All posts by evecanavan

Postpartum Psychosis survivor. Maternal Mental Health Warrior. Mother to wild child, mouth of a sailor and hips from butterville.

I have slid down the postnatal depression snake. How do I climb the recovery ladder ? How and where to access help for maternal mental illness.

It’s been quite the few years for perinatal mental illness. From the EastEnders postpartum psychosis Christmas storyline , the first ever UK Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week in May to the #mumstakeover event happening late November on the BBC, maternal mental health are the words on everyone’s lips. Which is wonderful.

But for us mums who have suffered or are suffering, it’s on our minds all the time. Being pregnant or having a baby and feeling like a shadow of your former self, has affected women for thousands of years . It’s with us all the time and it’s with us until we recover.

I had postpartum psychosis and anxiety and all I wanted to do was recover. I had my son and fell into a dark deep pit of hell. A doom watch came over me and convinced me my baby was a mistake, I hallucinated about being buried alive and I became so ill, I could see absolutely no way out from the hell I was in. It took almost 2 months to get me the correct treatment and when I emerged from my illness, I knew I needed to use my experience to help others. And this starts with empowering mums with knowledge about their symptoms and how to get help.

Whether you are at the start of what you believe to be or have been diagnosed as having a perinatal mental illness, mid-way through, where the horror of the start may be being chipped away by a sprinkling of golden good days here and there, or nearing the end where the fog has almost cleared, you can see the brightness of life before you with your baby and a smile allows itself to come through and the relief is feeling you want to bottle up forever, you need help and support.

And there is help and support available, provided by people who know what they are talking about and who know what may help you. Everyone’s experiences are different – whether its depression , anxiety, psychosis, OCD, feeling full of sadness , feeling full of fear , feeling alone – but what makes help great is it can be adjusted to help you in your situation.

It may feel like it but you aren’t alone. And it may not feel like it, but you will get better. The whizzy medical bods who like looking at graphs and number porn say that ‘1 in 7 women in the UK will be affected by problems with their mood during pregnancy and afterwards’. All these feelings tend to be termed under the Postnatal Depression in the media etc. but they shouldn’t be – not all the feelings are related to depression. So, the medical bods put these feelings under one banner and call it the perinatal period.

I am not a doctor. I have no letters after my name that signifies I’m a medical brainbox and I can’t diagnose you. I am a mum who has recovered and thought my only way away from my feelings of utter despair was to not be here anymore. But I am. I’m here and I am well and you will be too.

So I may not have a medicalology but what I can do is point you in the direction of good, accredited, proper, real, and decent, not made on the Christmas market type sources of support that can help you.

So, ready? Have a look below and we can go through symptoms and tell you where you can get help. I promise you are going to be ok.

I feel like a sack of potatoes have been thrown at me and I can’t get up. Does it have to be a big sack of potatoes or can it be just a little one? What do I do?

Whether your symptoms are classed as mild, moderate or severe, if they are making you feel bad then it’s bad and you need help. From one end of the spectrum, you don’t need to be psychotic to deserve help. I see lots of women say ‘but I didn’t think I was ill enough’. You’re ill enough if it’s affecting your life. Whether it’s made you feel teary at the exhaustion of being woken up 27 times a night or hallucinate that your baby is God, (or like me, make you take your clothes off and run into the road while clinging to your hubbys ankles), you are woman and you need to roar.

Roar that you need and deserve help. And if you feel you cant, hopefully some of the things in this post will help you take that brave first step.

Perinatal mental health support in medical terms is a bit of a postcode lottery. In one place you might have an amazing dedicated team who fall asleep with the NICE guidelines on mental illness after a baby on their pillow and have a Mary Poppins handbag of amazing treatments to help you. In another place, you might find yourself in front of GP who doesn’t look at you when you pluck up the courage to go and see them and thinks Postnatal Depression is a modern day concoction of middle class mummies who want to have it all but can’t. And then you may find an online doctor who has bought their degree via the University of Con-ville , will only give you treatment options if you buy their book and who suggest a dab of apple cider vinegar on your temples will ease the anxiety away. Avoid these people, stick with malt vinegar and only use it to make your chips taste nice.

Someone once messaged me to say the reason I got ill was because I ate bread. I was unaware eating a product made out of flour, yeast and water and baked in the oven could make me hallucinate , run down the road with no clothes on and fill the garden with juice extractors. Because it’s not true. And I follow a low carb diet, so I seriously doubt a multi seeded sandwich roll resulted in me ending up in a psychiatric unit.

So please continue to eat your cheese sandwiches – you have had a baby and need energy.

For details on mental health in pregnancy and after birth and the symptoms and signs of perinatal mental health problems, please have a look at the links I post. These are proper decent medical pages and will give you good info.

For a good overview of Perinatal Mental Illness, the NHS website below is good and isn’t overwhelming. Maybe bookmark it on your phone:  

The Baby Blues

Ok. So , you come home from hospital and alongside having a sore fandango, wearing a lilo in your pants to soak up your postpartum bleeding and being unable to do a poo for fear of your stitches coming apart, you also feel a little bit sad, weepy and very very tired. Doctors tend to call this initial feeling the Baby Blues.

The Association Of Postnatal Illness say that ‘after the birth of a baby about half of all mothers suffer a period of mild depression called the blues’ and Babycentre say 8 out of 10! In normal terms – this means most mums then. And most mums I know have experienced teariness, exhaustion, and feelings of being overwhelmed, but these feelings pass very quickly and usually need no medical support.

Symptoms of the Blues

– Emotional and upset when they have the blues and they cry for no particular reason.

– Tired and lethargic

– Anxious and Tense 

– Difficulty sleeping

Why do I feel like this?

Apparently its bloody hormones. GRR to them. Your body has just produced a baby and it all goes a bit haywire and your hormones start arguing with each other and have a minor falling out. Your boobs are filling with milk and your lovely home is now filled with a crying baby and cards are arriving and you can’t wee without it burning and it’s all just tooooo much.

But….this particular falling out doesn’t last and your hormones sign a peace agreement. The medical wonders say if you have the blues, these feelings may last for a few hours or, at most, for a few days and then they disappear and don’t need to be worried about. If they last longer than this though, seek medical help as it could mean something more serious is happening.

Antenatal/Prenatal Depression and Anxiety

As the super helpful NCT website says, antenatal depression can rear its ugly head while you are with child. Said baby is still in womb, giving you piles. You could have just found out you are pregnant and instead of feeling like those mums on Facebook who post a pic of their wee stained stick with the words ‘2 weeks pregnant’ while jumping up and down for joy with flowers round their head , you think jeepers, this does not make me feel spritely at all.

Or you could sail through said pregnancy, get to 7 month and suddenly get walloped in the head by the depression dodge ball which you haven’t dodged at all. It’s knocked you down and you find it hard and almost impossible to get-up.

This is a real illness. Don’t feel shame because being pregnant is tinged with sadness – antenatal depression and anxiety are becoming recognized and your GP can help.

Birth Trauma and PTSD

Giving birth can be traumatic but our antenatal classes con us into thinking if we master how to give birth on a bed made out of tofu and meditate ourselves into an orgasmic state, then we will simply feel like we are giving birth to a raindrop, hum the pain away and spend the next 20 years talking about how you could give birth every day. Which is beautiful.

But for some, birth isn’t that straightforward and can be a terrifying, anxiety inducing experience which leaves a big emotional mark on the mum. The Birth Trauma Association say that ‘when we talk of birth trauma, we mean Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) that occurs after childbirth. We also include those women who may not meet the clinical criteria for PTSD but who have some of the symptoms of the disorder’.

The BTA outline characteristic features of PTSD as including:

-An experience involving the threat of death or serious injury to an individual or another person close to them (e.g. their baby).

-A response of intense fear, helplessness or horror to that experience.

-The persistent re-experiencing of the event by way of recurrent intrusive memories, flashbacks and nightmares. The individual will usually feel distressed, anxious or panicky when exposed to things which remind them of the event.

