How I live is how they’ll learn

There are times I’m asked a question that literally stops me in my tracks. And this happened to me last week. Sitting at my fortnightly shrink appointment, my therapist asked me how, as a result of my experiences are now shaping the type of mother I am for my kids & what traits & values I’m stilling in them, also as a result of my life experiences. Answering this for me was simple & the qualities rolled off my tongue.

I responded: I would hope my kids are going to be humble, considerate & compassionate. I would hope that my kids are  going to think really hard before making a judgement or sizing someone up & I would hope that they are going to be kind hearted. Simple really.

Most of the qualities I wish upon my kids, I learned throughout my life, (mostly) the older I got, the more experiences I had & by the  friends I’ve had along the way. Funnily enough, it’s been my kids that have taught me the true meaning of some of these traits, specifically, humility & to refrain from judgment.

I think the most amount of learning I did was when I was admitted to the nuthouse (psych facility, parent-infant unit). I learnt that certain things in life doesn’t discriminate, most obviously at the time, mental illness. I learned it didn’t matter about my education, my background, my University degree, my relationship status, my income, my level of class in society, what car I drove, how big my diamond was – nothing mattered. I was no better than anyone else I sat with & spend my time with. In fact, I was no better than anyone in admitted to the facility then & forever. I needed help just like everyone else. It was the most humbling experience of my life (so far) & one that keep me grounded daily. I also hope my kids see mental illness as an unfortunate condition & not a character flaw, an excuse for odd/bad behaviour or social awkwardness or a result of being weak or impressionable.

It’s easy to learn not to be judgmental when you become a parent.Well it’s easy, but not necessarily upheld & practiced. You learn very quickly that what works for you & your child might not be acceptable & approved by someone else, but it becomes their issue & not yours. You learn that no child is the same (especially if you have more than one child), you learn they all develop at their own pace, you learn that they overcome challenges when they are ready, you learn that you will move mountains for your kids in order for them to be happy, healthy & safe & you learn that we all do it that way that we know how & what works for us. You learn that there will still be those that will judge you for choices you make for your kids, but that their opinions are just opinions. You learn to accept others for the choices they make, whether you agree with them or not. You may not know the other person’s background or journey or what led them to make certain decisions, but to try & just be supportive of them. I’m not naive, I know we are all judgmental, it’s human nature, but it’s those of us that have learnt to accept choices of others that tend to carry less anger, resentment & jealousy.

This wasn’t a revelation for me, however I was still surprised at how the words flowed at the time, how instant the words came & how passionate I was when answering. I don’t know if my answer would have been as passionate had I not spent time in the nuthouse, had I had an easy time becoming a mother, had I had a child without special needs or had I had a different upbringing. What I do know is that this has all shaped the person, wife & mother I am & the person, wife & mother I want to be.

My post on PPD to Joy – Taking off my mask

Yael from PPD to Joy kindly asked me to share with you all my journey on recovering from PPD within a Jewish community in Melbourne Australia.

Allow me to tell you a little bit about myself and the most beautiful city in the world, where I live. I’m a born and bred Melbourne-ite. I attended a private Jewish day school and went on to study at Monash University where I got a degree in marketing. I went on to work in the account departments of various advertising agencies over the next ten years before I left to have my first baby.

The Melbourne Jewish community is made up of the largest number of Holocaust survivors of any Australian city – the highest per capita concentration outside of Israel itself. We have a vibrant Jewish community inclusive of Ultra orthodox, Lubavitch, Modern Orthodox and Progressive Jews. There are many synagogues, Jewish schools, youth groups, kosher food a plenty (well, for Australian standards anyway). Most of our grandparents have/had European accents and we grew up eating very unAustralian foods. We are a small community – everyone knows someone who knows someone, who went to school with someone, had a date with someone or is now related to someone by marriage. And this stems global too, as family and friends move, marry and migrate.

When I was in the second grade, my father went to live in Israel for six months in order to study to become a Rabbi. He graduated and returned to Melbourne to take up the position of the Rabbi of Kew Hebrew Synagogue, a modern Orthodox Synagogue in the South Eastern suburbs of Melbourne. I wasn’t too sure at the time what to make of his job and new role and most certainly didn’t think about how it would impact my life – after all, it was just my dad’s job!

Soon after my dad took on the position our family was thrust into the limelight. Everyone knew who we were and we couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized or talked about. I recall my parents often telling me that ‘such ‘n such’ saw me at the movies with my friends – it was as though there were little spies reporting where we were, what we did, who we were with, etc. It was as though I lived in a fishbowl.

