If I could go back and do it again, I would be a stronger advocate for my mental health. You cannot expect to look after your baby, or anyone for that matter, if you are running on empty. I'm forever grateful for the Psychiatric Liaison Team who helped me, they inspired me to change my career path and work in mental health - where I currently am, and I'm thriving!
Once my mental health was improving, I felt I was able to start enjoying my pregnancy. Although, one thing I noticed was the lack of 'connection' to this little creature that was kicking my ribcage. I see a lot of people talking to their stomachs and proclaiming their undying love for their child who wasn't even born yet. I couldn't find this bond during pregnancy, and I really struggled to envisage a real-life baby in my arms. I think it's important to realise that many moms feel this way, and it should be normalised. I felt guilty and that perhaps there was something wrong with me, but ultimately the only thing I could focus on was the ever-growing list of changes my body was going through.
I am a negative blood type. This can cause some complexities during pregnancy because if my baby is positive and our blood types come in contact, my body could start to reject the baby to protect myself from Rhesus disease. Thanks to modern medicine, there is a simple injection offered to mothers with a negative blood type to avoid this happening. However, this injection is given whenever there is any bleeding throughout the pregnancy and unfortunately, I experienced quite a lot of sporadic bleeding and spotting. At 30 weeks pregnant, I went for a check-up due to another bleed and after many hours of cervical checks and waiting, a consultant took a final look at my cervix and referred me for an urgent colposcopy. Now, I'm not sure if you know what a healthy cervix looks like, but on the screen in front of me during my examination, all I could see was a cervix full of lumps. It didn't quite dawn on me until the Consultant took me into the office afterwards and mentioned the dreaded 'C' word - cancer. He said the biopsy would be sent off for urgent testing and advised me to bring my husband to the results appointment. He declared my pregnancy as 'high-risk' and said I was told I absolutely couldn't have the water birth I was hoping for, due to excessive bleeding from the lumps. This added a whole new level of fear, and my thoughts began to spiral. Would I be around for my baby? Would I have to go through chemotherapy? How do I tell my family? Will my baby be ok? The week that followed was a blur as I waited with bated breath to hear the results. When the results came in, I cannot begin to explain the relief I felt when I heard the word 'benign'. I would never wish this stress on anyone, and I am acutely aware that cancer touches so many lives today. I am extremely lucky.
I attended antenatal classes in the months before giving birth, which was instrumental in informing me of all things birth and baby related. Three and a half years later we are also still friends with all 12 parents in our group! They are a massive support. When the day finally came, my waters broke, and I ended up being induced which progressed very quickly - my labour was five hours overall which is pretty short considering it was my first! An hour into the labour I was BEGGING for an epidural, however, the anaesthetist wasn't available, and I received no pain relief. This was pretty traumatic in the moment, although it seems a distant memory now.
Becoming a new parent is pretty terrifying, and the connection to my baby didn't come until about four weeks postpartum (again, I think this should be normalised and spoken about). When I was six weeks postpartum and just feeling ready to get out of the house, the global pandemic was declared and all expectations I had of my maternity leave were ripped away. I feel as if I was robbed of my maternity leave, and this still affects me today - the stress of my husband being Furloughed and made redundant while I was on statutory maternity pay; the constant worry that my baby might not get medical attention if he needs it; the pure fear of an unknown virus; anxiety over shortages of formula and medicine. Thinking back on that time, I am grateful my husband was able to be at home to watch our child grow up and wasn't rushed back to work, this is what I try to remember when I am feeling robbed of a precious time I will never get back.
My child recently turned three and I still feel like I'm winging it most of the time!"
After a recent particularly challenging day her son and her mental health, Emma wrote this poem that she'd like to share:
Why didn't anyone tell me?
He's crying and needs a hug again
I've heard 50 tantrums today
But I need to cook dinner and do the dishes
Who knew mom guilt would feel this way
It's been a long day at work and now this
Everything today he's disagreed with
From getting dressed to the colour of his plate
How could anyone solve this myth?
I notice how I'm keeping calm
And remind myself to just breathe
But then the 51st tantrum comes
And I explode like you wouldn't believe
I lose my cool, I lose my patience
My mood is like night and day
I needed to remove myself
So I locked myself away
And through the door, all I can hear
Is ���mummy mummy mummy���
After it all, he still wants and needs me
And I feel a pit at the base of my tummy
What if me taking a quiet moment
Does more emotional damage than good?
But then what if my emotional tsunami
Is confusing and misunderstood?
Why didn't anyone tell me
That motherhood is guesswork most of the time?
I am so afraid of making things worse
And I have no idea how to cross that line
That line between struggling and savouring
How does that saying go?
���The days are long but the years are short���
They'll never stay small and they'll grow
The truth is that life is hard
Even the best of us would agree
So for now I guess all I can do
Is take as many of those cuddles on my knee
