Our wee boy was absolute perfection. I remember laying in recovery, skin to skin with my son, while he slept peacefully. His first feed took over an hour as he would fall asleep every minute. In the end we fed him by syringe so he could get some rest. It only took 1mL of milk to fill his tiny stomach.
For the first few days he just slept. We had to set alarms every 3 hours to wake him up and feed him, both night and day. Each time he fell asleep on the breast we would have to wipe a cold cloth on his face so he could continue feeding. In his waking hours he had what we called “greyhound chatters” where his wee mouth was chattering away. This was the first symptom of his detox from my medication.
I was admitted to hospital for four days as the risk of postpartum psychosis was high. My partner stayed each and every day, sleeping on the floor beside me. By the fourth day I was ready to leave and had all my bags packed however when they weighed Riblet it showed that he had lost a significant amount of weight and we wouldn’t be able to leave until he gained something. I remember feeling dread around spending another night in hospital. I had cabin fever and was ready to go home and the guilt around my partner sleeping on the floor was becoming too much to bear.
That day we were instructed to do top ups of milk after every feed. I would pump all throughout the day and after each feed we would give him a bottle. He hated it and so did I. He was so full that he was adamant on not having a bottle and would vomit after each feed and I felt so guilty force feeding him. Thankfully he gained 20g over night and we were permitted to leave.
It was such a relief to finally be back home. Instantly I felt like I could breathe again and was looking forward to the next week and a half that my partner had off from work. It was the longest consecutive days we had spent together and it was magical. Every time I looked at Rohan that biggest smile would spread across my face and when my smile was so big it couldn’t grow anymore, I would laugh. My partner said to me he had never seen me so happy in my life and I was a beacon of love. My family was perfect and I wouldn’t swap it for the world.
In hospital we had organised a routine for feeding. In order for us to get enough sleep we took shifts with feeding. My partner would feed him anytime from when we went to bed til 2am and then I would feed him from 2am onwards. This meant we both got at least a six hour chunk of uninterrupted sleep and it was definitely our saving grace.
I recall being slightly worried about my abundant energy and the possibility of postpartum psychosis setting in but I tried to just enjoy the high and the energy while it lasted. I would wake up early in the morning, feed Riblet and then put him back to bed. I would spend a few hours each morning having time for myself and allowing my partner to get a much needed sleep in. I loved my morning routine and was thriving.
Once my partner started back at work things changed. I was bored and felt like an old cow just sitting and feeding constantly. I felt anxious and there was anger boiling up inside me. My high started fading away and the disrupted sleep caught up with me. My mind started ruminating on old wounds and I would get stuck in a negative spiral.
I find it hard to recall how I was feeling. I knew it wasn’t as bad as when I was pregnant but it was bad enough to warrant an emergency meeting with my psychiatrist at Mothers and Babies. It was decided that I would be admitted onto the ward to try and alleviate my symptoms. For some reason I didn’t think that I needed to tell anyone that I was going to be admitted but on a bad day I told my partner in a melancholic tone that I was going to go to hospital. He was quite shocked that I didn’t think to tell him earlier and I couldn’t come up with any reason why I hadn’t; I was apathetic about life.
The day before I was admitted I remember being full of rage. Not around anything specific but just angry at the world and everyone in it. I had a breakdown and began screaming outside. My parents came out to try and console me but they had also seen this side of me before and knew that they just had to wait it out. While my dad was outside with me we heard the gate open and he walked around to see who was coming in. Instantly I knew what had happened; someone had called the police.
The officer I talked to was very understanding and offered me support and after he left I went inside and starting packing my bags, feeling like the timing was right.