My upbringing was all about appearances. It didn’t matter what was going on in our home behind closed doors – when we were in public, it was business as usual and we donned our masks. I didn’t realize just how damaging this was until I was nineteen and we had what would be called a ‘scandal’ in my family,  we all continued on with that Victoria Grayson smile and mask covering extreme sadness. I had learnt and mastered to hide pain and put up a front.

Following the birth of my DD and the hell that followed and my admission to the nuthouse I was adamant I didn’t want people to know where I was (other than close family and friends I felt safe with). For once in my life I wanted to control over who knew my business. I wasn’t ashamed, I just wanted to focus on my recovery and not what people thought of me. I just didn’t want to be the topic of gossip as they lined up for bagels on a Sunday morning. (My family was already on the ‘front page’ as my parents separated and divorced after 39 years of marriage and there was a lot of speculation as to why — I needed my time to heal from that too). We told out friends we were off to sleep school as DD wasn’t sleeping very well and we were there longer than the usual five-day admission as she was premature and needed additional support with sleeping and settling.

 

This photo was taken at a friends wedding the day before I was admitted to the mother infant unit in a psych facility. (L-R) My husband Seon, our daughter Orli and my mask. The name Orli means ‘my light’ in Hebrew. If only I knew how appropriate this was going to be when we named her.

Eighteen months following my admission and well and truly on my road to recovery, I discovered #PPDChat on Twitter – a wonderful circle of mums that came together to share our ups and downs openly (without any judgment), honestly and with an outpouring of love I had never experienced before in the online community. Some of us were in the trenches, some were climbing out and some at the top helping to pull up those below. I started participating in discussions, joined groups (BAPPD – the baby after PPD Survivor Sisters) under a pseudonym – Not Just About Wee – as I didn’t want anyone to know who I was. I have always maintained and still do, that it was never about feeling ashamed of having Postpartum Mood Disorder (PMD), I just wanted to be able to be completely open and honest and feel safe and I wasn’t sure I could do that with people knowing who I was.

What if I had known the person I was chatting to in real life? Would they start telling everyone I knew my story? That wasn’t fair. It was my story to tell – if I wanted to tell it. I was so protective of myself and my (nuclear) family and was adamant I didn’t want everyone knowing my business. I just wanted my own space and privacy to start/continue my journey of recovery.

I was extremely mindful about how I was perceived in the online community by remaining anonymous and not revealing my identity. No one ever asked my name – there was a kind a respectful understanding of someone wanting to remain anonymous. I was never asked to divulge who I was. Despite this, at times, I still felt dishonest by not being completely transparent.

I ‘came out’ to my #PPDChat mamas when the FaceBook support page was created. I felt a great sense of freedom, honesty and truth finally disclosing my real identity. My pseudonym was my virtual mask and I was finally ready to take it off. I no longer cared who knew who I really was. I was sure no one knew me anyway, so it was another way I could ease myself into be open within my community and extended social circle.

The series on Postpartum Progress was the first time I had ever told my story in full disclosure. I stripped myself completely bare for all to see. There were some things in there that I had never told my husband or closest friends. Some of the thoughts I had in the eye of the storm had been revealed in group therapy (with the tidal wave of guilt that accompanied it), however I never really discussed the details of my hell unless I felt completely safe and where I was certain judgment would not be present.

I had spent the previous two years feeling safe on the #PPDChat Support page on FaceBook and various other support groups (e.g. for my sons medical condition). I contributed, I shared stories, offered advice, support and friendship and was unashamedly a recovered mad sad mummy. It wasn’t until my BAPPD sisters and I decided to tell our story that I had to really think about whether I could share my story openly for the world to see. After many days of soul-searching I decided that I wanted share my voice. I wanted to offer hope. I wanted to remove the stigma and the shame of all PMD’s. I wanted to shout from the rooftops ‘this is not forever’. If by my words I could console and comfort only one mother, it would all be worth it.

I was proud of the work I did with my BAPPD Survivor Mamas, however as soon as I posted the first days series on my personal FaceBook newsfeed I immediately felt exposed, fragile and vulnerable – now everyone knew my story and I would be talked about – good or bad, it didn’t matter.

