I woke up one night sweating, and frantically scoured the bed for my baby. I thought she was lost. I cried uncontrollably as I searched for her tiny form. That night gives me the chills even now — she is six years old today. She was right next to me and I didn’t even see her.
I’m 32 and a mother of two. When I had my first baby, I had no idea of what I was getting myself into. During my pregnancy, I had my heart set on a natural birth. I yearned for it. But I had to have an emergency C-section. As a result, I felt like I was a failure as a mother. After the surgery, I had the opportunity to see my baby only briefly. I was in the ICU and she was taken to the NICU. This gave us little chance to bond. I struggled to breastfeed her initially, as I was dealing with all the physical pain that comes with a C-section. I couldn’t even lift her on my own. She cried and I cried... I was a mess. I felt incapable of carrying out the huge responsibility I was entrusted with.
After five days of hospital stay, I took the baby home. Things got worse. I cried for no reason. Got upset for no reason. Spending hours with my baby in a room was overwhelming. I constantly struggled with the fear of not being able to take good care of her. I would keep checking on her every minute. One night, I suddenly woke up and grabbed a pillow next to me. I went back to sleep hugging it tight, thinking it was my baby and that she was safe with me. But in reality, she was fast asleep in the cradle. There are so many nights in which I’ve slept convinced something bad will happen to her.
I had my mother around and when I told her all this, she somehow didn’t understand. She told me she never went through any of this and pointed out that she too was a mother. This made me angrier. I snapped at people at the drop of a hat. I was not being myself.
Finally, I decided to meet my gynaecologist. To my relief, she put a name to my condition — post-partum depression (PPD). She told me that a lot of women go through it and that it could be dealt with support from my family. She told me that I might need medication if this continued and if I developed warning signs such as suicidal thoughts and intentions to harm the baby. She also counselled my husband and mother. Thankfully, they understood.
I then consciously worked towards feeling better. My mother and husband pitched in to take care of the baby and I started going on walks by myself for some sun and fresh air; I pumped milk so that I could step outside for a few hours. This gave me a lot of freedom, and I realised that being a new mother didn’t just mean staying cocooned in a room with the baby. I worked out a bit, went out for a meal or two. It also occurred to me that I took good care of myself during my pregnancy, but was ignoring my well-being once the baby was born. And so I took efforts to eat healthy. I incorporated a lot of vegetables into my diet; went back to sipping warm soups regularly.
I gradually started feeling better. By the end of three months, I was completely out of PPD. I knew exactly what to expect when I had my second baby, and luckily, didn’t have PPD the second time around. Looking back, I think the best thing I did for myself was seeking help. I urge other women to do that too — our recovery starts the moment we accept that we need help and talk to people around us.
(As told to Akila Kannadasan)
In this series, we will be featuring first-person accounts of people who have accepted, acknowledged and sought help for their mental health challenges
