We made our way to hospital and our gorgeous 6lb 11oz boy, Archie, was born at 10.10pm by semi-emergency c-section. I was in awe, to be honest I didn't feel the overwhelming love at first, I felt like me but with a new person in my life. I couldn't take my eyes off him, I couldn't believe he came out of me and was convinced he couldn't fit back in there. Once we'd been in recovery for a few hours myself and Archie went up to the ward as the spinal anaesthetic had worn off sufficiently for the staff to assess my pain levels which were fine. Barry, my other half, came with us to see where we were going then it was lights out and me and baby left alone. What the hell do I do with this child?? If he cries I'm not allowed out of bed, then I need to figure out why he's crying.... how the hell do I change a nappy and how the hell am I producing food for him out of my less than ample bosom?
We made it through the first night intact. I had my breakfast and Archie had his, although breast feeding was starting to hurt a LOT and he never seemed full. I asked for help and the staff were fantastic with me but the ward was so busy they were limited with the time they could spend helping me. It's about now that I realised things were changing, I pulled the curtains round my bed as I didn't want to interact with folk. Anyone that knows me knows I love a bit of banter and to chat. Barry arrived and took charge of the nappies and cuddles and I was de-catheterised and despatched to the shower. Whilst I was in there a lady arrived to test Archie's hearing. When I came out I felt my first pangs of anxiety like I had never felt before, she couldn't conduct the test as he was hungry and kicking off, I was convinced he was deaf. What’s that about?
Day 3 arrived and I was expecting to go home. Barry arrived, I came out the shower and made a joke that Archie was looking remarkably tanned. Then something in my (currently dormant) medical brain triggered - jaundice. I immediately got a midwife and she agreed, then took him off for a blood test, I couldn't handle seeing my baby boy bleeding and crying so Barry helped and I had a walk. When the results came back it was indeed jaundice and I was moved to a window bed to give him light to help combat it.
It didn't work, his billiruben levels got so high he had to go under the UV lamps in nothing but a nappy. We were moved again to a room on our own which was nice but didn't help how I was feeling. I was associating jaundice with the adult form and was convinced he was not long for this world. I was failing at breast feeding and if he wasn't on the breast I had to be on the milking machine. I felt like a dairy cow! After one very bad night I decided to quit breast feeding him, he'd had the collostrum and I couldn't cope, I wanted him to get well and that meant being under the lights as much as possible, feeding meant coming out. I felt so guilty stopping but as soon as he started on the bottle he became a lot more settled.
We got good news on our 7th day in hospital, Archie's levels had come right down and he was able to go home! I was terrified. I couldn't look after him on my own. I was constantly crying, constantly anxious and having some thoughts that I was trying to ignore.
After struggling through Barry returning to work, a diagnosis of reflux in Archie and two trips to the emergency doctors, I felt that I could try a night out with my best pal Katherine and Fiona. I didn't want a rowdy one but we had a good laugh and I called a halt to the night very early.
The next day things came to a head. I admitted to myself and Barry that I wasn't right, I was so anxious, watching Archie all the time, waking up all night trying to hear him breathing. I was terrified of cot death, couldn't watch or read anything with babies in danger, I had a strange phobia of the stairs and had to sit down coming down them with the baby and perhaps worst of all, I was having 'visions' of him getting leukaemia when he’s older and actually going through the grief. I was crying all day to the extent my eyes were red and swollen and I couldn't go out. I told my health visitor and was referred straight to my GP that day. He was wonderful. He made me explain everything despite me not being able to speak through tears and then made me fill in a questionnaire which I scored significantly high on. I was put on Citalopram, a drug that helps make you feel better. He said it would take two weeks to work but within two days I was tear free and feeling more like me again, I found I could cope with Archie better and was beginning to have a laugh again.
Since then I have returned twice, the first time I was slipping back down into the black hole again and had my dose increased. The second time I was out walking with Archie and became convinced every car had a gunman in it and was planning on jumping on the pram the next time a car came along. I knew this was very wrong, I knew it stemmed from treating victims of the Cumbrian gunman a year before but I still don't know why it set off like that. It was now that my dose was increased to the maximum and I have since felt perfect, except when I forgot my pills for five days and was wondering why I was having dark thoughts again. Numpty that I am!
I will now keep a weekly blog about living with it as the time is drawing nearer that I will be weaned off the pills and I'm not looking forward to it to be honest.
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