I received lots of wonderful, uplifting and heartfelt messages of support from people who I don’t often interact with on FaceBook both on my newsfeed and in private messages. This made me feel proud in a way I had not prepared myself for. It was truly heartwarming and encouraging and I knew I had made the right decision by opening up. I’m still allowing myself to feel exposed because I am, but I’m working on not caring!

I hoped by sharing my story would help remove the shame associated with any PMD generally and also within the Jewish community. Also it was me sharing my story so nothing could be taken out of context, nothing could be made up, no details could be sensationalized because they were my words. I was able to be in control of the message that went out, which for me has been a huge accomplishment.

I’m not aware of anyone in the Melbourne Jewish community that has suffered from any sort of PMD. And I know lots of people. And they/their partners had given birth. It is just not discussed and this just baffles me. Still to this day when a mother you know attends a baby sleep clinic the assumption is that the mother is struggling with the lack of sleep and it’s the baby that needs help to sleep and settle. There is nothing wrong with the mother and she definitely isn’t suffering with any Postpartum Mood Disorder.

If I’m being truthful, it really doesn’t matter about my background, my upbringing, my religion or anything. Postpartum Mood Disorders (PMD’s) are still not talked about in our community, in most communities and it’s as though the problem doesn’t exist. I find this extremely sad and disheartening.

I am not going to say that everything happens for a reason as I believe things just happen because they happen. There is no reason I got my PMD over the girl next door. It’s what I am doing about having and surviving from my PMD that matters. I would like to think that sharing my story will start the dialogue and get people sharing, talking, listening, helping and loving so that the shame and stigma of having PPD diminishes and one day is no longer. I want to arm expectant mums, new mums and experienced mums with information about PMD’s – and it’s lack of religious and social discrimination – that help is available and recovery is possible. Most importantly, I wish to impart the message of hope to every mother, no matter what race or creed.


Having another baby after your PPMD/PNMD group – register your interest

Hi everyone,

As you know while I was pregnant with Flynn I was part of an amazing group of Survivor Mamas called the ‘baby after PPD‘ group. This group of Survivor Mamas were a much needed support during my pregnancy & in the first six months of Flynn’s life – the nine weeks in hospital & the months following as we constantly worried about his feeding & weight gain.

I’m about to help out some Mamas who are thinking of having a baby after their PPMD, to start a FaceBook support group & am shouting out to anyone who wishes to join up. The group will be completely private so that only those in the group will be able to view your comments or posts.

The group will be supporting each other on various topics including staying on/coming off medication while trying to conceive & during your pregnancy*, ways to prepare yourself for the postnatal/partum period, action plans for the postnatal/partum period, preparing your toddler for their new sibling, anxieties relating to your pregnancy & postnatal/partum period, setting up support systems for when the baby arrives etc. We will also be asking those that have managed to have a better postnatal/partum experience after their PPMD to share their wisdom & insights in order for the group members to get both real life examples as well as the proof that having a better experience is possible.

This is my way of paying it forward as the support I received was invaluable. Thanks Amber for starting up our group back then & the lifeline it provided me.

If you’re interested in joining the group, please fill in your details below or email me at yuz@notjustaboutwee.com & we’ll contact you when we’re up & running.

 

* We are not medical experts or medically trained in any way when it comes to discussing medications, dosages, weaning or staying medicated during your pregnancy. We will be offering support in whatever decision you make in consultation with your OB, midwife, GP or physician.

Things I’m afraid to tell you – my open letter to my daughter

There are a group of bloggers who are all banding together & participating in a series of posts called “Things I’m Afraid to Tell You”. The TIATTY movement was inspired by a post from Jess Constable of Make Under My Life & Ez of Creature Comforts. If you’d like more information on the TIATTY movement, you can read Jess’ interview with Laura Rossi from the Huffington Post. You can also visit Robin at Farewell Stranger to read other TIATTY posts as well. All these women are truly amazing & inspirational & I’m so very honoured to be part of this movement.

This is an open letter to my daughter, Orli, who will be four this September. (The name Orli means ‘my light’ in Hebrew).

Dear Orli monkey/muppet,

As you read this letter, please remember this: You are so very loved. You were wanted & you were planned. I love & adore you more than words could ever convey. You bring me joy each & every day & there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You make me so completely proud & I’m so very lucky that you chose me to be your mum.

I ask you from the depths of my being to remember that what I’m about to tell you is not your fault. It’s no ones fault. It just happened, & I’m a better person for it. So please don’t get too caught up in the how & why because, well, because it just was.

