Share
24th July 2016
05:00pm BST
I can't fully pinpoint the moment these feelings changed from excitement to numbness; it was a slow, gradual change over time. But as the pregnancy progressed, friends and family regularly asked about movements, chatting about how beautiful it was to grow a baby, and I always laughed it off and joked about the movements making me nauseous, shrugging off the beautiful comments. To me it wasn't amazing, it wasn't enjoyable, it wasn't exciting, and I couldn't understand why. I never felt this love or bond with the baby most pregnant women were talking about. Sure I loved the look of being pregnant, baby bumps have always looked beautiful to me, but that's all the happiness I felt about it. I started coming home from work, getting into the bath and staying there for as long as possible until my husband came home and make dinner. Before pregnancy, I was always active, but now I found myself just wanting to lie down. The bath was the perfect excuse. I was never hungry. I found myself waiting for the 'eating for two' hunger to kick in, instead I ate because my husband had cooked, and baby needed fuel. In the evening, I would lie on the couch for hours, and my husband would have to drag me to bed because I didn't have the energy or desire to move. Then one day, I got chatting to another pregnant woman, she was so excited to meet her baby, and I said, "Oh, I know, I can't wait for the pregnancy to be over and done with." She told me how she loved being pregnant and couldn't wait to be a mum – that's normally when I used to put on my fake smile and pretend to feel the same – but a gut reaction kicked in, I retorted, "Ugh, but then you have a baby there annoying you." She gave me that look that summed it up; I was not a good mum. That's when I spoke to my husband about my feelings. I explained how numb I felt for the baby, how I wasn't excited to meet her, for our future, I basically felt nothing. Of course opening up about my feelings kick-started a meltdown, the guilt was overwhelming.A baby's most basic need, after food and shelter, is love, and I couldn't give her that.
I felt guilty for being an awful wife, not looking after myself, not doing my fair share around the house, never cooking for him, and not being able to show him the love he deserves. I felt guilty for my family, this one I can't even explain fully, but I felt that I was letting them all down, I grew up surrounded by the love of my family, confident in the knowledge they were always there for me, but I hadn't been there for them, and I couldn't share that same love and security with my own daughter. I am very lucky to have joined a pregnancy facebook group early in my pregnancy with women from all over the world that I could share my pregnancy news and updates with. One of the girls in the group announced one day that she had been diagnosed with prenatal depression. I had never even heard of it. I mean, we all hear about postnatal depression, but this was news to me. When I realised I was feeling similar to this girl, I decided to look it up. Then it hit me, I had prenatal depression. And to add to this, it meant I was at a higher risk of getting postnatal depression, things would only get worse, not better, especially if I kept brushing it off and putting it down to hormones. I promised my husband I would talk to either my doctor or my midwife at my next appointment. But they never asked the basic how are you feeling question. I couldn't just open up with, "Soooo, I don't love my child, and I'm not even sure I want to be a mum?" Eventually, I opened up to the girl in my Facebook group, and they suggested I write it down. So here I was, letter in my hand going into my GP's office, convinced he'd just sit there judging me. He read the letter, thankfully didn't push me to talk about it much, and he called the mental health clinic in Holles Street. The next day I got my appointment for a week later, I felt so anxious but also relieved to know he took me seriously. The appointment was tough, but the doctor was amazing. She fully understood and never once judged me. She placed me on antidepressants which was something I was initially concerned about, as much as I felt nothing for my baby, I didn't want to do anything that could risk harming her. The doctor reassured me about any risks and felt it was something that would really help. The moment I walked out of there I finally started to feel something other than guilt, a feeling of happiness and proudness crept in. Taking that step to get help was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, admitting to feelings I was so ashamed of. I have been so lucky, I have married an amazing man who supported me the whole way through, he took good care of me when I was at my lowest, was there to listen when I finally felt ready to talk and reassured me that things would get better once I got help. A few weeks after I started antidepressants I was chatting about Christmas with a friend and I thought, "Oh, I'll have a baby at Christmas." And there it was... I was excited. I couldn't believe it. Ever since then the feelings have drifted in, and at almost 38 weeks pregnant, a month after my appointment with the mental health clinic, I can finally say I am loving pregnancy.I love to watch my little girl move in my belly, I am so excited to hold her in my arms, and I love her already in a way I can't describe.
I still have worries about how I will be when she's born. I'm concerned about postnatal depression, but I know if that does happen that help is there. I'm no longer afraid to look for it. My only regret is not doing this sooner and letting the depression get such a hold on me. My baby needs me to be in a healthy place, and she deserves a happy mum who can love her unconditionally."
