In approximately four weeks I will give birth to my second child. At least this time I know what to expect, a blessing and a curse, as I prepare myself for a year of abjection, exhaustion and monotony, peppered with moments of pure joy and intense elation.
On 28 October 2013 I gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy. He was soft and smelt of immaculate vulnerability. His little face still scrunched up from the pressure of my pelvis, he had fingers that were so tiny and delicate I was convinced I would break one off before his first 48 hours of life had concluded.
I recall being tired for the first few weeks, but I was simultaneously consumed by euphoria. It was probably week six when things started to close in on me. The mind-numbing, spirit-sucking, excruciating exhaustion took its toll and one day, as my son cried and screamed in his moses basket, I downed two glasses of white wine and broke out the emergency stash of Marlboro.
Things went from bad to worse. I struggled to leave the house at all; on the days where I managed to get us both dressed and out of the door, I would arrive late, covered in baby sick, feeling awkward and detached. Inevitably my son would behave in a way that I thought was embarrassing and made me look incompetent. I would then make my excuses and returned to the disorganised sanctuary of my home to continue wallowing.
With hindsight I can see that this deterioration of my mental state was inevitable. I had gone from having a full social life and intense career to providing constant care to a completely dependent new human. I spent my days massaging my lumpy breasts, knee-deep in nappies, trialling new movements and positions that would hopefully lull my baby into a calm state. The highlight of my day would be the satisfaction of finally completing the washing up.
So it went on, and my relationship with my partner took an unavoidable turn for the worse as I directed my frustration, exhaustion and isolation towards him. He would return from work to a barrage of complaints about house issues he could do nothing to improve. Having spent any 'spare' time I had trying to extract tiny droplets of milk out of my breasts, I would be literally weeping over spilt milk. I was a blubbering ball of anger with a body that didn't belong to me and a desperate need to feel alive and stimulated.
In total it took a year before I felt like myself again. It wasn't until the clouds had fully cleared that I realised what a total mess I had been, and looking back it's likely that I had some form of postnatal depression. Going back to work was tough, but it was a necessity for me  -  not so much financially, but mentally. I recall crying on my boss in the first week; my confidence was shot and I had forgotten how to communicate with other adults. If you need a helping hand to get back on your feet, organisations such as Lifebulb, which runs workshops and social events to address the practical and emotional side of returning to work, are invaluable.
Returning to work can be even more overwhelming if you number among the one in five women who experience harassment related to pregnancy from an employer or colleague. If you have been subject to this, it's important to know you're not alone. I founded the project Pregnant Then Screwed as a safe place for women to tell their stories of discrimination, and have already received over 450 depressing accounts.
Sharing our experiences is incredibly powerful; with over 59% of new mums saying they felt down or depressed after giving birth, talking frankly about our experiences is crucial to reassuring mothers that these feelings are normal, and making sure expectant parents have realistic expectations of the early days of parenthood. If you feel down or depressed after having a baby, do make sure you ask for help, speak to your GP and check out groups such as #PNDHour on Twitter.
Mostly though, remember that it gets better. I have a terrific two-year-old son and my life is full of happiness. I have the opportunity to work in a brilliant job that keeps me stimulated and I get to spend sacred time being a mum, watching my son grow into a walking, talking, hilarious human being.
In the end it was most definitely worth it, which is why I decided to do it all again.
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Guest post: "With my second baby, I'm prepared for PND"
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MumsnetGuestPosts · 07/12/2015 15:22
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