Post by naomi on Aug 8, 2006 9:32:26 GMT
Hi all
Thought it would be therapeutic for me, and hopefully helpful to others, to share some of my story of puerperal psychosis and my ongoing recovery.
I had a healthy, wonderful pregnancy with Anya and was emotionally probably the best I've felt in my life with all those pregnancy hormones giving me a lift. I felt womanly and fulfilled as my bump grew, and loved to feel my baby moving and kicking. It was a time of real wonder for me as she grew, and both my husband Simon and I felt such a strong bond with her even when she was in the womb. I can remember lying in bed together watching her kick a cup around on my tummy, and feeling so excited about the little person we would meet!
My labour started off at home, managing the contractions by rocking on a birth ball, and actually getting some sleep in between. In the early hours the pain got more intense, so we went in to the maternity unit and found I was 8cm dilated - what a relief! I managed on gas and air for the next few hours while the birth pool was filled. I had a calm couple of hours then in the birth pool, as the contractions intensified. After a while I got really tired, and progress began to slow down, so the midwife suggested I get out and try some pushes 'on dry land'. Around an hour and a half later, Anya was born in the bathroom of the delivery suite, with me hanging on for dear life to the bath! The ensuing stitches were pretty awful, but I was drifting away on gas and air, and so happy to have my precious new little girl...
I had a blissful 3 days in the maternity unit, feeling sore and tired but overwhelmed with love for Anya. I often couldn’t sleep at night and would spend the early hours just looking at her in the bassinet and writing my amazed thoughts in a journal. I had a vivid mental picture of little butterfly angels caring for Anya, and remember feeling very deep and spiritual. The whole experience of childbirth had been such intense joy and pain. Then it was time to go home, and again I woke very early in the morning, doing my make-up and carefully packing all Anya’s tiny clothes ready for my husband and my mum to come and pick me up.
When we stepped out of the unit, I remember having a strong feeling of how big and scary the world was, and feeling incredibly protective of this tiny bundle. We drove the short journey home at about 5 miles an hour, petrified of every bump! Once we arrived home, I got quite agitated about a really strong smell… I couldn’t identify where it was coming from and spent ages going around trying to figure out what was causing it. Looking back, I think this is when my hormones began to flood in. Eventually, we traced the smell to some lilies in a bouquet from my husband’s parents, so my mum sorted them out, and threw them out of the window into the garden. Within a few days, as I became increasingly delusional, I was convinced that this had been a symbolic act with my mum ‘protecting’ me from interference from my in-laws…
My illness had probably already begun in the maternity unit, however the first real signs that something was not right came when Anya was 5 days old. My husband’s parents were coming for their first visit, and I had got myself quite worked up about showing them what a ‘perfect’ job I was doing with Anya. I was terribly hormonal, and when they arrived late in the evening I started to try and make them a cup of tea but felt so weak and shaky that I ended up getting very upset and angry, and told them that I couldn’t do any hosting and they’d have to look after themselves. I felt so guilty for making a scene right at the offset. My mum-in-law could see that I was struggling, and so said to me that she’d be happy to take Anya at night if she couldn’t settle, but inside I just flipped, thinking ‘she wants to take my baby from me, she doesn’t think I’m a good mum!’ I poured all this out to my husband when we went to bed saying ‘she’s my f***ing baby, she’s my baby!’ We had a terrible time with Anya that night, as my milk was just coming in and she was starving. However with the light of day I felt much better, and my in-laws looked after Anya and bought her lots of beautiful presents whilst Simon and I caught up on sleep.
As the week went on, I became increasingly sleepless and would get up in the middle of the night to type more of my thoughts about Anya on the computer, convinced that God was calling me to spend time doing this. One early morning I was listening to music on the computer and suddenly felt a huge rush of love and gratitude for Anya, so I sang at the top of my voice and danced around the room with a rose (Anya’s middle name is Rose)… Simon and Anya were blissfully unaware, sleeping in the next room. My head was racing, and I felt so alive and ecstatically happy.
