Love & perinatal depression
Today is my daughter's first birthday. I can't remember the last time I woke up this excited. We rumbled on the bed with the dog; Lily then called for truce by placing her dummy in my mouth! It wasn't always like this, though. After Lilybet was born, I found it woefully difficult to love my babe as I felt I should. Postnatal depression mixed with my pre-existing anxiety and depression issues, and I struggled to connect with Lily and show her the love she deserved. I didn't realise men could experience postnatal depression. I knew I had a history of clinical depression, but I thought it was only women who suffered from perinatal depression. To be honest, I felt embarrassed when the Ryde Community Mental Health team made an appointment for Claire and I to meet with a perinatal specialist. It turned out to be a vital step in comprehending and working through my depression and anxiety. Child birth is a significant and life-altering experience for women and men. Needing professional assistance to navigate this stage in life is normal and acceptable.
What follows is my lived experience with postnatal depression, anxiety (around childbirth), my road to recovery and the assistance I received.
Happy first birthday, Lilybet.
Lily and I cheering on the South Sydney Rabbitohs.
I felt at peace watching the rugby league with my bubba and wife last night. Experiencing this wave of comfort felt serene, but it also made me think back to August last year.
Lilybet was born just after 9:00pm on the 16th of August 2017. I’ll never forget that initial explosion of joy. Lilybet Eleanor Wood was healthy and our remarkable midwife, who had become something of a counsellor leading up to August 16, and who stayed with us from midday through to two the next morning, told me to “rest”. Up until that point I had been Claire's (and the midwife’s) right-hand man; hopping in and out of the water birthing tub, massaging, providing water and food, even putting on Beethoven’s piano sonata #8.
“You can go and bring the car over,” the midwife said as I yanked my slumped body out of the chair. It was approaching 2:30 in the morning. I recall shivering in the dead of night as I soldiered to the carpark, thinking about how to work the baby carseat. Once Lilybet was safely strapped in, we headed home.
Almost immediately after I laid my head down and stared at the crack in the bedroom ceiling I felt anxiety wash over me. It was as if a spider slowly crept up my spine, along my neck and then slipped in through my ear.
How can we look after this baby? We don’t have the money. I don’t even have a job! What kind of new father doesn’t have a job? How could someone with Generalised Anxiety Disorder raise a baby? Will she be susceptible to my anxiety and depression? What if she already has it?
Lilybet Eleanor Wood - 17/8/2017 (one day old).
In a week’s time, I was a patient in a mental health ward. I had slept a total of three hours over a four day period. My mind had plunged into the abyss, and I had convinced myself that I would plague poor Lilybet.
The hospital may have removed me physically from places and situations where my anxiety and depression set in and played out, but it did nothing to assist the internal agony. In fact, the harsh surroundings and inability to leave the ward and see my wife and baby made matters worse. This was not what I had pictured when I slumped into Emergency with Claire and Lilybet. I had wanted to go somewhere where I could rest with my family.
When I eventually left the hospital, I was told that we would be staying with my parents for the foreseeable future.
Who was I to argue?
For the next fortnight, my days consisted of waking up groggy from the medication I was ordered to take and meeting with the community mental health team who were charged with visiting, assessing my wellbeing and assisting my family. After these meetings, I’d sit on the couch in the living room and stare out at the bush. That was the extent of my days.
Something that worried my mother and wife was that I wasn’t engaging with Lilybet. It was as if my body would go limp when she entered the room. My eyes would dart to her, I would think about how I'm not capable of loving or looking after her, and then my eyes would retreat back to the bush. Claire has a photo of Lily laying next to me when she was only a few weeks old. I look pale and emotionless, spaced out to some distant dimension. That’s how I coped. My mind sailed off to the bush where it would sit and wait for the sun to go down so that I could take another sleeping pill.
There was no baby spam on social media in those days. We were clawing just to make it from one day to the next. My parents worked wonders to care for Claire and Lilybet, assuming the role that I was meant to be performing.