-Avoidance of anything that reminds them of the trauma. This can include talking about it, although sometimes women may go through a stage of talking of their traumatic experience a lot so that it obsesses them at times.

-Bad memories and the need to avoid any reminders of the trauma, will often result in difficulties with sleeping and concentrating. Sufferers may also feel angry, irritable and be hyper vigilant (feel jumpy or on their guard all the time).

Birth Trauma / PTSD is very real. Giving birth isn’t a bed of roses and can be an upsetting and difficult experience and you shouldn’t feel any shame if you are experiencing it. It can put women off having more much wanted children and that’s a horrible feeling to experience.

The BTA have a really helpful link on how and why you should access support here

For more information see

Perinatal OCD

Sometimes people call this Maternal OCD. You don’t hear much about this but you should – it’s not as rare as people think and can be distressing. The RCpsych page has piles of very good info so please take a look but as a quick view, RCpsych say the main symptoms are as follows:

  1. INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS. I have put this in big old letters as these thoughts plague LOADS OF MUMS BUT NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THEM. These are basically thoughts or images that keep coming into your mind. These are sometimes called obsessions by docs. They can be very upsetting and you can visualize things you don’t want to see. These are more common than people realize and when I spoke of mine, I found others had them also. Remember, however distressing the thoughts or visions, please don’t hold back from telling medical professionals about them. To treat you properly, they need to know your thoughts and feelings. And I guarantee, you won’t be the first to talk about these kind of symptoms to them.


So – let’s talk about intrusive thoughts. This may be triggering, so if you need to stop reading, stop. This blog is for info to help you but if you feel like you can’t read anymore, then put your phone down and stop reading. You can always come back to this when you feel ready.

Ever had that feeling, as you are stood waiting for the 17.58 to Brighton, eating a Mars bar and reading about how to contour your cheeks like Kim Kardashian that you want to jump in front of a train as it zooms past? Yep? And you think, that’s a bit weird, of course I won’t jump in front of the train, and you finish said mars bar and the thought leaves your brain in a second.

When I was younger, I had thoughts of grabbing scissors and hacking my hair off. If I HAD DONE, I WOULD HAVE CRIED FOR 27 YEARS, but I found it hard to shake the feelings. I once chucked the scissors up in the air to put them on top of the cupboard but they just fell down on my head and then I got my husband to put them away as I was convinced if I had them, I would perform a bob on myself reminiscent of a 3 year old cutting out shapes – one side short, the other down to my knees and a fringe that is half way up my head performing the conga.

Well, imagine having these thoughts all the time. About your baby. ARGH. Scary isn’t it?

When you are pregnant, people throw advice at you. Your mum says she fed you on a concoction of evaporated milk and strained prunes when you announce you will be breastfeeding, your auntie says she put your cousin, in her pram, down the bottom of the garden with a fly net over her so she didn’t eat them as she screamed and the random lady in Costa tells you that you shouldn’t be eating a caramel shortbread if you want to have a boy. No one tells you however, that when you give birth, it is possible that your mind can fill with terrifying thoughts that will cover you like a black cloak and refuse to go.

I know of one woman who developed a deep fear of batteries being near her baby. She could not stop the thoughts of them exploding near her baby’s face and so she went around the house and took the batteries out of everything. Her mind was filled with horrible thoughts of her baby’s face being burned by batteries and this impacted on her life in so many ways – she didn’t accept toys from well-wishers that were battery operated, the remote controls were rendered useless and clocks stood at a standstill around the house. Her husband told her it was complete and utter madness to march around the house opening up radios and emptying batteries into the outside bin and her mother in law told everyone her grandsons mother wasn’t right in the head. How nice.

Some mums have visions of hurting their baby and refuse to pick up knives or go in the kitchen. They visualise dropping the baby on its head so avoid holding their baby.

The one that NO ONE DARES TO MENTION are the thoughts of a sexual nature. Mums I have supported or spoken to who have had these thoughts are deeply deeply distressed by them and absolutely won’t tell a health care professional about them – with the fear of their baby being removed from them and them being labelled a paedophile and put on the sex offenders register. They have told me that the thoughts just pop into their brain like a poison that won’t go away and totally grips them. They say they would sit in fear, unable to move with thoughts of “what if I actually do what is seeping through my brain? Am I actually capable of this? The fact that these awful awful thoughts and images won’t go is terrifying and disgusting me” and it makes them want to avoid their baby. They say they think , this is my baby, I love them and I want to protect them from any harm and I am thinking these thoughts , these thoughts of harming them in the worst possible way myself ? Does this mean I am going to do it? Should I even be here as their mummy? Should I go and take them out of the way of my harmful thoughts?

One mum told me she would have flashes of thoughts throughout the day, so much so, that she didn’t want to pick her baby up or change its nappy. She would say, why can’t I just be a normal mum? They make me think that I am evil and disgusting

These are deeply deeply distressing thoughts but I need to say this very clearly:

Thoughts of harming your baby do not mean in any way that you want to do this or will do. Quite the opposite in fact.

The charity Maternal OCD (who are absolutely utterly BRILLIANT) says ‘obsessions can be focused on anything from germs to symmetry. When OCD presents itself during motherhood, the responsibilities for the life and well-being of a helpless infant may be experienced as a chronic stress’ and lists some symptons as :

– Fear of contamination to the mother, child or anyone in contact with the child e.g. perceived risk of HIV, food poisoning

– intrusive thoughts of stabbing/hurting /dropping /touching the newborn baby


– Doubts that harm could come to child e.g. bottle steriliser not working

– Perfectionism e.g. everything around the house has to be a certain way

2) Anxiety – usually as a result of the thoughts. Then, thoughts or actions you keep repeating to try to reduce your anxiety. These are called compulsions.

The charity Maternal OCD says that ‘to try and eradicate the anxiety attached to the obsessions, mothers with OCD will act out rituals to ensure their child is safe and no harm will come to them. In fact, this makes the OCD worsen. Although the anxiety attached to the obsession reduces short-term it returns stronger and stronger. This means that potentially the mother is acting out rituals for a significant amount of her day’.

They list some examples of these below:

– Hyper vigilance when meeting new people or going to public toilets, this will include avoidance of touching other people, planning a day out around toilet breaks and using excessive wet wipes and hand sanitisers

– Hiding anything sharp around the house

– Constantly checking the gas is turned off, the petrol pump is working correctly

– Waking earlier than necessary and going to bed later than necessary to ensure the house is ‘just so’

– Constant reassurance seeking from friends, family members and maybe health professionals that the child is unharmed.

If you experience any of the symptoms, please tell your doctor. There is a great article at  which informs health care professionals on how to normalise intrusive thoughts for concerned parents. It states:

  • Intrusive thoughts or images of causing harm to one’s infant are common in the general population.
  • Experiencing the intrusive thoughts makes them no more likely to harm their infant intentionally than any other parent is to harm their own infant intentionally.
  • There is no need to avoid triggers or situations that give rise to the intrusive thoughts or images. Avoiding them actually tends to increase the frequency of the thoughts and/or images   

It also advises that “Intrusive thoughts of harming one’s baby are common among clinical and non-clinical samples alike. However, they may become more distressing and harder to cope with in mothers who are suffering from mental health problems. Such thoughts can be elicited through careful and sensitive questioning (especially emphasising to parents that these are common and do not mean that they will act on them).

Once parents are able to acknowledge and talk about these thoughts and appreciate that experiencing them is very common, they often diminish in significance and frequency. Where they persist, treatment for intrusive thoughts is available using standard cognitive behavioural techniques.”

So please take this as reassurance that it’s okay to open up to your doctor about your feelings.

And this is what you need to remember. Having these thoughts does not mean you will act on them. There are lots of treatments, from CBT to medications to support you through to recovery and help to minimise the thoughts. Maternal OCD have a whole page dedicated to treatment options and emphasizes how these symptoms are very treatable – .

