Postnatal Depression. (The Boomerang Effect.)

It has been 2 years to the day.

Years which have flown by like an airborne crisp packet sailing turbulently past the maternity hospital window.

‘Look! Prawn cocktail!’ I pointed from the delivery bed, ankles up around my ears, unable to grasp the severity of what was about to happen, as drugged up as a dancing tramp, calling The Irish One by my ex boyfriends name, thinking this was the funniest thing I had ever done, and genuinely confused by his lack of mirth. ‘No I won’t push! Get me some crisps. Look!’

2 years to the day since my son landed blue, and extremely annoyed and more than likely freezing and certainly confused, on to my empty bump in the cold, clinical delivery suite and grabbed hold of my finger in fear.

Look after me, he asked as I looked down at him in shock, the tears streaming down my face.

Protect me.

2 years to the day.

2 years of watching my son grow from a smooshy headed donut in to an inquisitive little creature that has no qualms about eating a spider.

And oh how I love him, with his head full of dreams and his belly full of hoops.

Sometimes I feel my heart could tear open and weep out the love.

Sometimes I wish love was a cure. 

2 beautiful years, the memories of which should ensure nothing but breath catching happiness, which are instead filled with silent tears and venom filled thoughts, with heartbreak and hate, with stolen kisses and watery smiles and eventually with love and quiet.

It is the quiet that I long for the most.

2 years, gone in a heartbeat, 2 years vanished like a deleted text, floating around in the ether.

It is the lost days that I crave to erase.

I yearn to rip them from the pages of my life story, to remove all evidence they ever happened, they ever existed.

The moments that I would beg to feel the love, let me feel anything, the times when the illness had eaten at my brain and I felt nothing.

A bottomless, airtight hole filled with… nothing positive.

Long spidery days splayed out in front of me like witch fingers, clutching me around the neck.

Hours filled with self hatred, wasted lost moments of self indulgent guilt and angry pointless self punishment while my son innocently played in front of me, his eyes questioning my emotionless warmth.

Numbness so acute, I could misplace a month without realisation.

An eternity in 12 hours, like a heavy suitcase filled with broken dreams being dragged behind me.

A sword through the heart that I am unable to fulfil my promise of protection, too exhausted from an invisible battle.

But I crossed the finish line, I raised my arms in the air and sailed through it, exhausted and out of breath but elated.

I made it.

I tentatively reached out

I grabbed hold of the light and I hugged it close to me unable to believe it was real.

I got cocky.

I was discharged.

I was proud.

I felt better.

I had conquered the demons.

I was living, really living, and loving.

I could play, finally I could play.

I could feel.

And then I woke up.

Now I am angry, and sad, and disappointed and panicked.

I didn’t win.

Once again I am broken.

Unable to connect.

I woke up happy, and sang Happy Birthday and from nowhere I was blind sided.

In an instant the light was extinguished.

My tears stinging like hot acid.

My fragile contentment, once again trampled on.

Doodle, my beautiful black dog, climbs on my knee and rests his head on my shattered heart.

He knows.

A car on the motorway, upside down, resting on the embankment

They know.

A dead bird, its beak smashed in, lying silently in front of a window.

It knows.

It is the quiet I long for.

I wish love was a cure.

Because the love I know is buried once again, could conquer all.

If I could just keep hold of it.

The fight goes on.


16 Comments on “Postnatal Depression. (The Boomerang Effect.)

  1. My sweet, I just found your blog, and just wanted to say that I have had babies with and without depression, longing with every fibre of your being can be normal. When people ask me what makes a great Mum I say “walking back in the house, even when your soul is screaming at you to go anywhere else” and some people don’t get it, but most do, there are such moments of joy in parenthood, but large LARGE parts of it are about steady commitment to routines that kids will rail against, you are doing so well, I know that at the first sign that the depression maybe coming back you will panic, but sit with it for a moment (when you can) and see if what you are feeling is not a justifiable discontent with food all over the floor or whatever, because those feelings are normal. Congratulations on a wonderful blog and a wonderful family X

  2. You are an amazing writer. I have also suffered from the missing days of depression. I have had three children and three times been unwell. Its not fair is it ?

  3. It’s the longest battle I’ve ever fought. Let’s get to the finish, shall we? Happy Birthday to the little one.

  4. I hear you. The nothing sucks more than anything we have ever fought against and setbacks sometimes break out hearts more than before we learned how to fight. But you ARE fighting and, even on these dark days, you write beautiful insightful words to the rest of us. You will win. Of that I am sure. xx

  5. Sweetheart, you are a strong beautiful woman with a handsome little boy who loves and needs you.
    I was recently sent this in an e-mail and I want to share it with you:

    ❤ Dearest ❤

    You don't give yourself enough credit. You know that, right? I see you doing brave, courageous things constantly. Beautiful acts of pure love streaming direct from your heart. Expressions of your soul made manifest and shared with the world.
    And yet, if I were to ask you if you were a brave woman, a strong woman, a bold woman, you'd dip your head, avert your gaze and shyly smile. "No, not me," you'd say. "Not really."
    But I see you taking steps outside your comfort zone all the time. All the time, my lovely. Sometimes they're just baby steps. Like when you smiled at that stranger. Or you tried the restaurant's 'special'.
    And sometimes they're a bit bigger. When you took that trip on the spur of the moment, for example. Or when you joined that women's circle even although you didn't know anyone who would be there.
    Sometimes your bravery even shocks you! Like when you went for that audition. Led that workshop. Contacted that person who you always thought was too big, too important to have the time or the inclination to speak to you.
    I'm asking that you take some time to recognise, appreciate, honour and celebrate your bravery. And to recognise that the baby steps were what led to the bigger steps, the shocking steps.
    With each step you expand your world. You see that, yes? Your world becomes bigger and brighter when you live courageously. It becomes a more beautiful place ripe with all the most amazing opportunities that once upon a time were only dreams, figments of hope, tendrils of desire.
    Rejoice in each brave step, my darling, because you deserve that joy. Truly.
    Sending you so much love and the BIGGEST hugs I can across the internet.

  6. You ARE winning. Every day survived is a win, whether it’s heartbreakingly shit or filled with love and smiles. You have battled your way through so much and that strength means that you will keep on keeping on until there are no battles left.
    Two years, two whole years. A little boys lifetime, and you’re there, being the best mummy that you can be day by day. Two years that you won’t have to fight through again.
    The hardest thing is when what should be the happiest moments turn into the worst. It’s normal to feel smacked in the face by it all when your are presented with a marked reminder of how it began, how it has been and for how long.
    Tomorrow is another day and the love will never, ever run out. Be kind to yourself. Shout me if you need to x

  7. Sorry, I don’t really know what to say, except that you write beautifully and that you really struck a chord with me. I am so sorry you are in a bad place…such a lonely place to be. Keep writing. Sending you hugs and strength xxx

  8. Beautifully written, as always. This sums up my current experiences perfectly I just wish I could get others to understand it. I shall be printing this and giving to the ones in my life who struggle to understand depression. Thank you. I truly feel less alone right now. Xx

  9. I’m sorry you’re in a dark place again Lexy. I have no experience or words of wisdom to offer, just a wispy trail of support through cyberspace, to know that someone is thinking of you.

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