The long road from giving birth to sharing joy – The Irish News

I was 24 when I gave birth to my first child – who I think was practically middle-aged, given that many of the friends I grew up with were already on their second or third .

I couldn’t wait for my own baby to dress in little clothes, take naps, and breathe in that new baby scent, because regardless of human evolution, we all love to sniff a baby’s face.

I was still a little nervous about telling my parents that I was pregnant because I wasn’t married, but I felt like I was at a safe enough age to announce it without too much fear. shame or blame.

By the way, my father’s response was to ask, “Are you sure it’s yours?” » before returning to his diary.

I always found it funny how as little girls we were given dolls and encouraged to play “mommy,” but the second we became teenagers and asked to hold a baby, we were looked at and told Told us not to have any ideas about wanting one. ours.

It shows how much Ireland has changed since I was congratulated on my announcement, when just 20 years earlier I could have found myself in a laundry being beaten by a nun – or worse , forced to marry.

At the beginning of September 2011, I was full of excitement about the imminent arrival of my son. Despite the panic attacks and anxiety throughout my pregnancy, I thought everything would be okay once the baby was here.

If you look up the word “naive” in the dictionary, you should find a photo of me at nine months old, with four extra chins and a smile on my face.

I often lament, “Ignorance was bliss when I didn’t know how big a set of forceps was – or where they should go.” »

After two days of grueling work, emergency surgery, and numerous stitches where I think they should have sewn my butt and legs back together, I finally had my 6lb 9oz bundle of joy in my arms .

He was beautiful, with a mop of jet black hair and big eyes that left me in no doubt that God existed. Everything looked perfect. But I had never been so helpless in my life.

I was suddenly acutely aware that this new life was inextricably linked to mine and that he was now my only connection to this Earth.

I became obsessed with the fact that I wouldn’t be able to continue living if something happened to him and I was very upset in the room.

In fact, I now know I was having a nervous breakdown, but apparently tears and panic were normal for all new mothers, so I went home with my baby, thinking about how a dog owner must have a permit but I was allowed to do it. carry this little person out of the building and the only requirement to leave was to have a car seat.

After a desperate bout of postnatal depression, mixed with some psychosis that saw me walk in the rain to the doctor’s office because I had “seen the devil”, I was prescribed antidepressants, was told to stop breastfeeding and was referred to a maternity psychologist (appointment pending) before being sent home.

Without my older sister literally spoon-feeding me and watching 24 hours a day, I’m not sure I would be here today. Thank goodness my mother chose marriage and was allowed to keep her!

After years of campaigning, it has been declared that Belfast will become the first city in the north of Ireland to finally have a mother-baby unit – a mental health service designed specifically for mothers to be with their newborns while they receive the treatment they need. to recover.

It’s been a year since the announcement and there is still no firm timeline as to when this establishment will open, which I find dismaying given that this is a matter of life or death for some women.

However, services have since improved and we may soon catch up with the rest of the UK in care for postnatal depression.

I had a wonderful time at a gig in Bristol last week called Aftermirth, a daytime comedy show aimed at new parents who can bring their babies and still indulge in some levity and adult conversation.

We should really start one here, although ironically part of the fun for me was spending a night away from my own kids.

What did I tell you? I’m fine now. We recover.