Maternal OCD also have a great page on how to access help if you have Perinatal OCD and details both professional and peer support – please take a look .

You aren’t alone with these thoughts and there is help to get you through what is a very distressing time.

Some extra info pages on Perinatal OCD are below.

Postnatal Depression and Anxiety

Everyone knows the term Postnatal Depression or PND as its more commonly referred to but even though the term is known about, mums (and dads) feel a real sense of shame when admitting they think they are suffering. You don’t need to feel shame – mother/fatherhood is no picnic in those early days.

As a mum ,you may have just pushed a melon sized person out of your nether regions or had major surgery to evict them from your tummy, you can’t wee for fear of bursting your stitches , you can’t sit down because your stitches appear to have been too thoroughly done by what appears to be the local seamstress, if you have had a c section, it feel like you are going to break in half at any point, a river of blood is gushing out of you for 6 weeks, your boobs look like they have won the golden ticket to the playboy mansion , great auntie Vera wants to come and stay and help out for the first 3 weeks which is worse than the devil coming over to play with fire in the garden and your baby appears to have laughed in the face of evolution and doesn’t ever sleep. People say oh it’s the best thing ever isn’t it and you’re standing there with sick down your top and someone else’s poo under your fingernails and you think what the dickens , I feel awful. I feel like crying. FOREVER.

Symptoms and feelings like those listed below may go quickly like the baby blues, which I talked about earlier. But if they carry on, they could be leading to postnatal depression or anxiety.

What you must remember though throughout all of this is – you are a good mum, a lovely person, a god damn warrior. Social Services won’t swoop your baby away and thinking distressing things doesn’t mean you will act on them. You are going through a hard time and you can’t just snap out of it. At the moment you are in a hole but you will get out of it.

You aren’t awful. Don’t feel ashamed. You are a good mum.

I thought I wanted the baby to live next door and was using up three rolls of toilet paper a day because was am crying so much. Oh god, the tears. They started when my parents dropped us home from the hospital, I clad in DVT socks with legs the size of a squeezable orange carton and the realisation hit me that this baby was here forever and I was in charge of it forever. And the tears then didn’t stop for the next 7 weeks. Wahhhhh . This was a big first indicator that I wasn’t revelling in motherhood.

As the RCpsych pages say, PND or anxiety symptoms can look like these:





Appetite changes

Unable to enjoy anything

Loss of interest in sex

Negative and guilty thoughts

You might think that you are not a good mother or that your baby doesn’t love you

You may feel guilty for feeling like this or that this is your fault -You may lose your confidence

You might think you can’t cope with things.


Anxiety can be awful had a deep fear of my baby. The thought that he was now here forever filled me with such fear, that I felt like I was in a constant panic attack.

My doctor asked me if I felt like I wanted to flush the baby down the toilet – she could have phrased it a tad better but I was just very scared of him. I couldn’t dump him like a boyfriend I suddenly stopped liking and I couldn’t sell him like a flat that I had got bored with – he was here forever now and the fear of that consumed me . But my symptoms are only one experience.

Some anxiety symptoms are below – these again are taken from the RCpsych website.

You may feel like:

Your baby is very ill

Your baby is not putting on enough weight

Your baby is crying too much and you can’t settle him/her

Your baby is too quiet and might have stopped breathing

You have a physical illness

You will never get better

You may feel like you won’t ever not feel like this -You may be so worried that you are afraid to be left alone with your baby.

When you feel anxious, you may have some of the following:

Racing pulse

Thumping heart



Fear that you may have a heart attack or collapse.

Postpartum Psychosis

Action on Postpartum Psychosis says that ‘Postpartum Psychosis (PP) is a severe, but treatable, form of mental illness that occurs after having a baby. It can happen ‘out of the blue’ to women without previous experience of mental illness. There are some groups of women, women with a history of bipolar disorder for example, who are at much higher risk. PP normally begins in the first few days to weeks after childbirth. It can get worse very quickly and should always be treated as a medical emergency. Most women need to be treated with medication and admitted to hospital’.

I was one of those women .You may have heard of this illness for the first time since the soap EastEnders featured it as a major storyline. The charity Mind worked with the BBC to get the portrayal of the illness right, as did APP and myself and another mum, Kathryn Grant, been acted as consultants to the storyline and met with the researchers and actors to discuss our experience.

It is a scary illness – lots of varying symptoms as shown below – for me, I felt very scared of ‘something’. I hallucinated that I was floating and thought the sky was able to be ripped apart. I was terrified of being in the same room as my son and had bright flashes in front of my eyes. Again though, these are my symptoms. My friend spent a day thinking she was the President of North Korea which was terrifying enough in itself.

As they are the very best source of info on PP, here is APP’s list of symptoms: There are a large variety of symptoms that women with PP can experience. Women may be:

Excited, elated, or ‘high’. -Depressed, anxious, or confused / excessively irritable or changeable in mood.

Postpartum Psychosis includes one or more of the following:

-Strange beliefs that could not be true (delusions).  -Hearing, seeing, feeling or smelling things that are not there (hallucinations).  -High mood with loss of touch with reality (mania).  -Severe confusion.

These are also common symptoms:

 -Being more talkative, sociable, on the phone an excessive amount.  -Having a very busy mind or racing thoughts.  -Feeling very energetic and like ‘super-mum’ or agitated and restless.  -Having trouble sleeping, or not feeling the need to sleep.  -Behaving in a way that is out of character or out of control.  -Feeling paranoid or suspicious of people’s motives.  -Feeling that things are connected in special ways or that stories on the TV or radio have special personal meaning.  -Feeling that the baby is connected to God or the Devil in some way.

Treatment for PP

PP is classed as a medical emergency and if you suspect you have it or your wife, partner, daughter, sister or friend may have it, you need to take her to a GP or hospital. Mums and little’s are often treated together in specialist psychiatric mother and baby units so to avoid the separation of mother and baby, wherever possible, by joint admission. I went into a mother and baby unit. It was fab.My bed wasn’t chained to the wall and I wasn’t made to wear a straitjacket while watching the TV. It was safe, calm, warm and purposeful and it started my recovery.

I’ve written about my experience in the unit here which I hope you will take some comfort in .

Once discharged, the local specialized Perinatal Outreach and Community Psychiatric Team visited me every day at home.

Don’t be scared if you need to go into a mother and baby unit or see a perinatal team at home. They are Brillo-pads and will help you get better x

See for more info.

Suicidal thoughts

When you are feeling in such a way as described, suicidal thoughts may come into your head. It is very important here that if you feel like you are going to hurt or harm yourself and or attempt to take your life, you need to see a doctor right that very instant. Health Care Professionals are trained to deal with crisis situations.

Its ok to call the GP urgently and say you need to see a doctor and tell them why – It’s ok to go to casualty and tell them you are having these kinds of thoughts. You aren’t wasting their time. It’s ok to call your local mental health crisis team. If you don’t know their details, google crisis team and the area you live in and a number should come up.

All these things are more than ok – they are essential. You need and deserve help. You can and will get better. You deserve to be alive. People want and need you to be alive. You are a good person and you aren’t well. I reached the depths where I thought suicide was the only way out as I couldn’t see beyond my illness but there are services, medications, support networks that can help you recover and find your happy again.

If you are feeling like death is the only way out, you need urgent help. GP, Casualty, 999. Contact them.

The NHS has a very helpful page specifically for people who are experiencing suicidal thoughts. Take a look if you need to:

I want to get better from my perinatal mental illness – what should I do?

For all of the things listed above, it’s super important to seek help. There are lots of ways of doing this.

– Contact your midwife, doctor or health visitor and tell them you are worried that you may have a problem with your feelings during your pregnancy or after the baby is born. Perinatal means up to 12 months after your baby is born so even if your child isn’t a gurgling little baba anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t be suffering!

-Doctors are used to seeing mums with these symptoms. Most docs are fab, some, as is life, not so much so. Ask the receptionist who is nice, who has a kind ear and who won’t stare at a computer screen while you are with them. If it’s too much to say in person, write it down and pass it to the receptionist if you can.

