I have two DDs: one aged 4½, the other is a couple of months off being 3.
With the eldest, born 2014:
*I saw a different midwife at every appointment, and only once at my local practice as the midwife clinic only ran once every 2-3 weeks, and hardly ever married up with the dates I needed seeing.
*Midwives during (induced) birth were very kind - because I had a student midwife she was there at all times, which was comforting. She and her supervisory qualified midwife also stood up for me when the consultant claimed I wasn't having contractions (the monitor wasn't working well, but I was obviously in labour). I also felt well cared for when the decision was made to go for an emergency caesarean, which went smoothly.
*Postnatal care was much worse. I was told off by a midwife for twice requesting help changing nappies, when I had had major surgery, no rest, and was still catheterised and bedbound. I was offered no food at all - I was expected to walk to the kitchen to get meals, within hours of major surgery and carrying a newborn as well (or pushing her in a cot, where she screamed blue murder until she was picked up from it). How I was supposed to carry a baby and a tray at the same time is anyone's guess. I suppose they were hoping I wouldn't bother and so keep food costs down - in that they were successful, and I are nothing aside from what my husband brought for me. I had some help with breastfeeding, which was useful. Leaving postnatal was extremely difficult, and I ended up being discharged at 7pm, having first asked to leave early in the morning. My overriding memories of that ward are the telling off and the incredible heat (I felt ill: it was July, a heatwave, no air-conditioning, no fans at my end of the ward, closed windows, and broken thermostat so the heating was on).
*Home visits from midwives were fine, as were follow-up weigh-ins at clinics as DD1 lost 10% of her birth weight.
*Health visitor was unhelpful, patronising, and told us nothing new. Nothing actively detrimental, but there was no point in seeing her.
With the youngest, born 2016:
*I was at a new practice, which had weekly midwife clinics, so I saw the same community midwife each time. She was kind until I tried to mention that my mental health was poor, at which point she didn't engage/probe for detail, and I got steadily worse (antenatal depression, suicidal ideation and planning, including running and hiding in my garden in the middle of the night, in February, only wearing pyjamas).
*When booking an elective section, the hospital readily agreed, but dismissed my concern over my due date falling in a bank holiday weekend. A consultant doctor booked me in for surgery on that weekend. I turned up, letter in hand, 40 weeks pregnant and 12-hour fasted, to be met with puzzlement from midwives who said that planned surgery was never performed on weekends and bank holidays. A (different) consultant doctor was very dismissive, treated me like I was stupid for being there as instructed, and sent me away with a hastily-agreed-to alternative date for surgery. Mental health took a sharp downward turn at this point. At no point did I receive an apology from either consultant.
*Four days later I had the surgery, was abandoned in a waiting room all day. When I got to surgery I was told that I could have eaten lunch as they'd known I'd have a long wait, but no one told me, so I had fasted for 20 hours.
*Recovery was full to bursting, my baby screamed non stop. My husband and I were reprimanded by a midwife because "babies don't cry for no reason". She was unable either to determine the reason or quiet our baby.
*Postnatal was again unpleasantly hot, but at least this time the outdoor temperature was not a contributing factor. I was given breakfast once, otherwise left to fend for myself, again meaning I didn't eat except what my husband could bring me. My baby continued to cry inconsolably except when feeding, only once did a midwife come to see me/her to find out if we were alright. The nights seemed very, very long and lonely, and the days not much better. I cried almost as much as my baby, but more quietly. The husband of the woman in the next bed made disparaging comments about me/my baby to a midwife, who did not pull him up on it. No assistance was offered with breastfeeding, but fortunately we didn't have an issue. My overriding memories of postnatal ward this time are of a completely uncaring and unsupportive atmosphere, which actively aided the deterioration of my mental health.
*Midwife home visits were from an unfamiliar midwife - I was surprised it wasn't the community midwife who had seen me during pregnancy.
*My health visitor was wonderful. She was kind, considerate, and caring. She made multiple visits just to talk to me, and although she wasn't a trained counsellor talking to her was invaluable.
*My GP was kind at my 6-week check, and when I told him I had PND, was suicidal, and was feeling a danger to my baby he referred me to mental health support immediately. I went to a counselling appointment, which was very helpful, however that was all the available support - they identified that I had "moderate" PND and was in need of support, but they couldn't offer me counselling, only antidepressants, which I didn't want to take due to breastfeeding.
*5-6 months after birth (during which I repeatedly tied nooses around my own neck, smothered my baby more times than I can remember, and ran away from my home and family for a brief period without any shoes or method of contact) I went to a charity counselling service, after urging from a friend. The counsellor wasn't helpful, but the time away from my still-crying and vomiting baby was.
*At one year after the birth, I was starting to feel less suicidal, and was able to identify that I loved my baby.
*My baby is now 995 days old. She has had the standard health visitor clinic checks, and immunisations - no queries about my health have been made. I have not had any contact from my GP, the NHS counselling service, the charity counselling service, or anyone else with regard to my postnatal depression, suicidal feelings, or the safety of my child. I do not feel that I am fully recovered from postnatal depression, now three years after it started.
In short: My physical care was excellent. My mental care was absent. I am extremely fortunate to have supportive friends and family, without whom I am certain that my depression would have progressed even further than it did. With my first baby I learned to change a nappy. With my second I learned to tie a noose. I am still horrified at how little anyone cared about my safety or that of my baby. I have since advised any local pregnant friends to avoid the hospital in which I gave birth, due to the deeply distressing experience of the postnatal ward.