Then my behaviour began to get very strange. I ran a bath at dawn, and got in for a relaxing soak. Suddenly my mind began to race, as though someone was flicking channels in my brain incredibly fast. I was getting scenes from films, clips of music, images of war and abortion protesters, thoughts about my faith and friends, all mixed together. Simon came to find me and I was excessively talkative, saying random phrases from my brain and asking him whether we were friends with celebrities. I kept asking him ‘do you understand, do you understand?’ I got this overwhelming feeling that I was meant to suffer to help save other people, as the end of the world was coming, and I said to Simon that I was going to have to kill him and Anya and myself. I had this vivid image of me as Trinity from the film ‘The Matrix’, and Simon as Neo. I was screaming and thrashing around, and Si was just terrified, finally he got me out of the bath and held me, saying ‘are you back with me?’ and asking me questions about what day it was, and what our daughter’s name was. I calmed down and we sat in bed, wondering whether this was just hormones or what on earth was going on. Amazingly, Anya slept peacefully through the whole thing.
Another few days passed, and I had milder episodes with similar delusional thoughts about the end of the world. I was convinced that heaven was coming, and felt excited about how somehow I would have an important part to play. I would keep Simon awake for hours talking incessantly about my thoughts, and would get angry with him when he needed to sleep. I also spent hours writing about my thoughts and trying to explain them to him. We were both exhausted, yet I felt so high and elated that I barely slept. Finally, I was so caught up with my delusions that I got up around 3 am and phoned everybody I could think of to reassure them that we were all going to heaven, leaving messages on answer phones and texting people. I also laid out a series of books on top of our bookcase, ‘explaining’ my delusional theories. When Simon woke up, he found the list of people I’d called and finally called in some help.
Our friend S came round and I tried to explain to her what I was thinking. She just held my hands and said ‘I don’t understand Nay, I don’t understand’ and she told Simon that we needed to phone the emergency doctor. Again, I thought this was all part of my ‘mission’ of suffering, and agreed. More friends arrived to support me, and got me into bed, helping me to stay in reality by talking about food and days out and anything trivial. I felt peaceful and serene, even when the Crisis Team arrived to talk to me, and I agreed to go into hospital. In my delusions, I ‘knew’ this would only be for 3 days, and then the end would come.
Well, there’s the first part of my story… I will write more about hospital and recovery as I gather my thoughts.
Thought it would be therapeutic for me, and hopefully helpful to others, to share some of my story of puerperal psychosis and my ongoing recovery.
I had a healthy, wonderful pregnancy with Anya and was emotionally probably the best I've felt in my life with all those pregnancy hormones giving me a lift. I felt womanly and fulfilled as my bump grew, and loved to feel my baby moving and kicking. It was a time of real wonder for me as she grew, and both my husband Simon and I felt such a strong bond with her even when she was in the womb. I can remember lying in bed together watching her kick a cup around on my tummy, and feeling so excited about the little person we would meet!
My labour started off at home, managing the contractions by rocking on a birth ball, and actually getting some sleep in between. In the early hours the pain got more intense, so we went in to the maternity unit and found I was 8cm dilated - what a relief! I managed on gas and air for the next few hours while the birth pool was filled. I had a calm couple of hours then in the birth pool, as the contractions intensified. After a while I got really tired, and progress began to slow down, so the midwife suggested I get out and try some pushes 'on dry land'. Around an hour and a half later, Anya was born in the bathroom of the delivery suite, with me hanging on for dear life to the bath! The ensuing stitches were pretty awful, but I was drifting away on gas and air, and so happy to have my precious new little girl...
I had a blissful 3 days in the maternity unit, feeling sore and tired but overwhelmed with love for Anya. I often couldn’t sleep at night and would spend the early hours just looking at her in the bassinet and writing my amazed thoughts in a journal. I had a vivid mental picture of little butterfly angels caring for Anya, and remember feeling very deep and spiritual. The whole experience of childbirth had been such intense joy and pain. Then it was time to go home, and again I woke very early in the morning, doing my make-up and carefully packing all Anya’s tiny clothes ready for my husband and my mum to come and pick me up.