– If you see a doctor as they are as useful as a chocolate condom, then book an appointment to see another doctor. You can see 7865 doctors if need be. You deserve to be listened to.

– If you are a friend or relative of the person who is unwell, you may have to encourage them to make the appointment and go with them as they may not be aware of, or believe that there is a problem.

Accessing help from Health Care Professionals

It’s really hard to open up to a doctor or health visitor about how you are feeling .So , if you haven’t yet told your doctor about your feelings since having your baby, this may be useful for you.

Dr Stephanie De Giorgio is a GP who suffered from PND herself. During the UK Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week, she ran an FB live session to tell people its okay to open up to their doctor, even if they have intrusive thoughts. Please take a look – it’s an incredibly useful session and Stephanie opens up about her own experience and shows you aren’t alone.

The Smile Group also have this great checklist you can complete and bring to the doctor should you not know what to say or how to say how you are feeling

Medicated and Mighty – what will get me better?

There are many effective treatments for perinatal mental health problems such as medication, therapy and support from charities. The vast majority of women make a good recovery. This is an illness like any other and it is vital that you receive help if you need it, so do not be afraid to ask for it.

Medication – sometimes you won’t need this, sometimes you will.

I thank the medication gods – I took so much at one point I was a human maraca but I got better. I’m still on a low dose now – I see meds like that song ‘Tequila, it makes me happy’. There is no shame in needing meds – they can help the awful fog in your head clear so you can focus on recovery. If you broke your leg you would wear a cast. Wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t roll down the street attempting to not land in a pile of dog poo because you thought you could pull yourself together, think happy thoughts and leg would magically be unbroken.

The charity Mind have a fab page on medication here which you may find useful to read .

Breastfeeding and Medication

If you are breastfeeding but need meds, that’s ok. There are lots of medications you can take while nursing. I was on anti-psychotics and anti-anxiety meds that were compatible with feeding and if you are wondering what meds are ok, or your GP isn’t sure, then the person to contact is Wendy Jones. Wendy is lovely. And super helpful.

I am part of a group called the Perinatal Mental Health Partnership and we ran the first ever UK Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week in May 2017. During the week, one of the main messages we wanted to give mums and families was to empower them with information on how to access support to help their recovery from maternal mental illness.

As one of the main areas of concern from mums is if they can take antidepressants if they are breastfeeding, so we made this little video with the help of Wendy ,which gives info on what anti-depressants you can take whilst nursing. It’s very good and informative and has helped over 15,000 mums!

Also, Wendy’s webpage is below and there is a tab with her contact details. If you are feeling too anxious to talk to Wendy, she is happy for you to send an email.

Let’s talk – therapy!

You don’t have to be a millionaire to go therapy and you don’t have to lay back on a sofa while someone with a clipboard nods while you are in a puddle of tears. Therapy is amaze balls. It can get to the root of why you are feeling the way you are and then help you develop coping strategies. I had CBT and EMDR therapy – which sounds ridiculous. – I had to follow a flashing light around the room to get over my trauma but it god damn worked. There are loads of different types of therapy so if offered to you, give it a whirl.

Again, the charity Mind have a great website on therapy

I wrote a blog on treatment options last year. Take a look

Sources of further help

Maternal OCD : A charity set up by mothers recovered from perinatal OCD, who can provide support via email, twitter and Skype. For further details please contact:

OCD Action : A charity providing a dedicated OCD helpline, email support and advocacy service. Contact details: 0845 3906232; email:

Association for Postnatal Illness The UK’s leading PND charity provides telephone helpline, information leaflets and a network of trained volunteers who have themselves experienced PND. Helpline: 020 7386 0868.

APP Association of Postpartum Psychosis offers support to those suffering Postpartum Psychosis and their families. APP are the specialists in this illness and for correct advice, please contact them.

Depression Alliance Tel: 020 7407 7584; email: Information, support and understanding for people who suffer with depression, and for relatives who want to help. Self-help groups, information, and raising awareness for depression.

Cry-sis Helpline: 08451 228669. Provides self-help and support for families with excessively crying and sleepless and demanding babies.

Family Action Tel: 020 7254 6251. Support and practical help for families affected by mental illness, including ‘Newpin’ services – offering support to parents of children under-5 whose mental health is affecting their ability to provide safe parenting.

Home Start Tel: 0800 068 6368. Support and practical help for families with at least one child under-5. Help offered to parents finding it hard to cope for many reasons. These include PND or other mental illness, isolation, bereavement, illness of parent or child.

National Childbirth Trust Helpline: 0300 330 0700. Support and information on all aspects of pregnancy, birth and early parenthood. Local groups and telephone helplines.

MAMA – The “Meet A Mum Association”   Created to try and help thousands of mothers who feel out of their depth, depressed or a little isolated when their babies are born Helpline 0845 120 3746

The Samaritans 24-hour helpline 08457 90 90 90 (UK) or 116 123 (Ireland); Email: Confidential emotional support for those in distress who are experiencing feelings of distress or despair, including suicidal thoughts.

Mind – Mental Health Charity

Sane – Mental Health Charity

Rethink – Mental Health Charity

Bipolar UK – Mental Health Charity

Tommys Tommy’s pregnancy information service provides information and resources about mental health in pregnancy

Tommys Midwifery-led pregnancy line is available for anyone worried about their mental health in pregnancy, or that of another (0800 0147 800).

Birth Trauma Association http://http// supports all women who have had a traumatic birth experience. It is estimated that, in the UK alone, this may result in 10,000 women a year developing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).They offer emotional and practical support to women and also their families. They can offer email support to mums suffering, for more information please see this link .

Mums Aid Mums Aid provides inclusive and accessible psychological therapies for mothers experiencing a broad spectrum of emotional and mental health difficulties during pregnancy or postnatally.

International Help – Postpartum Support International

Peer support 

Peer support can be incredible – talking to someone who has been through what you’re going through and got better can give you real hope. However, do check that if you are going to a peer support group, that they are properly safeguarded with trained staff and volunteers, who have access to clinical supervision and support for themselves.

Please don’t attend support groups being run by mums who are still unwell. It’s not safe. The groups below are a snapshot of what is available across the UK – let me know if you know of anymore.

Perinatal Mental Illness Peer Support Group if you would like to join a Facebook support group for perinatal illness, this group may be useful to you. The admin have Mental Health First Aid training and are recovered mums themselves

The Motherload If you would like to join a group on Facebook to be amongst supportive non-judgemental mums, then The Motherload could be beneficial

Association for Postnatal Illness Helpline: 020 7386 0868. Provides telephone helpline, information leaflets and a network of volunteers who have themselves experienced PND.

Cocoon Family Support The fantabulous Cocoon Family support is a London based charity. It supports those affected by postnatal depression, and mothers who are struggling to deal with difficult emotions before and after birth. They provide a safe and supportive environment where families can get together with others who may be feeling similar to themselves. They also provide a range of services to aid and support recovery. They are based in SE1, NW1, NW3 and NW6 and can be accessed by people across London and its borders.

The Smile Group The SMILE Group was co-founded by Natalie Nuttall and Ruth Eglin in 2011 after they both experienced PND and felt passionate about the need for parents to benefit from sustained peer support at a local level. They run support groups each week for mums in Cheshire East.

Macclesfield – every Friday, 10am to 12pm Congleton – every Wednesday, 10am to 12pm

Raindrops to Rainbows Run by the lovely Steph who is trained to provide support and advice, R2R provide peer support to mums to be and mums in the North East. They currently have five groups covering Teeside, County Durham and South Tyneside areas. The website has full details and there is a Facebook page.

Open House Nottingham Open House (OH) was founded by a group fab Mums in early 2012 with the aim of supporting those who are or have been affected by any psychological and emotional condition which has developed during pregnancy or during the postnatal period. These include antenatal depression, postnatal depression, anxiety & OCD. They run drop in groups in Nottingham and details are here .

