Essex mother-of-two describes battle with postnatal depression

I begged my sister and my husband, Pete, to get help. With my mental health in a rapid downward spiral, the NHS crisis team became involved. The shame and fear that came with this was intense. Shame of how I could let this happen to me. And the fear I would be locked up in a hospital indefinitely.

I was diagnosed with postnatal depression and the start of postpartum psychosis, which luckily the crisis team caught early.

A psychiatrist came to assess me and prescribed strong medication to halt the delusional beliefs and help me sleep, but my brain was still awake at night with anxieties swirling around. I would wake up unrefreshed, exhausted. It was difficult to get out of bed. It felt like my legs were weighed down with lead.

I couldn’t tell you the exact point at which the suicidal thoughts came. But they came. Sometimes they came and went. But then they began to linger. I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I could not see a future. I could not understand why anyone wanted or needed me around.

It was also incredibly painful to feel no joy. I am someone who has always had a level of anxiety, but I have always been happy and not feeling joy is a pain that is indescribable. It broke my heart when Anouk told me she felt angry when I cried because I didn’t look like mummy.

I desperately sought answers on the internet on how to end my life. But every method I considered, I feared would not be successful and that thought was even more painful than the thought of not being here. But finally, I settled on a method and told my husband.

I suppose now, looking back, that was a cry for help. And so now with a real fear that I would hurt myself, hospital admission was on the table.

I was very rapidly offered a bed at a mother-and-baby unit. But the place was far from home. I was intensely scared and unsure I would be able to cope alone with my baby – my husband had been the primary carer up until now. I was also worried about the impact on Anouk.

Imagine knowing all the pain you’re causing, being desperate to be out of the pain and turmoil but having to pit it against splitting up the family. But also knowing that it was a very real possibility that, if I stayed at home, I would take my own life. Eventually, I declined this place and was placed on the waiting list for a local bed.