You can read about the first part of Teagan’s journey with post natal depression and anxiety here.
So there I was, on Thursday the 13th of October 2016 at 2pm, walking through the doors of a Mother and Baby psychiatric unit to begin the slow journey of dealing with my post natal depression and anxiety.
My preparation for my stay at the unit eerily said a lot about how I was coping at the time. After receiving the call that there was a bed available for me, I broke down and cried, hiding in the bathroom from the kids. But then only minutes later, I picked myself up and I wrote a list. A list of ‘things to do’ to prepare for me being away for an unknown period of time.
I couldn’t fathom how things would run smoothly without me being around, as my daughter Charlie couldn’t stay at the unit with me so would be at home under care of my partner Nick, family and friends. I downloaded a scheduling app and organised care for Charlie between seven people, prepared meals for the freezer, did all of the washing and cleaned the house top to toe so that no one would have to worry about a thing.
That is how life was for me at the time, always taking on more than I could handle and crumbling under the self-imposed pressure.
When I was leaving home for the MBU, I felt nothing but numbness. The process seemed far too similar to leaving for a holiday as I packed my suitcase into the boot of the car, yet there was no excitement at all. Nick and I tried to chat during the 10-minute drive, but I couldn’t concentrate on a thing he was saying. As we parked on the street in front of the unit, I spotted a few mothers out the front having a cigarette (a habit I had zero tolerance for after falling pregnant) and my stomach dropped as I glanced over at Nick’s grim face and knew he had seen the same thing. “This isn’t the place for me,” I remember thinking to myself.