2 steps forward, 1 step back...

It's been a while since I posted on here. Partly because not much of note has happened and partly due to a touch of writers' block... Still not quite sure where this entry is going but I'll let my fingers walk the keys and see where they take me.

We had a lovely week in Ireland with friends. Nice and relaxed, lots of family time and good fun. Lots of kids though and having a) pushed a double buggy and b) spent a day with 6 kids aged from 4 months to 9 years, we are fairly certain that Nathan will be an only child!

The holiday did highlight to me though that I still had PND symptoms. One night I went out with the girls for a meal and a couple of drinks and the feeling of disconnect was still there. They must think I'm a mouse of a woman... I also noticed the flat feeling was back and I don't think I got as much 'up' out of the week as I would have under 'healthy' circumstances.

I also bit the bullet before going away and told Mum that I have PND. I know she means well, but rather than listen to me and ask me how I feel she went on to tell me I probably wasn't really depressed, just bored and lonely and that I should just get out and about and everything will be fine. I think she's worried I'll be stigmatised for having depression on my medical file but as far as I can see there is no reason anyone should know outside the medical practice and those I choose to tell? Part of me wishes I hadn't said anything as it may make the imminent visit to Mum and Dad harder work than it should be but too late now...

I had an appointment with my GP yesterday morning which was good timing as, aside from the symptoms showing on holiday I have become tearful and disconnected again and was feeling I am pretty much back where I started. The chat with my lovely GP was very helpful. She did up the strength of my prescription but she also helped me see that I have come on since our first meeting and pointed out some key changes to illustrate what she's saying and I can really see it. So onwards and upwards, as they say...

Well, my apologies - this has been a bit of an unstructured ramble but it has emptied my head of the random bits rattling around that I needed to air...

Lessons learned

Since the last time I posted I have learned a few things...

These 2 courtesy of my son:

• I haven't missed anything by not trying papaya before the age of 36
• The smallest thing can bring the greatest and longest lasting joy - Nathan's first tooth peeking through a gum, watching him try and move now he's learned to roll over... I could list a hundred small moments, the memory of which makes me smile over and over

The third lesson is that I feel better when I think I look good (well duh!) but I worry too much what other people think. As a result I go for a safe uniform of jeans & t-shirt or something similarly bland.

When I'm out and about I quite often see someone and think 'Look at the state of that' and would hate to think someone else thought that of me. I also have a voice in my head telling me I might be over-dressed or inappropriately attired for the occasion (shopping/work/party) or just bring unnecessary attention to myself. That voice sounds a lot like Mum sometimes...

As a result I don't think the way I dress reflects the real me, at least not very often. I know Allan gets really frustrated by the fact I don't dress to take advantage of my figure (especially as I've lost around 3 stone, largely baby weight, since having Nathan). Every now and then he will try to give me a proverbial kick up the jacksy and take me on a shopping trip where the rules are that I must try on the things HE wants me to wear just to get me out of the rut I've fallen into.

The most recent trip was last weekend. He actually got me to try on some skinny jeans (despite my protest they'd make my bum look about a mile wide) and they fitted and (we think) they looked good, especially with the bargainous pair of platform sandals I also spotted. In fact it boosted me so much I had a mini spree (well the sales were almost too good to miss) and my confidence has had a much needed boost.

Now all I need to do is remind myself that I don't need an excuse to make a bit of an effort with my appearance. It makes me feel good and that's enough reason in itself.

And relearn to walk in heels so I can wear aforementioned vertiginous sandals...

Impending doom...

Not much has happened since my last entry, which was just after my birthday.

My birthday weekend was lovely. We went to Al's dad's for a BBQ with family and friends. The weather played ball and FIL's girlfriend had made a lovely spread including my current favourite lemon drizzle cake. On the Sunday we just relaxed and spent time with Nathan and each other. Time for just the two of us is a rare commodity at the moment.

Since the weekend though I haven't been able to sleep properly and am so tired I look like I have bruising around my eyes. Not attractive (and not helped by the yeti eyebrows I seem to have sprouted - must get into town and get them threaded!). I don't really know why I'm not sleeping - the worst of the heat has passed so that's not it. I have been quite tense - living with a sense of impending doom - for the last week or so. Almost like I'm waiting for something to happen but I don't know what. That is perhaps not helping...

On Monday evening I had convinced myself Allan was never coming home because he had been killed in a car crash. I was literally sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was even trying to make a plan of what I would need to do. Completely irrational (and thankfully unfounded). While I haven't had any further episodes like that I do feel like I'm waiting for the axe to fall and I don't know why.

Group was difficult on Tuesday. I was so tired I couldn't really tune in to the conversation. I also feel like if I start to talk I will have no control over what comes out. I'm not aware of anything particular I need to air or discuss but there is a gain that feeling of waiting for a bomb to go off...

On a more positive note I have a couple of things to look forward to this month...

Tomorrow one of the girls from PND is having a 1st birthday party for her little girl at a place just around the corner so I am hoping to screw up the courage to pop in and say hi. Apparently the party is more for the adults than the kids so should be fun...