I wish I could say that there was a moment where everything clicked into gear, followed by the cliche montage scene in the underdog movie where the protagonist makes his comeback. Truth is my health returned at a very slow rate. There were times when I could hear Claire bemoaning our situation in the next room.
A significant step forward was made, however, when Claire brought a notebook and asked me to journal my thoughts in the form of a letter. This task was made easier when my sleeping pills were switched, and I was able to wake up and not feel like a hummingbird had taken up residence in my skull.
Claire,
I am sorry. I cannot imagine the toll this has taken on you. There are times when I see you with Lily and I want to be happy. Words form in my mind and then disappear when I dare to open my mouth. I want to believe there will be a day, a weekend when we will take a drive somewhere as a family - you, Lily, Otto and myself - and get away from the bustle of Sydney. It feels like an impossibility on my end, but the thought is there. Buried deep within my soul.
My greatest fear is that Lilybet will end up like me. It makes me want to remove myself from the picture. If she does not witness it, then maybe she won’t emulate it. I know this is not what you want. I do hear you when you speak to me. Your words stick to the walls of my mind.
I love you both.
Cam
Writing to Claire helped the healing process. Here was a way for me to tell Claire that I haven’t abandoned her and Lily. The writing would often take hours, yet each day I would attempt to write. It was out of this that Claire and I began to discuss things verbally. After weeks of the anxiety and depression force-feeding me lines about my inability to look after, love and be a father to Lilybet, there was finally a contrary voice.
The next step came when Claire and I would talk with Lily in the room. I wasn’t up to holding Lily, my hands would tremble uncontrollably, but I could look at her. I'd spend hours watching Lily sleep. Her waking cries of discomfort scrambled my thoughts and sent my pulse into overdrive, but I was able to stay in the room.
Claire and Lilybet. I love being able to watch and photograph them together.
I can still remember the spring day Claire, Lily and I walked through Boronia Park, up to a cafe on Pittwater Road. Sure - we walked at a sloth’s pace, I probably didn't mutter ten words, but it felt surreal. It had been months since we had enjoyed a walk and coffee together.
When summer rolled around, in December, I was offered a job. It had been five months since I had worked full-time, and finding a suitable job was difficult. At first, work felt like climbing Everest with a four-month-old strapped to your back. Sleeping pills tried mightily to numb Lily’s cries of distress. But Claire and I made it work. In fact, in the new year, we were in a position to move out of my parents’.
This takes us to the footy match in the photo above. Lily has become the apple of my eye; she is a joyous babe. Strangers often stop us when we are out walking to tell us how “happy” she looks. To hear this and see Lily’s toothy grin means the world to me. What I'm most appreciative of today is that I no longer worry if I'll be able to love Lily enough or if she will possess my mental health issues.
If you know someone struggling with perinatal depression, please reach out and offer assistance. There is a wealth of resources available for women and men: healthyfamilies.beyondblue.org.au/pregnancy-and-new-parents/maternal-mental-health-and-wellbeing/depression.
The Ryde Community Mental Health team was also helpful. I’d meet with a considerate psychiatrist, a perinatal specialist, and the nurses and carers would graciously visit and call. This support network was invaluable and assisted in my recovery. Community mental health services are free, available across Australia and range from acute care teams to home care and youth mental health teams: healthdirect.gov.au/community-mental-health-services
Sources:
- Perinatal Anxiety & Depression Australia (PANDA): www.panda.org.au
- St John of God Burwood Hospital, 'Perinatal mental health': www.sjog.org.au/our-locations/st-john-of-god-burwood-hospital/our-services
- Health Direct, 'Community mental health services': www.healthdirect.gov.au/community-mental-health-services
- Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 'Mental health services in Australia': www.aihw.gov.au/reports/mental-health-services/mental-health-services-in-australia/report-contents/community-mental-health-care-services
