My daughter is about to turn 2. After she was born, PND hit me like a train. I had a difficult birth, and when I was handed my baby I didn’t feel the “rush of love” or anything like it. I felt absolutely terrified and scared that I’d made a terrible mistake, and everyone seemed to want me to be happy so I felt like I couldn’t ask for help. I didn’t feel a bond with her, and I struggled with breastfeeding for four weeks before giving up. In that time I had mastitis that went septic twice. The lowest point was attempting to breastfeed for 13 hours without a break, with baby crying every time she came away from my breast, while I sat on my hospital bed trying to work out how I could get the window open enough to jump out. Whenever I asked for help (and I was back in hospital 5 times in the first 5 weeks, so I asked a lot) I was told her latch was great and everything was fine. I ended up being under perinatal mental health for 12 months. I’m still taking the antidepressants.
I’m absolutely in love with her now. Completely and utterly. But how do you deal with the guilt? I feel like I missed out on the first 6 months of her life, and all the joy of tiny babyhood, because it felt like I was trapped in a deep dark hole. I feel such regret and so so guilty that I didn’t love her when she was so tiny and she needed me.
And then there’s the anger at my body. I was 33 when I had my daughter. I thought I knew who I was. I had a sense of myself as a strong person, someone who didn’t make a fuss, someone who could do mind over matter when it came to physical pain and tiredness. I grew up on a farm, I thought I was realistic about the facts of life, and that somehow my experience with animal births and young stock would help me with birth and motherhood. After three days of stop start contractions, I stuck at 5cm dilated, had to have an induction drip, begged for an epidural, and gave birth on the operating table with forceps while being prepped for an emergency c section because she was stuck. Then I haemorrhaged just under 2litres of blood. I pushed so hard I damaged my ear drum. I felt like my eyeballs were going to burst. But I didn’t feel my baby be born. I feel like my failure to progress, failure to dilate, failure to push hard enough up until that point, failure to breastfeed, failure to love my new baby has all just dismantled who and what I thought I was. It turned out I was weak, my body didn’t know what to do, and I couldn’t deal with the pain and tiredness. And then I couldn’t even heal properly. I bled fresh red blood for a full 9 months after the birth, and was in pain every day (the hospital didn’t give a shit). So I didn’t get chance to get back into exercise and now I’m fat, unfit, and physically weak. I feel like I don’t know my body any more.
I can’t have any more children, I can’t have a do over or another chance to do it right. I wanted so badly to labour in a position where gravity would help me, but every time I got off my back I started throwing up.
I’ve posted about this all before. But it’s coming up to my daughter’s 2nd birthday and it’s weighing on me a lot. Will this guilt and regret ever go away?