I feel very privileged to be a doula. The things I have learnt and seen have helped me understand my postnatal depression. Emotionally I have grown, and slowly I have put puzzle pieces together to gain a bigger picture of what happened to me and why I haven’t bonded with my son.
When I gave birth I was induced because I was overdue. The labour was traumatic and very intense, I was left alone for hours and I remember thinking that if someone gave me a gun I would have shot myself. After guided pushing I birthed the 10lb 8oz baby and I was left incontinent. My husband at the time couldn’t find it in himself to support me and refused to take paternity leave and so I spiralled down, sinking deeply into a hole with a baby I couldn’t bear to look at or touch. I became reclusive, I lost the ability to speak properly and my confidence (of which there was a lot of) had disappeared. Thank god for my mother. She visited me daily for weeks and weeks which gave me less time to think about suicide. She helped me manage life with a young nursling, chaperoning me through Tescos, teaching me how to prepare dinner whilst entertaining a baby, and making me tea whilst I fed her grandson, often with tears streaming down my face. She was besotted with her first grandchild and luckily she had enough love for the both of us. Read More