So after my break away from the usual frivolity of this place with my post on feminism, today I’m going to break the mould even further and admit that the reason I haven’t been around recently is because I’ve been crippled with postnatal depression.
There. I said it.
That there? That statement? That has taken me a month to admit to myself and when my Dad took a day off work to come and talk to me last week because he’d noticed I wasn’t right, it was the kick in the bum I needed to go and see my lovely GP. In I trotted with the same clothes I’d slept in, one child with no shoes and a dirty nappy, one dressed in an older sibling’s clothes and one who was just being lovely albeit covered in bean sauce. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him, lovely as he was, so I handed over an entry I’d made in my livejournal and burst into tears. My GP was an absolute gem and listened to me instead of (as I’d expected) palming me off with a prescription for prozac and instructions to come back in a month. He even made me laugh, and interacted with the kids and just put my mind at ease enough for me to come home and give me the strength to do something about it.
As a result of that appointment I have been given enough of a boost to start dealing with the issues that are contributing to me feeling rubbish and I’ve had a few good days since. I have no doubt that I have a mountain ahead of me and there will be bad days ahead but I have the confidence and the support to see me through.
Besides – how can I not feel confident with little faces like this to keep me strong 
Posted under me
This post was written by Vonnie on September 2, 2009
My Mum had horrendous post natal depression after my younger brother was born. She came out the other side, and so will you. x
I loves the Vonnie. That is all.
xx
Well you know where I am on this issue, but I’m beginning to start to see myself coming out of the other side intact.
Thats a beautiful picture of Greer! I’ll pretend I can’t see the wee hairclip clinging on for dear life
You’re so strong Vonnie
*love and hugs* xx
Hi
Still being new to your blog, I am not sure my words will be of comfort to you, however I hope you know how much of an inspiration you’ve been since I discovered your blog (I forget eactly how…) a few weeks ago. I’ve just given birth to baby number three…and can sympathise with you on so many things you’ve posted!
My hubby went through severe depression, not once, but TWICE following the birth of our eldest two (seven, and four years ago).
You are not alone. Know that there is support out there for you.
Sending you lots of hugs.
Best wishes, Nicola/smilernpb xx
I know you barely know me, but I just wanted to congratulate you on going in and admitting it. Once you admit it to yourself (AND family and friends pleeeeeeeeeeeease) it is so much easier to deal with.
A friend online wrote this about PND, it is so RIGHT (if that makes sense…). You WILL get the blue sky back.
~~~~
Imagine walking through a lovely meadow. The sun shining. Looking up at a beautiful sky. Bright blue, lots of fluffy white clouds drifting by. Butterflies fluttering amongst the buttercups and daisies. Your fingers brushing the tips of the long grass as you walk…..and then suddenly, you stumble.
You manage to catch yourself after faltering for a bit. You dust yourself down, and keep on walking, admiring the beautiful surroundings. You stumble again, this time falling into a deep, unmarked pit. You keep falling and falling, grabbing out and flailing wildly to try and get a grip on something, anything. After what seems like forever, you stop your slide downwards and hit rock bottom. You are exhausted from your sudden and unexpected decent into darkness.
Before you know where you are, and what has happened, you are at the bottom of a deep hole with no idea how you got there or how to get out. You can see a chink of light in the top, but its quite far away, and you cant trust that the chink of light is the only way out, but you claw towards it anyway, even though you are exhausted and bruised and battered from your fall.
Its a lonely time in this hole. Only you and the darkness. You couldnt see anyone else even if they were there, because of the darkness and coldness of your environment. But once you realise where you are, you know you have to clamber out and,` if you are lucky, someone will pass by and offer a hand of help to pull you out.
Despite being exhausted, and bruised and battered, you clamber you way to the top, and you finally make your way out of the hole. Yet you are still shocked and stunned by what happened. How could you miss such a big hole in front of you? Why couldnt you see it coming? How come no-one before you has fallen into this hole (you think) and not thought to block it up? Many people before you has managed to walk through the meadow without falling into this pit, why couldnt you have seen it coming, or prevented it, or just had a better journey?
You are stood, standing in this beautiful meadow, but all you can think about is the dark hole that you have just fallen into and clambered out of, how sore and aching your body is, and how tired you are. The beauty around you means nothing for a while. But you are grateful to be out, and you realise you should appreciate the beautiful surroundings.
You keep walking, but you find yourself no longer admiring the sky, the clouds, the butterflies, the flowers. You are busy looking at your feet. Concentrating hard, because, you dont want to fall into another pit, and waylaid by your aching bones and tired body.
You lose sight of all the beautiful things around you because you are continuing your journey looking only down at the ground, on alert for danger. You dont appreciate the sky, the clouds, the flowers, the butterflies, because you are too scared of falling down another hole, you still have the bruises from the last fall.
You are terrified that, if you take your eyes off terra firma for a moment, you could slip down that hole again and you wont find your way out so easily this time.
It is a long, lonely journey, spent staring at the ground, before you trust your surroundings, and your instincts enough again to appreciate your journey, and realise its beauty. To wander through the meadow staring at the beautiful blue sky and fluffy white clouds.
