to create a more open environment for those suffering with mental illnesses to be able to talk – it could save a life.
Simran’s journey …
The day I found out I was pregnant; my husband and I were both ecstatic! For most it takes a while to get excited or prepared and to get over the shock but for us the planning started almost immediately. Discussions of maternity dates, nursery themes and making endless lists of things we needed.
12 weeks
12 weeks felt like a long time to wait for the first scan compared to our excitement and then the day finally came. The sonographer told us to watch the screen whilst she was faffing around looking for our baby and then within a few minutes there he was. Our faces both lit up whilst she had a slightly puzzling look on her face. She then congratulated us and showed us we were expecting twins.
I was expecting twins.
That was a curveball I definitely didn’t expect! The shock was evident on both our faces!
We informed our families of the news as soon as we got back home and they could not have been any happier. Everyone wanted to get involved with the planning and we were so lucky to have people offering to help straight away to ease the stress off us both.
I soon after met with a midwife whom I knew almost straight away wouldn’t be useful. Any questions I asked or concerns I had she responded with roundabout answers about how I should google it or speak to a consultant. For light conversation constantly talked about her own pregnancy, which was of no help to me. I couldn’t talk to her, so maybe the consultant would be the way to go and I had plenty of time I thought at this point.
20 weeks
My husband and I agreed we did not want to know the sex of the twins and wanted it to be a surprise. We were so excited to see our babies again and this time was hoping there would be no shock. We had our scan and both of our babies were healthy and everything looked perfect. I asked when I would be seeing the consultant as I was told all consultant appointments were aligned with my scans. Everyone I asked told me to wait for a letter even though I expressed I needed to see a consultant to answer the concerns I had about carrying twins! There was little help and I was told to wait.
25 weeks
After a month of nothing, I knew I had to be proactive as my concerns were growing and I couldn’t find anything to help me personally. I went in for my scan and demanded to see a consultant, it worked. The consultant came and begun by checking my blood test results from 6 weeks prior to the date which showed my HB levels to be critical. There was no communication about how this had been missed, had I not asked to see the consultant in the first place I dread to think of when it would have been detected.
My husband and I were not told any details about what this meant if anything the consultant continuously said to my husband in an accusatory tone he would have been “put in prison” for not looking after his wife in his country as if this was somehow something my husband should have known and detected. We were confused, uncomfortable, anxious and felt slightly threatened. The consultant did not answer my concerns or comfort me, instead he scared me and increased my anxiety.
29 weeks
I started to feel tightening pains in my stomach, not knowing if I was being absurd or not I ignored them thinking this is what it must feel like when two babies are moving inside of you. Until the pains became so strong I couldn’t ignore them any longer, I began to panic. From the research I had done, I knew it was likely that twins came early but surely not this early?!
I rung the hospital to let them know and they asked me to come in just to get checked. The consultant wanted to check my cervix but I asked him to wait for my husband so I felt comfortable.
Once my husband arrived, the consultant checked my cervix and we were informed in minutes, there was a high chance I would be going into labour. My husband kept asking him how sure he was but he said there was so definite answer but it was looking pretty likely. I was told I was not able to stay in the hospital and they would need to find a bed elsewhere for me and the twins. We were told it could be as near as the next town or as far as 100 miles. Luckily (the only thing that went in our favour) a hospital in the next town were able to have me. I received steroid injections to strengthen the twins’ lungs and was then transferred by ambulance.
I stayed in hospital for 5 days having various injections, around the clock monitoring and different drips, it was all a blur. I was then finally given the all clear to go home (at this point all I wanted was my own bed). I didn’t go into labour and everything was ok, it was scary that something like this could happen and I had no idea why or what I could do.
31 weeks
I had another growth scan to ensure everything was okay. The sonographer showed us the twins, did some measurements and asked us to take a seat in the waiting room. The same consultant that wanted to imprison my Husband informed us that;
One twin had stopped growing and my HB levels had dropped further.
I required a drip to increase my levels. When was this nightmare going to end? It kept getting worse and we couldn’t even think of the next step without being terrified. A series of scans were booked for everyday to check the placenta, the umbilical cord and monitoring the baby’s heartbeat. Followed by a growth scan in 2 weeks. We were finally making progress, something proactive was happening and we could understand the course of action.
I asked to discuss a birth plan, I wanted to mentally prepare myself and of course everyone always says it never goes to plan, the whole point is to have an idea and understand your options and what to expect to some extent. I had already experienced a scare, I wanted to know more! The consultant told me to wait. The midwife, at every single appointment I had told me to speak to a consultant. I was at a dead end!
33 weeks
My husband and I were exhausted, hardly any rest and the hospital became our second home. This was our last appointment before the growth scan in a couple of days. The sonographer asked me to get in lots of different positions so she was able to check the pressure on the umbilical cord. She then asked us to take a seat in the waiting room, we knew what this meant by now – bad news! A midwife told us I would need to stay at the hospital for monitoring as the pressure from the umbilical cord was too high for one of the twins and it was of concern.