When I was pregnant with you I wasn’t being very honest myself with how I was feeling. I know that every pregnant first time mum has certain trepidations & anxieties about having a baby – about having it be completely dependent on you for the first year & a half (at least), about the sleepless nights, about the changes in you & your partners life & your relationship, about staying home with a baby & not going to (paid) work every day, about giving up a career (or at least stalling it), about having less disposable income, about saving more, about making more decisions on a daily basis & also for the long-term decisions to be made i.e. schools etc. Well, I had all of those thoughts & feelings, but also a few more too.

We had a lot going on in our lives during your pregnancy – my job was extremely stressful & I was working really long hours with management that didn’t seem to care that I was throwing up in the bathroom several times a day, excusing myself from client meetings to get air & generally feeling crap. I was covering for someone while they were on long sick leave & they decided to fire my resource, so I was pretty much doing my job, covering for someone & taking back everything I had delegated my subordinate to do. I also had a miscarriage before falling pregnant with you so I was nervous about getting too excited about you too early in case I lost you as well. I couldn’t wait to get pregnant again as we wanted you so much.

During my pregnancy with you, your Zaida’s (your Daddy’s Daddy) wasn’t very well. He’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a little while before Daddy & I got married & was having a difficult time while I was pregnant. Having said that though, he made it to see your first birthday which was special beyond words, but I worried that he might not have ever met you which was so heartbreaking & I didn’t want that to be. But I think on top of the work issues & your Zaida being unwell, the major stress I had while I was pregnant with you was that my parents (your Saba & Omi) spilt up after being married for 39 years. It came as a massive shock for me. I could see that they were no longer happy, but I never thought they would actually end their marriage. I was first told about it the week of my miscarriage, but chose to push everything & anything I felt about it under the preverbal carpet & focus on getting pregnant again whilst grieving the loss of your sibling.

And all of this leads me to why I wasn’t being honest with myself during your pregnancy. My focus was on having a baby, on starting my own family & no longer being an extension of my parents. Work didn’t matter, because I was leaving (although I was miserable each day I went), I avoided anything & everything to do with my parents because I was having a baby & that was all that mattered. I figured it was their crap & I was old enough not to be affected by their separation. I was pretty down & extremely anxious but I just kept on thinking that once you arrived my life would be complete & joy would fill my days so that nothing else mattered.

You decided to come at 36weeks. You arrived just after midnight & were taken straight away to the special care nursery for observation because you were early & so very little & I first held you (properly) about twelve hours later. You weighed 2.025kgs & were a spitting image of your Daddy. I’d love to be able to tell you that the day of your birth was the most exciting, amazing & awe inspiring day of my life. But sadly it wasn’t.

So this is where I’m going to start sharing with you all those things that I’m afraid to tell you.

* I had an out of body experience during your birth & was looking down on myself. I started thinking (whist pushing you out) that I didn’t want to have a baby. My life was good & I didn’t want it to change.

* We were separated after the birth & I was glad of this because I was so scared & wasn’t ready to meet you.

* I felt so disconnected to you after the birth & when I first held you there wasn’t that overwhelming sense of love & attachment that people talk about or happen in the movies. I felt numb.

* Daddy went with you to the special care nursery after you were born & all I could think of was that he loved you more than me & I wasn’t important anymore & was replaced.

* You stayed in hospital after I was discharged & I was relieved as I wasn’t ready to take you home.

* I didn’t enjoy breastfeeding you – I preferred to express & bottle feed you even though it was much harder work. Much harder. (And expressed for the first eight weeks of life). And when I said I preferred to bottle feed you, well, I actually meant I didn’t enjoy feeding you at all, because all you did was scream at me. I actually preferred when Daddy fed you so I wouldn’t have to.

* When you got home all you did was cry. You were so unsettled & when you finally fell asleep, I dreaded you waking up.

* I had no confidence as your Mother.

* I was completely overwhelmed by all the information I was getting about what was best for you, what was right, what was wrong & the good & the bad way of doing things. Every midwife had a different way of latching you onto my boob, every person I spoke to had conflicting advice – it was just all too much & I found it so hard to trust my own instincts & do what I felt was best. My head was a jumble of too much information & not enough clarity.

* Life was so much easier without you.