Vonnie, I can honestly say I know how you feel, been there done that got the T shirt or words to that effect and I also know that you don’t give a damn what I say or anybody else says….but please be aware that people DO care and will help when you need it…..hopefully those close to you will know when you need it and help in the way you need them to most. AND that gorgeous little baby has got to be worth waking up to and for every day, and trust me you will survive……all love xxxxxxxx
Well done. I know some of where you’re at on this one, having had PND with my last two. Keep strong, it does get better. xxx
Well done on going to the GP, if it’s the same GP practice I’m at then they are ALL lovely in there
I’m glad that the consultation went well & be strong xxx
The big hole and the meadow is so spot on. I suffered terribly for the first year of my second child’s life. It does get easier and she’s quite right, you will see the sky again!
Love and hugs xxx
oh gosh.
Very well done for recognising and confronting it.
Please, just keep talking.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
aww Vonnie – well done for admitting it to yourself and for asking for help. I’d never have guessed anything was wrong because you are always so confident and capable, and busy , wow you are sooo busy.
Maybe you need to slow down so you can appreciate the blue skies mentioned in flamesparrows post.
lots of love Megan x
yaay for the Vonnie! I think you know you have all the support I can offer on this one so I’d like to take a minute and tell you how much this photo made me giggle instead!
She’s so cute…and about to give you the finger!(probably coz ye stuck a clip on her head :p)
I agree with VintageViolet – I would never have guessed that you had PND, because you seem to accomplish so much! I hope you get all the support you need to get through this, and your gorgeous children should help to keep you going. Greer is absolutely beautiful, such an angelic wee face!
Hi, I’m another person you barely know who follows your blog. All I can say is we’re here, supporting you, and that depression does end. I’ve never had post-natal (having never had children) but I have had depression, and have taken the tablets as well. You will come through.
You know what Von, you are an absolute star! Well done on going to your gp. love & hugs x x
p.s you’re very naughty for offering to do the swap! Just shout if you want any help or can’t find the time xx
Big hugs xxxx
Wish I could manage quite as much as you do even with PND…and well done your Dad for spotting the signs and talking to you about it, I know that its not easy for one with PND to recognise it themselves and people around tend to think its a phase, so don’t say anything
Thanks, lovely Vonnie, for making this post.
Every time someone living with PND makes a post like this one, it makes it harder to ignore.
Keep fighting x
*huggles*
You know we’re all here for you when you need us xx
You are an inspiration!
http://daisiedavies.blogspot.com/2009/09/hole-in-meadow.html
xxx
Hey Vonnie,
It takes a lot to admit the onset of PND and I take my hat of too you for blogging about it. I can’t imagine what it is like but only from the people I know who have experienced it. I can’t offer you a solution but hopefully what I can offer may be good for you!! How about taking a wee hour out for yourself one night and come round to mine for a full body massage or even just a back massage? It gives you a wee hour just for you where you get to lie down – chat if the mood takes you or just lie in silence and enjoy the music. if your really good you get a cup of tea and a biccie afterwards lol!!
let me know if your interested x
Oh Vonnie. My heart goes out to you. I had pnd after my first and people would look at this perfect baby and say “You must be so happy” and I’d think, “well you’d think so…” and then feel horribly guilty on top of it all for not being as deliriously happy as everyone else seemed to be.
Well done for recognising that you needed some help and then seeking it out from a sympathetic dr (not so common!. And how brave of you to blog about it so honestly.
You will get through this, even when it seems impossible. And know that you have lots of virtual and invisible friends who are thinking of you and wishing you well
*Many Hugs*
It’s a very difficult thing to admit – it took me 6 months to admit after I had my first. I recognised it sooner second time round, but it was infinitely worse – I cried when I went to my GP too. Very good idea taking a print-out, I could barely speak to my GP! Anyway, you’re not alone..
I’ve read this post about a hundred times, struggling with how to comment on a subject that’s so close to me and where others have responded so eloquently.
I know how hard it is to admit you’re struggling and I think you’re incredibly brave. Not to mention more than a little bit heroic for accomplishing so much with all you have on your plate
Personally speaking, I think you’ve made one of the most important steps towards feeling better by admitting it to yourself, asking your doctor for help and by writing about it here. There are so many people who care for you, both in real life and cyber bloggy world, and we’re all here to support you whether we’ve been through PND or not. Or twice, as the case may be. Although it might technically be considered once, as there was no gap between
You *will* feel better, I promise.
My God, she’s gorgeous! You’re wonderful. You have 4 fabulous kids (they look so cheeky and beautiful in your photos), you bake, sew, knit, create, blog, mother, meet friends, symapthise (I type these in no particular order) and must have very little time to yourself. Keep strong x
I am so glad you have found the strength to admit this and to seek help hun. Keep strong and remember every step, no matter how small, is a step forward. (This is a something I tell myself everyday) xxxx
I wish I had had the internet when the girls were babies, my family ignored my PND as me lazy.
I think your dad is wonderful for helping you see that you were not yourself.
I found you through Kitschy coo, and have not commented before – but I just want to say, like everyone else seems to be saying, you’re doing the right thing and are strong. I never admitted I had PND until it was almost all better. I nearly got fired, and I wouldn’t have cared if I had been then.
A big hug to you.
This time last year I was suffering with PND. At first I couldn’t understand why it had happened to me, I’m usually such a strong person. A year later and things are a hundred times better.
Just hang in there. xxx
take every day as it comes, try not to think to much further than than and keep as positive as you can, i hope you start feeling better soon!
Lisa