Lotus Petal PND Support group run every other Monday 9.30-11am at Little Lions Children Centre in Essex. Run by Sarah, who is the nicest lady in the world, she welcomes any mum in Essex needing support. Contact details are on the Facebook page.

Juno Perinatal Mental Health Support Juno Perinatal Mental Health Support was founded in February 2015 by a group of mums in Edinburgh who all have personal experience of perinatal mental health difficulties. They are kind, lovely women. They support mums through Weekly peer support groups across the city where we offer advice and information One-to-one befriending through our outreach program Access a subsidised counselling service out with our groups with a trained professional. They run four groups and details are here

Bluebell Care Bluebell is a charity based in Bristol supporting mums, dads and families who are affected by antenatal or post-natal depression. They run regular, free groups Mums’ Comfort Zone, together with free creche provision, in South, North and Central/East Bristol. They prioritise the support we are able to provide (due to funding constraints) as follows: young parents from the Hartcliffe/Withywood/Bishopsworth area in South Bristol, parents from the Henbury/Brentry area in North Bristol and parents from St Pauls, Easton, Montpelier’ and Stokes Croft area in Central/East Bristol.

They also offer 1:1, informal, support via the Bluebell Buddy who can arrange to visit mums at home and/or in their local area for a cuppa and a chat. Dads can also access support through their Dads’ Zone group.

If you would like more information on their services please contact the lovely Ruth Jackson Telephone 07738628842 or Email

House of Light Offering hope and support for women affected by Postnatal, Antenatal Depression & Anxiety in Hull. Call: 0800 043 2031 or01482 580499 text: 07854 220790 email:

Mother for Mothers Support Group for mums in Bristol suffering from PND. Helpline details are here .

Homestart Bedfordshire Home-Start Central Bedfordshire we run numerous pnd support groups throughout Central Bedfordshire, where women with similar experiences can meet and end the isolation of postnatal depression . Contact details – / 01582 660061

Journeys of Hope Contact

Hertforshire Postnatal Illness Support Can provide telephone support and they run monthly support group meetings for mums with the severest forms of postnatal illness.

Acacia Family Support Provide a free wide range of support and therapies to help mums recover from the symptoms associated with pre and postnatal depression. Their services are delivered across Birmingham and they include individual befriending sessions, group work therapy, telephone support, practical support in your own home and massage therapy for parents and your baby.

Cedar House Support runs PND support groups in the Surrey, Sussex and South London Areas. The groups are run by trained PND Counsellors.

The Guildford Group

This group runs from 10am to midday every Wednesday, term time only starting on January 13th 2016 at Boxgrove Sure Start Children’s Centre, Boxgrove Lane, Guildford, GU1 2TD. All groups are informal, confidential and a great support for the mothers. A crèche is provided and there is parking. Please contact Liz before attending: 07773283556.

The Balham Group

This group is at St Stephen’s Centre (next to The Weir Link Centre) Weir Road, SW12 0NU.

This group will run every Friday, term time only from 9.30 to 11.30am, a crèche is provided and there is free parking.

It is necessary to book a place for this group, please contact Liz to do so. 07773 283556,

The Surrey Heath Group (Mytchett)

This group started on Tuesday 12th January 2016 at Mytchett Children’s Centre, Hamesmoor Road, Mytchett, GU16 6JB and runs every Tuesday term time only from 12.30 to 2.30pm. A crèche is provided and there is free parking. Please contact Liz on 07773 283556 or for further details.

PSS PND Service Offers 121 and group support in the Liverpool area plus Twitter & Facebook plus Professional Perinatal Training. 0151 702 5533

Kyra Women’s Project is based in York/Selby and offers a range of support services.

Bluebell PND Support in Glasgow offer support and counselling. You ca self-refer and referrals are welcome from health, social work and other professional agencies. Referrals can be made by telephoning 0141 221 3003.

PTSD Support Group – Dr Georgina Cliford runs a small therapy group for up to 4 women from Tuesday 8th March 2016 onwards in London. It will be weekly on a Tuesday afternoon (with some flexibility depending on availability, childcare issues etc.) For more info please see

Pregnancy Sickness Support support to mums struggling with pregnancy sickness/ Hyperemesis. They have a national support network for women suffering any degree of nausea and vomiting in pregnancy to access support and comfort at times of isolation and distress .

Perinatal Mental Health Partnership You can follow this for information on the UK Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week.

#PNDHOUR And let’s not forget the amazing #pndhour run by the beautiful Rosey @pndandme. A weekly Twitter chat, it takes place every Wednesday between 8-9pm and a different subject relating to perinatal mental health is discussed.

Mums, currently ill or recovered, health care professionals and family members all take part to discuss experiences, share knowledge and provide hope. Join in if you can, it’s brilliant. Rosy has written a little explanation of it here

Moment Health has a wealth on info on maternal mental illness including an emotions tracker

The Every Mum Movement contains information for mums on the illnesses, mum meet ups and how to ‘be mentally buff’.

The Perinatal Mental Health Toolkit is a clinical resource for health care professionals to help them support unwell mums. However, it’s also a great resource for anyone

Perinatal Guidelines in Practise Dr Stephanie, who was referenced earlier, has produced these guidelines to support healthcare professionals when diagnosing an unwell mum. This again is a useful resource for anyone.

Am I alone? Can I read other people’s experiences?

You aren’t alone. You most definitely aren’t and there are lots of stories online from people who have written about their experiences. Remember, reading things could trigger thoughts and feelings so take care of you and only read if you feel ok to. If at any point you want to stop, then do. That’s ok.

My blog is here. I talk about being ill with psychosis and anxiety, recovery, medication and EastEnders

The lovely Rosey’s blog is here and it’s a fab resource on all things Perinatal Roses page also has a fab tab which lists lots of brilliant blogs from those who have suffered .

You will get better, you aren’t alone. You may slide up and down the snakes and ladders of the game of recovery but you will get there.



Picasso had a blue period. Women do not.

When I was 9, I awoke with a fright with a stomach ache akin to being kicked repeatedly in the gut with a thumping in my nether regions. I wandered into my mum and dads room crying with my mum assuming I was trying to get a day off school. I woke up that morning to see blood in my pants and went down to see my mum as she smoked her fag with the dog barking its head off. She announced I was a woman now and left me some pads the size of a metre long pencil case on the bed.

When I got my period I genuinely thought I was dying. Actual blood was coming from my front bottom and would do until I hit the menopause and to ensure I didn’t destroy everything in my midst, I was now to wear a cotton wedge in potato sack knickers for the next 40 years.

Most startling however, was that what was coming out of me was red? Bright red. Like actual blood. Which was most confusing because although blood is red when it comes out of the body everywhere else, when it comes out of the area hidden by our pants – the VULVA – then its blue. Like pen ink. Or mouthwash. Or wash liquid. It’s amazing that women’s bodies are so royal that when we bleed from where we wee and birth babies from, it’s such a majestic shade.

Except it isn’t – it’s actually red. And there is loads of it. Half an egg cup full my arse. For years we have seen adverts for sanitary products on TV where we see something that looks like washing up liquid poured over pads to show how effective they are. I have watched things on You Tube that test the absorbency of sanitary towels that bang on about how they used a liquid made out of corn-starch to match the consistency of period blood – but its bloody blue. Not bloody red.

WHY ????? Blood is red. It sometimes can have a lovely brown tone to it which is great for matching your autumn / winter outfits should you need to blend in but the general medical consensus is that red is its unique identifier.

The crimson tide is however, hopefully starting to change. There is a new advert for sanitary products that will show a woman in the shower with blood coming down her thigh  ( showers are so relaxing for women eh ) and most horror inducing of all, is that the sanitary towel will be shown absorbing a liquid which looks like the offensive fluid that is , cover your ears , blood.

Here are some people’s reactions to the advert. Note that someone comments blood down leg in the shower is a bit much. Lucky they don’t endure thisin reality isn’t it eh?