* I resented you – for not sleeping, for not allowing me to sleep, for being completely dependent on me, for the constant crying day & night, for making me have you & for putting my career on hold, for coming early & robbing me of my last four weeks of maternity leave & for not having the balloons & flowers that other hospital rooms had (we told people not to visit as you were in the nursery & they weren’t allowed to go in). I was crying all the time, I was so angry & miserable & your Daddy & I fought all the time in which was so testing on our relationship.

* I wanted to run away from home. I thought you & Daddy would be better off without me.

* I wanted my life back.

* I resented the fact that my role in life had changed. Just because I was now a mother, I was also the homemaker now too.

* I couldn’t understand why people ruined their lives & had children. And I certainly wasn’t going to do it again.

* I pretended to love & adore you in public & socially, but I was lying to both them & myself.

* I hated coming home after being out for a while as I knew it was going to just be groundhog day & I hated every minute of it.

* I wanted to have you adopted out because I was sure there was another family that would be able to take better care of you. And what I mean by ‘family’, I mean Mother.

* I wasn’t able to eat, sleep or do any menial daily tasks as I could before I had you. It was as though you made me miserable even though these tasks had nothing to do with you.

* I wondered what would happen if you feel off the change table or if I let you fall into the corner of the coffee table. I thought it, although I knew I wouldn’t act upon it.

* I was so very very sad & never thought I would ever be happy again.

* I hated the mornings because it meant that my day was going to be the same as the day before & the day before that. Actually, the days weren’t separated at all – my life just felt like one long day.

* My intrusive thoughts were so overpowering & on loop. I blamed myself for you being unsettled (it turned out you had a diary intolerance & I was craving milk & was drinking it all the time), everything was my fault, if I went out for a bit without you I usually came home to you screaming so obviously it was because you were punishing me. It took me a long time to turn the volume of that self-talk down.

* Overall, I regretted having you.

Orli monkey, the reason why these are the things I’m afraid to tell you is because I feel ashamed about the way I felt about you, the way I behaved when you were a baby & the way I, in my mind, mistreated you. I’m embarrassed because I could handle such difficult tasks at work but when it came to a baby, to my baby, to my newborn that only needed feeding, bathing & changing, I was completely incapable of functioning normally & was anxious about every.little.thing. You were completely innocent of everything I felt or thought at the time yet were integral to why I was thinking & feeling all those things. I need to remind you, that none of this was your fault. It would make me so very sad if even for a millisecond you thought it was. And what’s more, please don’t ever judge me for this because it’s not something I chose or would have ever chosen to have gone through.

I know I had some of these thoughts because I was a first time mum & overwhelmed with an unsettled baby. I also knew I had these thoughts because I was just so very very tired. But mostly I had these thoughts as I was suffering with a mental illness, more specifically, a postpartum (postnatal) mood disorder. It was confirmed ‘officially’ when you were seven weeks old & at eights weeks of age we went to a mother baby unit at a psychiatric clinic. You’ve heard me talk about ‘the nuthouse’, but I really think we need to call it our lifeline, because that’s what it was for our family. I was put onto special medication to help my mind level itself out & had lots of groups with other mums that had my issues (or similar) & the fog slowly lifted & I was started to be able to be your Mummy & not just your Mother. It took another few months until I felt better, but it was really when you were about a year old that I started feeling like myself again.

People always comment to me that you’re such a happy little girl & that when you smile your eyes sparkle. I have to be honest with you, as much as this comment makes me proud, it also triggers a sadness in me which I fear will haunt me for the rest of my life. You see, I thought that my ambivalence, numbness & disinterest in you in the first few months of your life was going to ruin you forever. I have proof now that it’s not the case & that our relationship doesn’t bare the scars of that time, however, the overwhelming fear of its possibility will never be forgotten or minimised by me.

My little angel – you have taught me more than I ever imagined I could learn from a little person. I now get why people have babies & I also why they have more than one. And so we did. You have a little brother. And the way you love & care for him is beautiful it makes me think we’ve done ok.

I’ve spent a long time trying to be ok with people knowing about my postpartum mood disorder (PPMD) as well as trying to not care what they think of me having it, being admitted to the nuthouse or being medicated or whatever. But, what I haven’t worked on & is how I’ll feel one day when YOU know all about it. It’s one thing for me to share my story because it happened to me, but, this also happened to us. I hope you continue to grant me permission to talk openly about this as it’s the only way to diminish the stigma associated with PPMD’s. I’m also passionate about the need to increase it’s awareness to ensure no one suffers in silence or alone & so that all mothers with any PPMD know that help is out there & recovery is possible.