My husband went home to collect my overnight bag whilst I was taken to the ward. I was confused as to what this meant but there was no one around to answer my questions, I was just being told where to go, tested on as if I had no feelings or position to have questions.
I stayed overnight, woke up in the morning and thought of what I had planned for the day had I not been stuck in hospital. I had planned to go to the cinema as a treat before I gave birth and to collect our pushchair from the store as I received the confirmation. Instead I finished my breakfast and waited for a consultant to talk to me. It was impersonal and routine, I watched the consultant walk in, no pleasantries, no communication. She placed her red Gucci bag on my bed and flicked through my notes. She looked up at my worried face and told me they would be delivering today and I needed a C-section as she did not want to put the babies through any more distress. I had questions, I asked her to talk me through the process before I had a chance to say anything further she said the midwife would explain, picked up her bag and left.
A C-section, babies arriving today. I rung my husband feeling absolutely lost for words and terrified hoping he could tell me there was a plan and he could do something to help. The uncertainty was overwhelming. Would they be ok? It was too early! What would happen? I pressed the buzzer hoping someone would come and answer my questions and comfort me. I resorted to Google as no one came, I did this for 6 hours until I was moved into a labour suite.
The procedure – 33 weeks
My husband and I met the anaesthetist who told me the midwife would come shortly and explain the whole procedure. We were taken in, no midwife came. I had an epidural and the procedure started. My husband sat to the right of me by my bed and a set of doors just behind him leading to another room. I didn’t feel much but then…
I heard a cry!
A nurse ran, with my baby. My baby was in her arms as she ran through the doors. What was happening? I asked my husband what had happened and if our baby was ok. My attention diverted, I could hear the surgeon “come on baby, come on please”. What was happening?
I heard another cry!
The same thing happened, a nurse ran with my baby. My twins. Were they both ok? What did I have? I asked the anethisist who said he could only find out once he was able to go. I asked if my husband was able to go and find out and he agreed.
My husband came back and told me we had two beautiful healthy baby boys who didn’t require help breathing but needed to be taken to neo-natal. I wanted to see them, to hold them and to make sure with my own arms that they were ok.
24 hours post – birth
I was stitched up and taken back to the ward, a room at the end of a long corridor. I felt alone, isolated and far from everything and especially my sons. My husband took photos but I wanted them with me and to hold them.
I was in pain now as the drugs started to lose their effect, I needed pain relief and an update on my sons, no one came. I pressed the buzzer for a long time. I’m not sure how I survived that night, emotionally drained and physically my body felt alien to me and yet I could feel pain.
8am
Two midwives came in to remove the catheter, I asked for pain relief as it had been almost 12 hours and it was tough. They didn’t come back.
9am
My husband arrived with a wheelchair to take me to see the boys, I couldn’t move because the pain was unbearable. He couldn’t believe I had not been given anything in 13 hours and demanded the midwife brought me pain relief, I was given a paracetamol and I asked the midwife to help me into the wheelchair. This midwife told me I needed to mobilise and she wasn’t going to help me, I begged for a little help, I wanted to move, I wanted to see the boys, I wanted to be out of that room but I couldn’t without being in pain. She said and I can remember this because I couldn’t believe how I was being treated…
“I have other patients who have their babies with them and need help, you are wasting my time”
I felt worthless. My husband stepped in and tried to help and she snapped at him saying “Make her do it herself”. I felt nauseous, dizzy and in pain but I did it eventually but I was so upset I couldn’t think of anything else. Was I really worthless? How was I going to look after my boys? I had failed already? Was I not fit to be a mum? This couldn’t be real, it was a nightmare and would I ever wake up?
In the evening, after some rest I was able to slowly get into the wheelchair and went to see the twins for the first time for an hour. The nurses in the unit kept talking to me about expressing milk and how I had to start it straight away. I fell in love with my babies from the moment I saw them but I couldn’t help the overwhelming feel of guilt. I had failed them. Why had it taken me over 24 hours to come and see them? Would they know who I was? Seeing all the tubes and machines made me feel worthless. Useless. I was a bad mum. I couldn’t provide for my babies when they needed me.
The following morning, a midwife told me I had to leave the hospital that day as they were discharging me. I told her I needed help expressing as no one had come to help and I was not able to move still so how would I come to see my babies? She told me there was nothing wrong with me and that I needed to get a pump and “get on with it”.
I managed to stay one more night and attempted to start expressing. All these thoughts and comments from the midwives began to echo in my head.
Going home
I left the hospital alone, long gone where my dreams of leaving with a baby or the twins and going to the Gurdwara straight away. I left with a breast pump and was alone. I was abandoning them and I felt like everyone knew. I walked along and could see people looking out for a baby/the twins.
The midwife’s voice followed me, she wouldn’t stop. She kept telling me I was a bad mum and the boys were better off without me. How was she following me? I looked around, she wasn’t there. Why was I hearing her? I felt someone behind me, I looked to my left. He was there, the consultant. I was confused. I stood there staring at him and told my husband he was there. He didn’t know what I was on about so I stayed quiet. I didn’t understand. Why did my husband not acknowledge him?