Blood is normal. We don’t see adverts for plasters with Stacey the teenager hurting her finger after being whacked with a hockey stick, with blue blood all over her arm do we? When Reg bangs his finger with a hammer, he isn’t covered in blue washing up liquid is he ? No – they are fashioned with a blood like substance to make it realistic. So why is blood more shameful when it comes out of a Vulva? Maybe it’s because we are all so scared of Vaginas and Vulvas because we can’t even say these words in public without someone shooting a glare at us and saying ‘don’t you mean your tinkle? ‘.

We live in a world where girls are brought up to think that using the correct terms for their genitals are dirty and naughty. ‘Mummy, my vulva hurts’ would be looked at in despair that translates to ‘don’t use that word ‘but if little Layla says ‘Mummy, my uppsy daisy hurts’ then she is carted off to the doctors. Tinkle, button, mini, la la, special area, cookie, girl bits, flower, foo-foo and nunu are all names given to the area in our pants which is fine and dandy but it’s the fact that the real words for it are hushed over and actually actively concealed. Much like the real colour of period blood in the public domain.

As an aside, nothing beats when I heard a woman referring to the vulva as a Cherry Bakewell. As a cake expert, I can advise that Cherry Bakewell is a tart made out of short crust pastry, jam and sprinkled with almonds. I have just checked and my vulva isn’t sprinkled with almonds, at least not today. I wonder if it should be served with a cherry on top?

When we watch medical dramas, much is done to make them as realistic as possible. As someone is wheeled into theatre having been fake crushed under a fake bus, there is ketchup coloured goo spurting out of them. The Daily Fail once wrote an entire article about the 375 gallons of fake blood used in the BBC medical drama Casualty. Do you know that there are 15 different types of fake blood used in Casualty including congealed, clotting scabbing and dried? You know, to ensure it’s realistic. For those of us blessed with the monthly menstruals, congealed and clotted blood is familiar to us but this is never shown on period adverts. Instead, thin bright blue easy pouring liquid is neatly dredged onto a sanitary towel with no clumps or drips anywhere. How I wish my period was like that instead of large spots of blood that have escaped onto my jeans.

I turn on the TV and I see guns being waved around. I walk into the kids toy department and see 987 different types of fake guns on shelves and I struggle with the fact that we don’t bat our lashes at depictions of things which cause such horror and destruction in the world but throw our tampons at the TV screen in horror if we see a mixture of vegetable oil and food colouring being used to portray a fluid that is present in all of our bodies. It’s simply not reality to show blood as blue.

My reality is bleeding a red river. My sanitary towels have at times helicoptered out of my pants, down my leg and fallen out and there is no way on earth I could skip around pound land in white hot pants and a crop top like the adverts show. When I get my period, I may as well have swallowed a bowling ball as my stomach grows to the size of a 2 yr. pregnant elephant. I adopt a wardrobe of black leggings and pants up to my elbows and lay on the sofa surrounded by raw cookie dough mix whilst feeling like I could throw a saucepan across the living room as the air I breathe is sending me into a rage. I find I have destroyed the mattress protector having leaked all over the bed even though I wore a sanitary towel the size of a window ledge in my pants and I come to the conclusion I should just stuff a pillow up myself for the next 2 weeks . There is no way I could perform the splits on the tube whilst rollerblading during a tap dance.

When I was 18, I was talking to my friend May in college about whether I should wear my leopard print bell bottoms when we went clubbing that night. As I stood up, I saw I had leaked right through my turquoise capri pants. I am aware that you may need to pick yourself off the floor with the thought that I was wearing turquoise trousers but my horror was that the white table I had been perched on had blood on it and anyone who walked behind me would either thing I had a terrible accident and needed taking to casualty or that they would be very aware that my sanitary towel had failed its one job and I was leaking everywhere. After a bit of remodelling and home surgery on my outfit, I emerged with a cardigan tied around my hips and my handbag attempting to start a new craze worn backwards.

My reality is the pad sticking to the side of my knickers so they don’t actually catch the blood,  the wings not winging and instead sticking to my leg, the pad riding halfway up my back as I have dared to walk more than three paces and my constant asking of my partner to check if I have leaked. Some peoples reality on their period is that they can slice a backhand on the tennis court whilst clad in a g-string so the adverts appeal to them but the one way in which we are all joined is that our blood is red. As much as I would love it to be royal blue, being the queen that I am, our blood is red.

I sometimes look at adverts depicting women and think, why is that woman shaving her legs when they already have no hair on them? If I don’t shave my legs at least 3 times a week, I can make an intricate French plait of the regrowth. Leave it more than a few days, and a normal razor won’t cut it and the forestry commission’s industrial grade lawn mower is needed.  I would buy the razor on the advert that shows it cutting through a forest on a set of legs that also has some stretch marks thrown in for good measure. As getting a razor over those blue streaks aint easy.  When we see an advert for men shaving their bards off, we don’t see Fabio the muscle bound hunk shaving an already smooth chin do we? No, we see him shaving a beard off and then looking delighted with himself.  Why is that woman dying her roots blond when they are already blond? Why is that woman drinking a milkshake to lose weight when she clearly already only exists on a gust of wind and a glass of air? Why aren’t women depicted in a normal way?

I read that in 201, Kotex was told it couldn’t use the word vagina in its adverts. It seems that anything that is below belly button level and above knee level is hush hush and doesn’t really exist people. Someone wrote on twitter that they didn’t agree with the advert saying we all know that sanitary products are used for, we don’t need visuals thank you very much. We all know what noses are used for – to smell- but we don’t insist people walk around with their hands over their face do we? What is wrong with showing blood as red, wee as yellow and shit as shit coloured?

Having a blue liquid poured onto the pad just adds to the idea that periods are secret and shameful when they actually a massive normal part of everyday life for women. Quite why there has to be a veil of secrecy over what they are or how they look baffles me. I remember when Steffi Graf had to run off from the Wimbledon court in the late 80s or early 90s. My dad picked up his lamb chop and said she probably on her period and bit into it. I emerged from that incident not even a jot traumatised – hearing the word period didn’t balls me up.

Its 2017 and the world is full of horror and people will say in the grand scheme of things, maybe this is something that isn’t that important. But it’s a small part of the much bigger subject that contributes to the stigma of periods. We have to remember there are places in the world where girls have no pants or sanitary towels and they feel ashamed for bleeding and there is a bigger conversation to follow on from this to be had about that and ensuring girls and women get access to sanitary products, which are deemed in the UK, as luxury items for tax purposes. I wrote this last year about said luxury items – .

Picasso had a blue period. Women do not. There is a school of thought that Picasso based that period in his art on his girlfriend’s unoxygenated menstrual blood and if that was the case , then bravo to Picasso for using reality as a basis for his subject. But most peoples reality is that blood is red and I doubt showing this on a TV advert is going to stop the world from turning or destroy the eyes of the young staring at the TV.

Red is not always for danger.

If you fancy reading more about this, my lovely mate Alison has written a blinding post over on The Motherload which is here – . Take a bloody look x


I wanted to close my eyes forever but I deserved for them to stay open.

Trigger warning – mention of suicide.

It’s World Suicide Prevention Day.

I never thought I’d know what it felt like to want to die. To feel like breathing and living was the hardest thing in the world. To feel so trapped in my own mind, a mind that once belonged to me, now scaring me into despair. To feel afraid of being alive for a single second longer.

But seven years ago, this feeling hit me. It consumed me. Death seemed to be the only way out of terror of my thoughts. I couldn’t see properly, I couldn’t dress myself, I couldn’t read or write. And I thought I couldn’t stay alive.

