Sleepless Nights and Baby Blues: A Story of Post-natal Depression, Betrayal and Triumph over Adversity

By Krysten Clarke

'Today I'm going to do it - I'm going to start writing my story!' new mum Cathy declares fiercely, as she begins re-reading her old diaries and revisiting the desperate times following the birth of her son, Joseph. Confused and depressed, shattered by the deceit and betrayal of her husband, she attempts to come to terms with being a parent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781483533759

Book preview

Sleepless Nights

and

Baby Blues

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

The Story of my Life

Chapter 2

'What Next?

Chapter 3

'Busy Days

Chapter 4

'A Black Hole

Chapter 5

'Is this the end?

Chapter 1

‘The Story of my Life’

Joseph, Joseph, Joseph…… Just look at you, now. My little darling, aren’t you? How your Mummy loves you……

But things haven’t always been easy, have they?  It’s a strange feeling, reading back through my old diaries.  In many ways it feels like I’m reading about someone else’s life.  But it was me.  It was me that went through all that horrible stuff and came out the other side.  Wiser?  I hope so.  Wearier? In some ways. Tougher?  Who knows?

July 19th

Today I’m going to do it.  Today I’m going to start writing my story.  My life during the last nineteen months. Joseph is nineteen months old and fast asleep. He will probably remain so for about an hour, an hour and a half if our dear Lord favours me.  The breakfast and lunch dishes sit abandoned by the sink, stacked in perched artistic piles and the house needs a good vacuum and dust, at the very least.  But I am claiming this window of time as my own.  The dishes can wait and I’m not sure anyone notices when I’ve cleaned the house anyway, so that can wait too.  Joseph certainly isn’t going to get up from his wee cot and start complaining.

Having Joseph has been, without doubt, the best thing I’ve ever done, my greatest achievement.  If I had a ‘Life CV’ it would be there, right at the top, in bold writing, ‘Becoming a Mother’.  It has been the most fulfilling, the most surprising and the most life changing event I have experienced.  Nobody could have prepared me for what was in store or could have explained to me what it would feel like, being a mother.

It has not been easy by any means.  Two months ago I stopped taking the anti-depressants.  I don’t know why I’m whispering.  I’m not ashamed of taking medication to see me through a difficult time.  And now I’m coping.  No, more than that, I’m a good mother.  I’m sure of that.  And I’m aware that many women have it much worse. A thousand times worse.  As a family, we’re not wealthy, but we’re not badly off and I can afford to work part-time.  I have some family support, which is definitely better than none, and my husband is learning to be a parent too and does his best.  He’s not always found it easy either.  My own mother, and her mother and her mother in turn would certainly have had it a lot worse.  So really I have no cause to complain.  Maybe we just expect too much these days.

I feel like I’ve come a long way when I look back at those very early days.  Unless you have experienced post-natal depression, mild or otherwise, it’s very difficult to imagine how it makes you feel.  And it’s not a subject that people like to discuss very freely, as a rule.  A bit like domestic violence. And circumcision.

I really was an emotional mess. I couldn’t stop crying. I was constantly bursting into tears, never really knowing why. I felt like a failure. And my marriage was wobbling precariously, as we tried to find some common ground in the chaos of our new roles. Everything was too much and at times I just wanted to pack a bag and run away from it all. At one of my worse moments I felt scared – scared because I was totally out of control and, to be dramatic, had no idea where the roller coaster of parenthood, of life was taking me. One afternoon I ran to the doctors, literally, in tears, all the way (God knows what our neighbours or anyone watching thought!), and I begged her for help.  The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to do something.  Anything. The way I was feeling couldn’t go on.  Something had to change.  I know that it wasn’t my fault but looking back I can’t help feeling guilty for being in such a mess.  And I was a mess.  And