When we stepped out of the unit, I remember having a strong feeling of how big and scary the world was, and feeling incredibly protective of this tiny bundle. We drove the short journey home at about 5 miles an hour, petrified of every bump! Once we arrived home, I got quite agitated about a really strong smell… I couldn’t identify where it was coming from and spent ages going around trying to figure out what was causing it. Looking back, I think this is when my hormones began to flood in. Eventually, we traced the smell to some lilies in a bouquet from my husband’s parents, so my mum sorted them out, and threw them out of the window into the garden. Within a few days, as I became increasingly delusional, I was convinced that this had been a symbolic act with my mum ‘protecting’ me from interference from my in-laws…
My illness had probably already begun in the maternity unit, however the first real signs that something was not right came when Anya was 5 days old. My husband’s parents were coming for their first visit, and I had got myself quite worked up about showing them what a ‘perfect’ job I was doing with Anya. I was terribly hormonal, and when they arrived late in the evening I started to try and make them a cup of tea but felt so weak and shaky that I ended up getting very upset and angry, and told them that I couldn’t do any hosting and they’d have to look after themselves. I felt so guilty for making a scene right at the offset. My mum-in-law could see that I was struggling, and so said to me that she’d be happy to take Anya at night if she couldn’t settle, but inside I just flipped, thinking ‘she wants to take my baby from me, she doesn’t think I’m a good mum!’ I poured all this out to my husband when we went to bed saying ‘she’s my f***ing baby, she’s my baby!’ We had a terrible time with Anya that night, as my milk was just coming in and she was starving. However with the light of day I felt much better, and my in-laws looked after Anya and bought her lots of beautiful presents whilst Simon and I caught up on sleep.
As the week went on, I became increasingly sleepless and would get up in the middle of the night to type more of my thoughts about Anya on the computer, convinced that God was calling me to spend time doing this. One early morning I was listening to music on the computer and suddenly felt a huge rush of love and gratitude for Anya, so I sang at the top of my voice and danced around the room with a rose (Anya’s middle name is Rose)… Simon and Anya were blissfully unaware, sleeping in the next room. My head was racing, and I felt so alive and ecstatically happy.
Then my behaviour began to get very strange. I ran a bath at dawn, and got in for a relaxing soak. Suddenly my mind began to race, as though someone was flicking channels in my brain incredibly fast. I was getting scenes from films, clips of music, images of war and abortion protesters, thoughts about my faith and friends, all mixed together. Simon came to find me and I was excessively talkative, saying random phrases from my brain and asking him whether we were friends with celebrities. I kept asking him ‘do you understand, do you understand?’ I got this overwhelming feeling that I was meant to suffer to help save other people, as the end of the world was coming, and I said to Simon that I was going to have to kill him and Anya and myself. I had this vivid image of me as Trinity from the film ‘The Matrix’, and Simon as Neo. I was screaming and thrashing around, and Si was just terrified, finally he got me out of the bath and held me, saying ‘are you back with me?’ and asking me questions about what day it was, and what our daughter’s name was. I calmed down and we sat in bed, wondering whether this was just hormones or what on earth was going on. Amazingly, Anya slept peacefully through the whole thing.
Another few days passed, and I had milder episodes with similar delusional thoughts about the end of the world. I was convinced that heaven was coming, and felt excited about how somehow I would have an important part to play. I would keep Simon awake for hours talking incessantly about my thoughts, and would get angry with him when he needed to sleep. I also spent hours writing about my thoughts and trying to explain them to him. We were both exhausted, yet I felt so high and elated that I barely slept. Finally, I was so caught up with my delusions that I got up around 3 am and phoned everybody I could think of to reassure them that we were all going to heaven, leaving messages on answer phones and texting people. I also laid out a series of books on top of our bookcase, ‘explaining’ my delusional theories. When Simon woke up, he found the list of people I’d called and finally called in some help.
Our friend S came round and I tried to explain to her what I was thinking. She just held my hands and said ‘I don’t understand Nay, I don’t understand’ and she told Simon that we needed to phone the emergency doctor. Again, I thought this was all part of my ‘mission’ of suffering, and agreed. More friends arrived to support me, and got me into bed, helping me to stay in reality by talking about food and days out and anything trivial. I felt peaceful and serene, even when the Crisis Team arrived to talk to me, and I agreed to go into hospital. In my delusions, I ‘knew’ this would only be for 3 days, and then the end would come.
Well, there’s the first part of my story… I will write more about hospital and recovery as I gather my thoughts.