Postnatal Depression: A Lived Experience

*Based on my Lived Experience Learnings*

“Just knowing what the postnatal depression signs are, before having a baby, means nothing. The fact is, when you have a baby, you completely lose yourself.” (From my own lived experience, that is.)

It’s Perinatal Mental Health Week. And I am a huge, huge advocate for sharing the realities of parenthood, motherhood, all the hoods. Completely honest and open here, because in order for us to make a difference in postnatal depression, in perinatal mental health, we need to start sharing lived experience stories and honest realities of life. Because in order to support the next generation, to support ourselves and our own generation, we need to paint the real picture of life.

And life is up and down. It’s a roller coaster. It’ll always be a roller coaster. So if we can better equip our children and ourselves and the upcoming parents of the world, if we can equip them by painting the reality of what it’s like – and it’s not about being negative, it’s just reality.

The post I found from September 2019

Today I stumbled across a post I wrote when I was deep in new-parent life with baby number two. And oh man, I’m so glad I wrote this because it was real. It was so real. I’m going to read it out to you.

Keeping it real. This week has been fucking hard. Do I, don’t I post? What value are you even adding, Lou? People don’t want to hear the rant about how fucking hard it’s been. But what runs through my head is the respect I have for all those single parents out there. The FIFO mums, the ones with very little or no support. Like fuck me, give me your tips.

The other thing is all the fake, “I have my shit together” accounts and posts, which give a false sense to new parents about how you should be and how you should feel.

Well, I’m going to paint a picture called reality. I want to send a message to the new mums and dads, to show that you do not have to conform to the stigma that is so strongly attached to parenthood and sprayed all over social media.

This week I’ve cried a lot. I haven’t been able to find 30 every day. I haven’t been able to leave the house much apart from getting a drive-through coffee two times a day so that I can get through. I haven’t been able to do anything for myself, the stuff that lights me up. I get to 3:00pm and realise I haven’t even fucking eaten anything. I’ve gone through at least three boxes of wipes (sorry environment), wiping off snot, shit and vomit from every part of the house.

I’ve cried some more. We haven’t slept more than four hours a night. I think I’ve changed the beds eight times, done at least three loads of washing a day, watched my two-and-a-half-year-old scream at the window for hours asking for daddy (because obviously he’s the fun one at the moment, and I can’t really hold two crying kids).

My back aches from holding a clinging, nine-kilo, seven-month-old for hours. Hubby’s been working like a dog through the virus, coming home and joining me in the shit-fight at home. The relentlessness of dishes, packing and unpacking toys, picking up shit constantly. I think you get the picture.

So yeah, just having a rant. I know there are ups and downs. I know we will all get through it. I know people have it worse off. I know all the things. I know. I just want to show up as an authentic mum, an honest mum, to send a message to all the mums and dads who may have been thinking they aren’t doing a good job, or aren’t coping, or are comparing themselves to the stigma-shit, or just need to know they aren’t alone. I’m sharing this to say: this is parenthood. And sometimes it really fucking sucks.

It is really fucking hard. But god damn, you get really good at coping in whatever that looks like for you. So if you’re drinking 18 coffees a day, crying uncontrollably, drinking bulk wine, kids having screen time, whatever it is that you need to do, fucking do it. And we are here right beside you.

– written September 2019

Looking back at my postnatal depression and anxiety

God, that really fucking hits home, doesn’t it?

And so I think with postnatal depression, with postnatal anxiety, with the mental health struggles that come with parenthood – whether it’s your first baby, second baby, third baby, fourth baby – it doesn’t matter. Because every single time is different.

You’ve got a whole new environment with more people, with more emotions, with more needs needing to be met. And a lot of the time as a mum or a dad, as a parent, we are looking after everyone. We are getting all our shit drained out of us. And it’s just like – who’s looking after that mum? Who’s looking after her?

What I’ve learnt is that as mums, as a community of mums, as a society, we need to look after each other. And do you know how we can do that the best?

By sharing the real shit. By sharing it. When someone says “how are you going?”, not masking it up and saying “Oh yeah, I’m okay.”

What I’ve learnt is that by getting vulnerable, by sharing the vulnerabilities about parenthood and about my mental illnesses, that saved people’s lives because they feel less alone.

It gives them permission to be like, oh fuck, okay. We can say that we’re struggling. Of course you’re struggling.

Struggling isn’t a bad word. It’s not a negative thing. But because we’ve been brought up in a world and a society shaped by generational impacts, we’ve attached “struggling” to “failing”.

If you’re struggling, you fucking don’t have your shit together – that’s the lie.

I want you to know: nobody’s got their shit together.

It is hard. It is so hard. And things being hard isn’t a bad thing.

What we need to learn and realise is that together, by sharing the truths, by sharing realities, we can support each other. We can help each other by being fucking honest.

The fact is, there is not one same point-by-point experience in any motherhood journey. That’s an important reminder.

3 lessons I learnt through postnatal depression and anxiety

1. Share the real shit. As mums, as a community, as a society, we need to look after each other. The way we do that best is by sharing the real feelings – the good, the bad, the ugly. When someone says “how are you going?”, actually open up. Vulnerability doesn’t kill people. It saves them.

2. Get vulnerable to build connection. Getting vulnerable creates stronger, more authentic connections. It creates space to support each other. It reduces judgement and the amount of fucks you give. It helps mums feel less alone – and that shit is powerful.

3. Ask better questions, from a better place. Ask questions from genuine education, from genuine interest. Not to put yourself down. Not to validate. Because every single one of us is different. Get honest about your intention behind the question.

Where to start when you’re in it

Be kind to yourself. Start sharing your truth – to help yourself and to help break the cycle of increasing postnatal depression and anxiety.

If this resonated, or you’ve got questions, I want to hear from you. Send me a DM over on Instagram or drop me an email. My DMs are always open.

If you want to go deeper than a DM and chat properly about what’s going on, you can book a free 20-min chat. No pressure. No pitch. Just a real conversation.