The next few weeks I spent constantly expressing. We would stay at the hospital from 9am – 9pm. I still felt no bond. I would sit next to the incubators crying just hoping I could have done something different. I would hold their hands constantly saying sorry over and over again. Her voice still echoed in my head. “You did this” was what I heard every time I entered.
Once the twins were home, the next few months were hell. I couldn’t tell anyone what I was experiencing, she told me they could all hear and see them but everyone wanted me to suffer. He would follow me wearing a black hoody, always looking down with a gun in one pocket and a knife in his right hand. Why was this happening? Why would no one tell them to leave me alone? Why was no one scared? I never understood but was still too afraid to say.
It all got too much. Everyone wanted to see the boys, I didn’t want anyone near them. She told me people wanted to visit to hurt them. I was afraid. I wanted to be alone.
Then came everyone’s unwanted advice. I would always complain I didn’t want people’s advice because they didn’t understand what was happening but I was told to just agree or ignore it. I couldn’t. Why was everyone undermining me? I wasn’t able to leave my babies for a moment without having someone constantly judging me. I lost myself. My family were confused. I was always chirpy and happy to help others. I wanted to stay in a room alone with no one around. I had to, she told me I had to. She told me she knew what was best for me.
We were in and out of hospital with various different problems with the twins and she told me it was me. When I touched them, I was hurting them. I was confused. Before I was the only person to protect them and then I was the one hurting them. I had to believe her. She told me I had to and if I didn’t, he would hurt the twins with his knife. I would shake in fear. I had to stay away from my babies to protect them.
First it was to stay away then she told me I could no longer be round. I had to go. I had to go to the bridge. The bridge that was a couple of miles away from our home, I had to go and jump. She told me if I didn’t, he would hurt the twins and I couldn’t let that happen.
I tried to reason with her, I tried speaking with my health visitor to explain I was struggling but could never explain the full extent. I tried with the GP but she told me I wasn’t allowed to tell them. I had no choice, I had to go. I wasn’t allowed out the house on my own at this point as my husband knew something wasn’t right. I had to ask him to take me, it was the only way. He told me it would all be ok but it wasn’t going to be ok. She was right, they all wanted to see me suffer and that’s why he wouldn’t take me.
I needed to go. No one would take me so there was only one way, to escape. I ran out the house, in the hope I would get there. My husband carried me home. I sobbed, why was he stopping me? I spoke with the crisis team on the phone after my mum made the referral, the man on the phone said they were going to help. Finally. Someone is going to help me and take me. I drew the map ready to give to them. I was ready with my shoes on stood by the window. The crisis team were called, I kept telling them we needed to go right away. They asked me a few questions and told me I had to go with them to a hospital. I was confused. I didn’t want to go to a hospital, I told them I needed to go to the bridge. Why were they not listening? I refused to go only for them to inform me I was to be sectioned as I was a risk to myself under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act. I had no choice, it was either that or the police taking me.
I stayed in hospital for 2 weeks until being granted leave. Things didn’t improve. Then the self-harm started. It was relief from the pain I was enduring. I couldn’t do anything. I was under constant watch. The house keys had been locked away, someone with me at all times.
I was taken back to the hospital after I tried to escape again. I stayed again for 2 weeks for the consultant to tell me I had a Borderline Personality Disorder. I was confused – they were trying to pin anything on me. This couldn’t be right.
I met with a psychiatrist from the perinatal team and spoke about the consultant who followed me and the midwife giving instructions. She referred me right away to the mother and baby unit. I didn’t want to go to another hospital to be diagnosed with something that was not right. She agreed I did not have a personality disorder.
The urge to go to the bridge was still strong. I left the house following an argument with my husband and went to my mums. When I left, she told me now was my chance to go to the bridge. I felt a sigh of relief knowing I was able to. My parents knew something was wrong. I went to a bridge close by but she told me I had to wait for people to leave and I was then able to jump. I could feel the tip of the knife poking my spine. I had to do this. My friend managed to find my location from my phone and phoned me to tell me to go to my car. I sat in the car telling her everything was fine and I had to do this, the man stood outside the car tapping the window with his knife. I had to do this.
I heard sirens, it was the police along with my parents. I couldn’t go to another hospital. I begged them to leave. I tried running towards the bridge but they caught me. I was taken to the crisis team who again gave me a tablet to calm me but they didn’t listen. Why was no one respecting my wishes?
A few days later, I was taken to the mother and baby unit with my twins. It felt strange. Following observations and meetings with consultants, I was diagnosed with Post-Partum Psychosis.
My journey hasn’t yet ended but I am on the road to recovery with the right treatment. I am undergoing EMDR along with medication. I wish I had the birth I dreamt of. I wish I was able to hold my babies straight away. I wish I felt that bond. I wish I spoke out earlier before everything escalated. It’s been difficult writing my story but my only wish now is that I will be able to help someone speak out when they need help.
