My account of PND
by Tina

I had waited seven long years for my son to be born. During the pregnancy I had several "bleeds", each time this happened you kind of prepared yourself for the worst, but scans and regular check ups gave me the reassurance that my baby was growing and developing normally. I had given up my work as it was physically demanding and I was able to rest and take things easy. My husband was very understanding and supportive and I had no financial worries. My time and the bursts of energy I had were spent decorating the baby's nursery, shopping and preparing for a new arrival.

I had decided that the birth was going to be as natural as could be - as it turned out I had everything that was going!!

My son was born after a long labour. He was five week early and had to be taken to the special care baby unit. I returned to the main ward where all the other mums had their babies. Then after a couple of days I was moved to the ward where the ladies were awaiting imminent arrival of their "bumps". Every three to four hours I would express my milk and go to see my son in SCBU, the staff in there were absolutly brilliant, and could not be faulted. You had this wonderful feeling of being so safe and they taught you to have this confidence with your baby.

After two weeks in hospital, the two of us came home. The feelings that I got when I came home were not those of excitement, but of absolute fear. I had no one to ask what to do and no one to tell me what to do. Was he getting enough to drink, would I know if something was wrong, could I trust myself to look after him.

I had convinced myself that something terrible was going to happen, and that my much loved baby would be taken away from me. I didn't sleep properly, I would be awake most of the night making sure that my son was still breathing, and just watching him sleeping. This all took its toll and with a very heavy heart I went on anti-depressants. My GP told me to give them a week or sdo to start working, when realistically they can take up to five weeks. Things went from bad to worse and I had to go into the hospital. I remember just wanting to be able to talk to somebody who had felt the way that I was feeling and to be able to tell me that I would get better. There was nobody to sympathise with me.

After a good nights sleep, I felt like a different person and I would come home on pass, or my husband would take my son in, and we would spend the day together. I never looked back after my short stay in hospital, and after a couple of months on the medication, things were back to normal - my husband had his wife back, my son had his mother back, and I had ME back.