And in just over a week we're off to Wicklow to stay with some friends. They had a little girl exactly a month after we had Nathan and already have a two year old son so lots of fun to be had.

More immediately, the sun is shining today so we're off to the pool to lie in the sun and soak up some vitamin D.

Unfortunate coincidence...

So the last posting was a bit of a random rant but it helped. Allan read it and it opened a bit of a discussion and I feel much better now. Seems this blog thing might actually help!

Anyway, before that mini meltdown interrupted, I mentioned on 1 July that I had realised I was smiling for no good reason but that the 'up' feeling didn't last and promised I would explain why... So here's that explanation - a few days late but better late than never right?

I attend a PND support group on a Tuesday morning. While the Mums have a cuppa and chat through the week's happenings the babies are looked after in a creche so we get a bit of space too.

Last week was my second week and there was a face there I hadn't seen before because she had been on holiday the prior week. Anyway, the conversation moved around the circle and I spoke about Nathan weaning and how I'd had a fairly even week mood-wise and that I was enjoying running and being back in the gym. The chat eventually got round to this new face and she suddenly started crying. It transpired that she had a little boy called Nathan about 18 months ago but he died shortly after birth. It was the first time she'd heard someone else talk about their Nathan at it hit a nerve.

Anyways, after group I walked home feeling all happy and content and made a cuppa then my brain started working overtime. Her birth story was very similar to mine - 2 weeks late, induced, hormone drip, baby's heart beat dropping, forceps. At this stage my Nathan arrived but she went on to have an emergency c-section and her Nathan died from a bleed on the brain, possibly caused by the forceps. So I started thinking how similar our stories were and how we could have lost our Nathan and I ended up in floods of tears because I feel that I'm not making the most of my time with Nathan before going back to work and all the bad feelings resurfaced about being inadequate. So that was the end of my rare happy moment.

Of course I know I can't feel guilty for what happened to her. I have enough going on in my own head without accepting the burden of her tragedy too. It is, however, the first time I've had a real downer since starting on the tablets and I won't be able to talk about it at group because she will feel terrible - she already apologised a million times for crying and making me feel uncomfortable!

My mind has done this to me before. Iget into a kind of 'everything is too perfect something must go wrong' mode and suddenly I am convinced Allan is going to have a fatal car crash and that I will lose touch with everyone and become a loner. Logical it isn't but I can't seem to switch that voice off in my head when it starts. And because I know it doesn't make sense I've never told anyone about these irrational fears. I wonder if admitting to them will help them go away?

Hope this and the last post doesn't put folk off reading this! I think because I am at the start of this process I am vanquishing some demons. I will post about good things too - I have a lot of things to be vary happy about but I seem to have lost touch with my happy mode. Even when I know something is great it doesn't always touch me emotionally the way it would have done 9 months or so ago...

Well, my boy will be waking from his nap soon so I better go grab some lunch and a cuppa. Here's hoping I have a nice story for the next instalment!

Self-defeating tactics

Honestly, I am such a self sabotaging idiot!
Am I trying to lose weight? - yes.
Do I enjoy running and training? - double yes!

So why on earth when Allan supports, encourages and provides opportunities for me to get out and run/train do I not immediately jump into my trainers and get going?

Thinking about it, this self sabotage mode is a precedent set about 20 years ago in school...

I think there were high expectations of me and on some level I was scared to let people down so I started the self sabotage routine to reduce those expectations- not doing homework, not studying for tests/exams, forgetting textbooks. All pretty innocuous sounding really but, looking back, it served as a barrier to achieving the fullest from my potential...

Fast forward to the present and the pattern is apparent in recent events - not studying for tax exams - even 6 months pregnant I could have passed those exams if I'd bothered to open a book on a regular basis and now I am making excuses not to go for a run or go to the gym.

Pathetic.

Especially as all through my pregnancy all I wanted to do was get back to training. I had big plans. Long walks everyday with the pram (actually I do get out most days and get a decent walk in), put Nathan in creche at gym while I do a weights routine, let Allan look after Nathan while I run evenings (or mornings). And all these things are possible. Allan does all he can to make the opportunities for me to get out there and I just sit on my fat lazy bum and moan about being flabby around the middle.

Even worse, when I do get out there I feel great. I get a real buzz from pushing my limits and my mood lifts. So why don't I - as Nike says - 'Just do it'

Answers on a postcard...

A brief synopsis of my past 12 months

So - the basic intro was the easy bit - it is just facts and doesn't take much thought.

A bit more about me perhaps?

Perhaps a rewind to about 12 months ago to give an idea of how things really have changed recently...

Just over 12 months ago I was working for a medium sized international accountancy firm. I had finally got my confidence back after being treated like a non-entity at one of the Big 4 (internal politics - say no more!), really enjoyed my job and was starting to feel ready for more of a challenge (promotion, more clients, technical exam - that kind of thing). Then, on 17 June I was checking my diary to set a meeting and noticed the marker for my last period seemed a long time ago. I counted the days and when I got to 47 realised the obvious - after about 9 months of not taking precautions I had fallen pregnant. 2 weeks after being at the docs for a referral as I had been lead to believe by previous medical advice that I would find it hard to conceive, let alone carry a child!

