You can Roll your Eyes now.
I’ve been lurking on a lot of PND blogs recently.
Blogs written by new mums who are finding their PND feet.
Some of the writing is as beautiful as it is harrowing.
It has brought back many memories.
I expected to feel relieved, as I continued to read, relieved I had overcome it.
Instead I began to feel an underlying uneasiness.
Because I quite clearly don’t have PND anymore do I?
I mean, how can I?
My son is 4.
And time has moved on way further than ‘post’ baby anything.
I was hospitalised, I fought, I battled, and I soldiered on in cold therapy rooms while somewhere 3 miles away my son was playing outside in the sunshine with his daddy.
I swallowed hard truths, and lay sobbing in a lonely room, on a busy mental ward, while my son took his first steps.
I writhed in emotional pain as I slowly accepted that not everything was my fault.
I relented and with a huge amount of reluctance filled my body and brain with medication.
I emerged from the wreckage stronger than ever, with one goal in mind.
Accept his love.
Everything I was and everything I lived for, was ploughed in to making up for the time I felt I had lost with him.
We became best friends, partners in crime, he was my reason for living.
I learned patience and trust, understanding and forgiveness, I learned what unconditional truly meant, and I didn’t run.
I didn’t emotionally switch off no matter how hard I wanted to.
In return I was gifted with more love and tenderness than I ever thought it was possible to feel.
As long as I was with Addison I would be fine.
I had a purpose.
Yeah I still had dark days, numb days and days when I couldn’t get out of bed.
But they didn’t count really did they?
As long as I was with Addy I was fine,
So I beat it right?
In the early days, the numbness, the lack of love, the care, the overwhelming need to give up and the apathy was easily categorised.
I had just had a baby, my brains and emotions were splattered all over the walls.
It was explainable.
‘You have Post Natal Depression.’
I needed help and was lucky enough to receive it.
But what about now?
My son is 4 and my heart hurts.
I’m experiencing a lot of similar emotions to way back then.
I feel selfish again, unnecessary, worthless, numb, not good enough….
And you know what’s caused it?
Ok you can roll your eyes now…
‘What was your favourite moment of 2014?’ my best friend asked me on New Year’s Eve.
I honestly couldn’t think of one.
The year is too foggy with loss.
She reminded me of October half term and I agreed, we had had a great half term.
It was just the two of us again, on adventures.
‘And your worst?’
That was easy.
‘Walking away after dropping Addy off at school for the first time.’
‘Ah but he loves it.’
And this is the stock response I always get, and you know what?
They are right. He does.
And I love that he loves it.
But I could quite honestly describe it as one of the most heart-breaking moments of my post natal life.
Because in that moment I realised what true love was.
And that I had accepted it.
I was so excited for him and yet felt so unbelievably lost.
It hit me on the walk back to the car, alone for the first time in 3 and a half years, how much I had loved, and enjoyed and delighted in every one of those 1274 days.
And as I drove through Starbucks, crying so hard at now not having to buy a lollipop with my coffee, the child seat empty, at not having his hand in mine, I wondered at what point it stops being so hard.
I accepted love, I won – so why do I feel like I’m grieving?
It shouldn’t be this hard.
I’m happy he’s happy in school, I really am.
I want the world for him.
And as he pulls away, my default is creeping back in.
Reject before rejected.
It shouldn’t have been that hard when he first started.
And it still shouldn’t be.
This is more than a broken heart and a bit of sadness at missing him.
Did I never beat PND?
I fought it hard, but did it never really leave?
Is it back?
At what point does it stop being temporary?
Is now the time to accept it probably is clinical depression and there will never be a consistent light at the end of the tunnel?
I was told I could beat it with love.
And love just isn’t enough.
And because of that thought, I need to lie down.
Because I am tired of it being this hard.
And I am tired of feeling this selfish.