Monkey, those are the things I’m afraid to tell you. What I’m not afraid to tell you & never will be is that I love & adore you forever & ever & you will always be the light that brought me back from the dark.

Love always,

Mama xoxo





ForGIVEness as posted on James & Jax

First posted on James & Jax

I really struggle with the notion of forgiveness. I cling on to my anger & resentment like toddler does with their beloved comfort toy. I take my anger & resentment with me everywhere I go & would never ever consider parting with it as it’s become my protective shield not allowing anymore pain in, as well as repelling the potential for future hurt. The negativity I harbour has also become the flint that ignites all my excuses to forgive whomever or whatever. And so the cycle continues & I go nowhere fast.

I understand the notion of forgiveness & can see how others can forgive, but somehow I’m still unable to apply this to my own life. I know that by being angry & holding a grudge helps shield me from future hurt but also chips away at my overall happiness, however I suppose you need to weigh up the value you put on certain things that have happened & if they don’t threaten your contentment & safety then forgiveness has the potential to be easy. I also know that just because they/you have forgiven someone or something it doesn’t mean you will ever forget what happened. Forgiveness & forgetfulness are mutually exclusive & seldom go hand in hand.

What do I need to do to forgive someone? Can I find a template on Google to learn how to do this? Is this something that can take a long time, because I’m really impatient. Is there a right way to forgive someone? How does it feel? Will I ever be able to let this person back into my life again?

I know that forgiveness can be simple. For example, when Orli is rude or naughty & apologises to me forgiveness is simple. Forgiveness can also be incredibly difficult. I can’t ever see myself forgiving my third grade teacher for calling me stupid in front of the class as it affected my confidence & self-esteem for many years. I know my memories of this event are through the eyes & emotional maturity of my seven/eight yr old self, but even if this happened today it would be just as hurtful & impacting.

The word forgive has many definitions, one of them being ‘to grant a pardon’. Simple isn’t it really? Oh, you did something completely hurtful to me , no worries, I shall grant you this pardon to absolve yourself of all responsibly. Yeah, I don’t think so. This definition also reminds me of the Kings & World Leaders that pardon criminals or the innocently accused of a life behind bars. I see this type of pardon as ‘letting the person go’. I’m not sure I want people to get away with hurting my feelings or mistreating me. Why should they go about their life without ever accepting responsibility of their actions? Maybe it should read, ‘to grant yourself a pardon from allowing that person from affecting you any longer’.

See it’s complicated. And not easy.

When looking at the word ‘forgiveness’, the word ‘give’ is smack bang right there in the middle. How is it that I’ve never seen that before? Have I been blinded by my anger & resentment? I think so. Simply put then, forgiveness is a gift we’re all able to provide ourselves. The word itself has given me a tool to move forward with. If I can change the way I think about & feel about forgiveness, then perhaps, I’ll be able to forgive those that have either hurt me or been apathetic towards me & be free of holding onto useless & wasted energy & no longer give myself the excuses to remain stuck.

I now see forgiveness as a means to provide myself with permission to start, stop, move on or whatever I need to do for myself in order to curb the anger & resentment & living a fuller & enriching life with more room for love & hope. It won’t be easy as I’ve got a lot of hang ups to work through, but at least I’ve got something to start with. Now that the word ‘give’ stands out in the word forgiveness, I owe it to myself & my family to ‘give’ it a go.

Source: http://andrewschultz.com/daily-drive-forgiveness-friday-challenge/

To the postpartum depression moms suffering in silence as posted in Postpartum Progress

I have reposted many articles from Postpartum Progress here as I feel that offer both insight & support to those those suffering from a Postnatal/postpartum Mood Disorder (PMD), those that have had a baby after surviving from a PMD & also to partner that are supporting their partner suffering from with a PMD.

This post would have to be one of the BEST descriptions of a mother with a PMD that I’ve ever read. I didn’t write it, but I may as well have. They were not my words, but most definitely my thoughts. Please read this & share it with anyone you know who is an expectant mum, new mum or any mum really that has a young child or toddler.

Warning: For those of you that are currently suffering any forms of a PMD, this post may be triggering to you. If you proceed & start struggling, please head straight over to #PPDChat support page on FB where comfort is only a ‘post’ button away. If you think you need help, please call up your local GP & make an appointment immediately so that you can get the help you need.

http://postpartumprogress.com/to-the-postpartum-depression-moms-suffering-in-silence