A lot of the people who are likely to follow this will remember how long the time from that realisation to getting the test result took - I had to make myself go and get changed and make a cuppa so I didn't stand staring at the little blue & white stick... Allan's face when he picked up the stick an endless half hour later was priceless (once he'd realised I hadn't given him a pen!) At that stage I was 6 weeks pregnant.

Fast forward to just before Xmas 2008. The pregnancy had progressed relatively smoothly and apart from a small bleed in the early stages no real issues but now I was in the third trimester and it was taking its toll. I got signed off work at in the middle of December, essentially extending my Xmas holiday by 2 weeks and boy did I need the rest!

Work by now was also less than tip top - we were about to lose one of my main clients and no work was coming in. I specialise in corporate tax and the credit crunch was biting on our office big time. I spent most of my working day doing busy work or surfing the net or chatting on a favourite forum. I started to think redundancy was a possibility and, given the lack of progression, have to admit I wasn't entirely sure it would be a bad thing...

In January my suspicions were confirmed. A meeting was called a week before I was due to start maternity leave to announce to those affected that 9 positions were being made redundant across the 2 offices in Scotland. My job grade was being cut from one position to two. It was clear from the offset that I would be the one to go - my client load had diminished dramatically and I was expensive. So on 31 January my redundancy was confirmed and I was let go with immediate effect. The silver lining - if I find a job to start when I would have been finishing maternity leave we will be quids in financially, a nice chunk in the bank to go towards the deposit on a wee house some time next year.

So, with work out of the way I could concentrate on the forthcoming arrival. 'Bean', as my baby was known, was due on 11 February and I was sure he would come early. How wrong can a person's instincts be! Nathan was delivered by Anderson forceps 16 days late after 3 days of being in hospital getting induced and about 10 hours in the delivery room! After a couple of days in hospital to establish breast feeding we came home and my life began to revolve around his sleeps and feeds. I won't lie - the first month was hellish - he had no routine, I didn't understand his cries and I felt drained but accepted I was on a steep learning curve.

Is it wrong to say that newborn babies are boring - yes they are endlessly cute and yes I would catch my breath or get a lump in my throat when I looked at him, but they don't DO anything other than eat, sleep, cry and fill nappies.

By week 8 I began to see a difference; nathan began noticing his surroundings more, he began reacting to songs being sung to him, he started burbling and he became a pleasure to be with rather than just a small dependent being. I feel terrible admitting that I needed more than to just be with my baby. It isn't that I didn't love him truly and deeply. There were days when I was content to hold him and do nothing more but largely I wanted to be doing my own things too. I haven't finished a book, completed a puzzle, made a card or done any of the things that made me who I am since he was born. I have only recently got back to running and the gym and feel much better for doing something that is only about me. Maybe I'm too selfish to be a good Mum?

3 weeks ago I broke down in the health visitor's room and, following a referral to a GP have been diagnosed with PND and subscribed anti depressants. I have also been referred to a support group which meets on a Tuesday morning. I feel more like my old self. Yesterday after group I realised I had a smile on my face as I walked down the street for no other reason than it was a lovely day and I felt good. The good feeling didn't last but that is perhaps a story for tomorrow

So here we are at 1 July 2009 - Nathan is now 4 months old and I have begun to really enjoy the time I spend with him. It helps that he has more of a routine now and naps at regular intervals so I know I'm likely to get some time to myself in the morning and the afternoon. We now also have a bedtime routine and its a rare evening that he hasn't gone to sleep by 7.30pm after a massage from me, a bath with his daddy, a feed from me and some quiet cuddles with either or both of us. As of last Friday he has started the weaning process and is already making good progress there.

The tablets must be working - I haven't had more than a couple of crashes in the last couple of weeks and I was crashing on a daily basis previously. Allan has commented that I am more like my old self. I feel myself that I am more able to smile, make a joke and fool around. 3 weeks ago nothing was funny.

Anyway. Enough ramblings. A quick summary of where we are at.

I have started smiling again.

And so it begins...

I suppose an introduction is in order...



I am a 35 (soon to be 36) year old with three boys in my life:

• My husband Allan,


• My son Nathan, and


• My cat Casper

I suppose in a way Nathan is the catalyst for this blog. I gave birth to him at 0703 on 27 February this year and since then I have struggled to be 'normal' and have recently been diagnosed with post natal depression.

I find I am having difficulty coming to terms with this diagnosis. I am taking anti depressants and they are working so well I am beginning to doubt whether I was truly depressed in the first place. As a result I am feeling guilty and, I suppose, brushing any bad moments aside as tiredness.

I hope the blog will form part of my 'treatment' - allowing me to post thoughts, feelings and incidents as they arise and then letting me reflect on them at a later date.

More will follow shortly...