by Alison

Alison's daughter was born eight years ago after a difficult labor and delivery.

Things were difficult almost right from the beginning. I was denied medication throughout my labour. I felt like I didn't have any control over what was happening and I was being told how and when I would have my baby. I suffered a fourth-degree extension (a severe vaginal tear) during the delivery and only then was I was given a morphine IV while they were stitching me up.

I spent my first Mother's Day in the hospital. By that evening, I was in tears because I couldn't cope with trying to breastfeed and with feeling pressured to bathe, feed and change my daughter on schedule. After an unsuccessful episode with an electric breast pump, and fearing there wasn't enough time to bathe my daughter before she went to sleep, I was reassured by a kind nurse that tomorrow would still come if my baby wasn't bathed that night. She told me that I just had the "baby blues".

Things got worse when I got home. I had a very wakeful baby who was quite unhappy when she was awake. I got very little sleep and as a result, every time I was awakened during the night I would get extremely angry and yell at my husband. I would put more pressure on myself that I wasn't doing a good job. I felt extremely inadequate and self-conscious of myself as a Mum. I felt totally disorganized, the house was a mess, breastfeeding wasn't as easy as everyone said it was, and the baby wouldn't take a bottle from my husband.

I felt trapped. I found it extremely difficult to get out of the house. I felt isolated. I thought I was the worst mother in the whole world and I felt sorry for my daughter that she had me for a mother. I felt she was being cheated out of a good Mum and therefore would have a lousy life. I come from a dysfunctional family and have lived with the results of that. It was extremely important for me to be a perfect parent, and provide the perfect family. In my eyes, I was a failure.

I had anger and sadness at the loss of my perfect idyllic home life with my baby. Nothing was the way I expected it would be. I had no immediate bonding with my baby. I remember distinctly not liking her very much in the middle of the night. That also made me feel guilty. I didn't think that anyone else felt that way.

I was filled with "shoulds". I never trusted my instincts; I thought everyone else knew what was best for my baby. I would trust anyone's opinion except my own. The public health nurse made me feel like I was a bad Mum too. I couldn't get the baby to nurse for any more than five minutes a side, ever! I was told that meant she wasn't getting the hindmilk and her brain wouldn't develop. More guilt!

I saved most of my anger for my husband. I guess that was because I knew I couldn't take it out on my daughter. He put up with a lot. I would call him at work telling him how depressed I was, how tired I was, how badly I wanted him to be home. I watched the clock until he walked in the door. If he was a minute late, I was furious. My husband had a hard time understanding why I wasn't happy. We had planned for a long time to have this baby. We wanted this baby more than anything. I didn't understand it either. I felt helpless. I felt gross, overweight, ugly and exhausted.

When my daughter was four months old, I was feeling consumed by the anger and the sleep deprivation. I finally broke down in my doctor's office and asked for help. She recommended counselling and gave me the number for PPPSS. My first phone call to the Society was an eye-opener. I am NOT a bad Mum; it IS a tough job; I DO deserve to get more sleep; I am NOT crazy; and I am NOT alone. I cried all through that phone call and for a long time after it was an enormous relief. I talked about my fears about screwing up my daughters future, and was told that by reaching out for help, I WAS being a good Mum.

I used the support group to cry and talk about my feelings of anger, sadness and anxiety. It was the only place I could talk about these things because I was afraid to tell anyone else that I was depressed. I thought they would think I was weird or, worse, that I didn't love my child.

Things slowly got better but not without a lot of hard work. I started to identify patterns such as when my back was sore, I would get angry and yell at my husband; and that my anxiety increased before a visit from the in-laws.

I started to do angerwork to safely release my built-up anger. I started asking for my needs to be met. I learned to take breaks, which not only helped me, but also helped me to be a better mother and wife. I learned to say NO when I felt NO.

My daughter is now eight years old (with a VERY well developed brain) and I am enjoying her tremendously. I realize now that bonding for me was not an instantaneous event, but continues to build every day. People say to me, "You're so lucky, she's so well adjusted." It wasn't luck at all. It was a constant difficult job.

I am pleased to add that my marriage is still intact and improving all the time.