Having a baby was supposed to be the making of me. I never thought that within a few hours of becoming a mother, I would experience my first symptoms of psychosis. I had heard that women could feel sad after giving birth for a few days and a few weeks. I had heard of postnatal depression but I hadn’t heard of what was happening to me. When I looked at my baby in the cot by my bed, I didn’t feel a pang of love. Instead, I felt trapped by his presence. Within a few hours of his birth I honestly could feel my mind disintegrating and a wave of fear I had never felt before came over me like a doomwatch. My eyes started the flick back and forth and my body temperature rose. I started breathing heavily and found myself drawn to looking at the windows. Without any force from me, my mind started to try and hatch an escape plan from the hospital- how could I get out and away from the baby? And even more terrifyingly, away from my new life, away from this world. A world that 5 hours before, with my pregnancy belly , I was elated and excited to be a part of.

3 days after having my son, I started experiencing hallucinations. The fear of being trapped forever in this life consumed my every waking moment. I struggled to eat, I could barely speak, I had forgotten how to get dressed. I felt myself float from the sofa to the corner of the room and look down on myself and I was convinced the duvet cover was dancing.

As my mind realized escaping this world wouldn’t be easy, I looked to the sky for answers. If only I could get to the clouds and unzip them I thought. Then I could get to space and be free wouldn’t I? But I wouldn’t be because I would still exist. Where would I go after space? I realized there was no escape and that I was trapped, locked in a life I felt too scared to breathe in. This feeling was the most single most terrifying feeling I have ever ever ever felt.

These feelings lasted untreated for six weeks. My life was a blur with a baby. I ran out of the house naked, I clung to my husbands feet to ensure he never left me and I felt smothered by the air around me. I thought the houses on the street were moving back and forth and I was utterly tortured by fear of being near my own baby on my own. I shook with nerves. I shook with fear. This baby was here forever now and in my mind, I was going to feel like this forever.

Unless I found a way out.

I said I wanted the baby adopted. I hatched what I thought were master plans to get our life back without it. My dear sweet husband was banging on the doors of every doctor , nurse and hospital to get me help while I made endless manic lists of my thoughts whilst screaming for the pain to be taken away.

But my mind could only take so much. Six weeks of terror, hallucinations and fear culminated in a massive meltdown at 3am one night. A visit to an out of hours doctor , after being dressed by my husband ended when she asked me if I had planned my own death. Of course I hadn’t and I will tell you why – I was so confused at that point, I barely knew my own name. I thought the baby had been sent to test me, I was scared to go to the toilet, I couldn’t remember how to do a wee. I was scared of noise, of air, of breathing. I was so scared of living , that my brain could not think of anything else.

She said if I hadn’t planned my suicide, I was considered low risk and to go home. Astounded, my husband didn’t accept this. He wanted his wife back. He wanted me back for us , for our baby, for our life. Seeing me like this wasn’t just hard for him though and everyone else but mostly, it was horrific for me. I was in an absolutely desperate desperate state and he could see that. He knew how much I wanted to not feel like that for one second more.

The next morning I woke up and declared I wanted to die. That this was my last day and that I could take no more. That morning I walked into the bathroom thinking it has to end there ,with my husband banging on the door desperately trying to coax me out. That was the day I felt like I wanted to die and my pain would be over.

I wanted to close my eyes and stay asleep.

But I didn’t die that day. Two hours after being in the bathroom, I was hospitalized in a psychiatric mother and baby unit. I had screamed until my mouth bled before my admission and was convinced I could smell burning flesh as I walked to the ward. But walking through those doors gave me a wave of hope.

It was warm. The nurses were kind and calm. I was spoken to gently and with care and my baby, the baby I feared, was in the unit with me. I got a diagnosis – postpartum psychosis and I started medication. The walls slowly stopped moving, the fear slowly started to fall away. Slowly slowly, I dreamt less of being away from the world and more and more, wanted to work to stay in it.

It took a week of a nurse being on duty outside my room 24 hours a day, for me to be able to close the door and be on my room with my baby on my own without feeling utter terror. It was a tiny step but the most significant turning point in my illness. And in my recovery.

And recover I did. I never ever thought I would feel like me ever again. To be so deep in fear that you forget what life can be like is awful but it does get better. I promise. It may take time but you will be okay.

With the help of my husband, my little boy,doctors, medication, therapy, a stint in the psychiatric unit and working to recover ,I’m here . And I’m alive. And I am so thankful. Because I deserve to be here .

Be kind ,be calm, be nice to someone you know is suffering. Open your ears and arms to someone you think may be in fear. Listen to that person in you don’t know who just needs a friendly hand. And that can be anyone’s hand.

If you are experiencing feelings that are making you feel that you can’t take anymore, go to casualty. Call 999. Go to your doctor. Call a crisis team. Call the Samaritans on 116 123 and tell your thoughts. You deserve to be here. Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful and you are worth it.

You are worth being alive xx

The NHS pages on suicide contain useful information and signpost to help and support. They are here. Please read them xx .

My balls ache. And I didn’t even realise I had them.

You often hear the as old as a leather headbag line when someone says they haven’t been well … shhhhhh ‘mentally’. You get “ Oh but you look great, you would never know.” Or “Oh but I saw you liked Kim Kardashians latest instagram post. If you were that ill you couldn’t do that”. The last few months I have been well aware of the public face of all is well in my world of Eve. In reality it hasn’t – I’ve been off work since the end of april with stress. The reasons for my stress have been difficult and it’s something I will be keeping to myself. Because in the end, for me, it’s the effect of the stress that I’ve been working to deal with that is my priority now. So so much more has happened , but some things will remain mine to know about.

Having had psychosis and anxiety , I thought stress for me would be a lesser known cousin that I could destroy with my she-ra mental health powers. How wrong was I . Stress is a total and utter ballache that hurts so bad , I wanted to cut the balls off. Except I don’t have them. I had to find balls I didn’t own even though it felt like a million of them were flying at my face. And stress while having to carry on like all is well, means the balls hit you in the face and knock you over when you least expect it.

I found myself turning into a coping robot – my child was delivered and collected from school each day. My dear  friends Leena and Nellie acted as on call babysitters for my dear child when I needed to visit the doctors but I showered , dressed, wore my best fringed ankle cowboy boots and even re-applied my crystal finished acrylic nails. Nellie held my hand as i sobbed hysterically about life and was my shoulder to lean on throughout.  I collected Joe everyday with a bright smile and regales of ‘” Ooohhh look at your amazing picture of people falling out of an RAF plane and the swat officers running underneath them. What’s that ? An assassin you say ? Oh how cute and marvellous Joe. Here is an ice lolly”. I bought packets of spiralized butternut squash to continue on my quest for supermodel thighs and phoned the mothership every two nights and duly listened to her moan at me for not sending a birthday card to the lady who lives 8 houses down in another country and why can’t you just write all the birthdays down Evelyn ? I sent flowers on obligatory days and answered all the requests that came through to me. While I was doing the UK Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week.

And then I would close the bathroom door. I would turn on the shower and I would cry. I cried so hard one day I put my fingers through my hair and as they left it I realised I was holding a clump of it in my hand. My hair was falling out. Having been blessed with an already ample forehead akin to the side of a mountain,this was somewhat disastrous and does nothing for what I still assume is my lost modelling career. Ponytails were now a total non option on the school run. I lost some of my hair when I had Postpartum Psychosis and had to live with a fringe that grew upwards upon the hairs return and I looked like something you would want to pinch the cheeks off and give a lollipop to. I sat in the bath one day in my clothes with the shower falling down on me for over an hour and wondered if and when the feeling would wash away.

I then got my period. Thanks for the extra info Eve I hear you say. And you’re not special as we all get them. But then I got another period .And then 2 more. The doctor sent me to blood test after blood test and I weed on a fair few sticks but it seems my body just went totally haywire and had a technical fault . I felt like I did when I was 9 and got my first period. 9. Yes , 9.Life has been a complete barrel of drunk laughs for me from birth. When I hit puberty, it was as though my thighs had been spread with a mixture of butter and cottage cheese, got four boobs as what puberty hit girl knows about bra measurement and wrote swimming in PE and white trousers off until eternity. I also felt murderous to anything that wasn’t made out of sugar for the next 27 years.

Back in the stress diagnosis on 2017, I found myself staying up until 3am as going to sleep was hard knowing I would wake up wired, but a stressed wire where I had to function on a basic level. Hello Mr Checkout man in sainsburys. Yes Joe is still collecting the lego cards. Oh how kind , 35 packets because you like him, wonderful. Hello son, please can you not lay on the floor of the cornershop because they have run out of rump steak. I know mummy feeds you the food of a king but for once, lets accept the organic cows ares still in the field.

To have a stress filled situation in my life that I have no control over has honestly felt like I have been drowning at times. I went through 3 weeks of fainting which terrified Joe and John. After one such incident, John picked me up off the lego helicopter I had collapsed on and spoke to me gently when I came around. “ Are you okay baby” he asked. I opened my mouth to respond but realised I couldn’t . For around 15 minutes , I wasn’t able to form words. Joe was laughing and then became scared – “Daddy, what wrong with mama. Why mummy making funny sounds, make it stop daddy”. I can remember trying to say what’s wrong and feeling very confused why I couldn’t . I had tears going down my face but couldn’t express my upset verbally – John cuddled me until it passed but it was utterly terrifying.

And food. Food decided it didn’t like being digested.  My body was rejecting everything i was eating which resulted in a half a stone lighter me. Usually, this would be grounds for a fist pump but not at the moment. I have to sit for 30 minutes after each meal to allow for my dinner to stay put and not have a punch up with my stomach acid. That stomach acid made cuts at the side of my mouth – if you attempt to cover these with make up, you look like you’ve orally caressed your toothpaste and its dried out. Lovely.

The GP said my body was shutting down. The hair loss, the bleeding, the constant fainting, the no thank you to my lunches- it was saying I needed to rest, to burst all the balls. And so I did. I stopped everything . I got signed off. I stopped it all and that’s what I needed to do. I’ve spent 2 months recouping and focusing on the importance of recovery and self care. I’ve spent 2 months reclaiming Eve . To the naked eye , I always have been. If I hadn’t been off work, no one would know something hasn’t been right. I wasn’t covering it up – I still want to wear make up and false nails but the make up has helped with the terrible black eye bags.

And I am still Eve. I can still drink 87 glasses of wine and butterfly across the dance floor while shouting about how school attendance awards are a total ball ache whilst googling ‘how come I didn’t realise I dropped a stapler in my bra’. That doesn’t go. But that doesn’t mean someone isn’t ill. I have spent 2 months cancelling dinners with friends. My beautiful friend Sarah came over from Australia and I was due to meet up with her and all my uni girlfriends for dinner and I just couldn’t go. They would have all hugged me and been super supportive ( and have been) but my head wasn’t in the place to do it. I’ve ignored my phone , voicemails and social media until around 3 weeks ago when I felt like I was ready to step a little back into the world I lived in before.

I turned my laptop on for work last week. The first time in just over 2 months. I’m on a phased return and I have missed work enormously. I like going in and eating all the biscuits and toddling around in my pink high heels whilst doing very important work type things. I sit at my desk and yell out helppppp like a 3 yr old when my excel spreadsheet isn’t letting me type in capitals. Some nice poor soul comes over and presses caps lock for me. I could play skittles with the diet coke cans all over my desk and I have 7 pairs of shoes hiding in my drawer that I may have bought on the joint account. Thank you royal bank of husband. You haven’t seen the shoes but they are nice and will remain living at work. My best friend now works in the team and its all a jolly good hoot. And work have been so unbelievably supportive during this time , I will personally buy them all a luxury holiday upon my return. If I ever become a millionaire. They may have to settle for a bag of mini eggs and some bakewell tarts.

They have heard me cry, yell and act in despair and cuddled me both virtually and in person. A few little messages here and there but no pressure to respond and that’s what I needed. My brain was so consumed with the stress in front of me that I couldn’t and still occasionally at times cant respond. My lovely manager calls me each week and if I didn’t answer it was okay. Everything was okay.

I feel incredibly thankful to my team for picking up my work with I literally just walked out on and I haven’t been able to answer any questions about how or why to do things. And so with the tiny amount of work I am doing to reintroduce myself back into my normal world, I am enjoying it. I of course wanted to dive straight back in in a dazzling swimsuit and glitterball earrings but the doc has told me to calm my self down. Though it may feel like I can take great strides, small steps are the name of the game at the moment.

These last couple of months have reminded me both how fragile the mind can be but also how strong it is also and how things do get better and they do get back to the normal you know. With the help of the lovely Dr Stephanie, my own GP , my therapist Rosie , all the happy pills, John , Joe and my friends, things are slipping back into place. I have been to the pub. I like looking at johns nice big strong back.I’ve sworn at the train track clogging up the house. I went for a curry. I had some long island ice teas. Just not everyday.

I also found out I had been awarded a British Empire Medal in the Queens Birthday Honours for Services to Mental Health. I am so grateful to whoever nominated me – it’s such a kind thing to do and I truly love supporting people , particularly mums, with their mental health. I felt happy, nervous, a little panicked when I was then asked to do a press conference as one of the 6 people chosen to reflect this years recipients.

The week before, I had been exhausted and then week of the press conference , I was choosing a pretty dress with flute sleeves to wear . I then went to Kensington Palace and sat in a press conference and spoke about my work. I sat next to Doreen, a pearly queen who has done so much charity work, she could write a book longer than the phone directory. I want to be Doreen when I grow up because she is ace – she told of her colourful and selfless life, with all its ups and downs, while sat there looking amazing in her button covered outfit.

The picture attached to this blog shows the difference in my face from one situation to the next. While I was in my pretty flute dress, I was still unwell. I just didn’t ‘look’ like people think you should look. Whereas the other photo of me looking utterly horrific was when I had just had a meltdown over not being able to collapse a scooter while on hold to Boots the Chemist , while ordering Joe a lamb shish having had 3 hours of broken stress filled sleep. I then had to load the boy, the bloody scooter and the kebab into a cab to take Joe to football practice. When we got there , I kicked the scooter, threw it on the grass and collapsed on Leena and asked her to take over everything. She dutifully handed me a diet coke, sat with me for the hour and loaded me , Joe and the scooter in her car and delivered us home so my brain didn’t have to attempt to work out how to do all that myself.

Being so aware of my mental health means as soon as I saw the signs, I took a step back. I knew it was no time to be brave trekking into work everyday . For the first time maybe ever , I told people I couldn’t do certain things and its only when I stopped I realised how bloody bananas life can be at times.

Life now is racing towards marvelous again but it may be a little while before normal service resumes completely and that’s okay as it will happen. Sometimes, it may look like something is all glittery when actually it isn’t all gold. What you see on the outside might not be an entirely accurate portrayal of how things are underneath . But I guess what I have also realised is that in the face of stressville, I still exist. I can still be me. And emerging from this, I think I have learnt more about myself than all those other encounters . I’ve definitely learnt that scooters are the worst invention of all time and don’t respond to being kicked repeatedly.

Maybe that I need a vajazzle . Just to seal the stay away.

The life and times of a knicker frown and how it’s not easy to turn upside down.

IMG_0383Its mental health awareness week and the theme is survive or thrive. For a long time I have thrived. For a long time I barely survived. I thought I was taking a nose dive but I came through giving everyone high fives.
For a long time I talked about recovery from my maternal mental illness. Postpartum Psychosis stole my mind, my breath, my clothes ( I went through a stage of ripping them of in wild abandon) and almost my life. I spent 6 weeks after the birth of my son consumed by such fear and terror, that the only way out I could see was to not be alive anymore. The feelings I experienced made me feel trapped in everything- shut doors, closed windows, zipped up coats, the steam in the bathroom after a shower – all signified me not being able to breathe. I would dream of escaping the house to feel free and when I did , I still felt smothered by the air. The clouds showed me I was trapped in the world and I wanted to cut through them and float away. Away from the pain of feeling so frightened of my own mind. I felt betrayed by nature and wondered why my own thoughts were playing such evil tricks on me. Why was it telling me I was scared of my baby? Why was it giving me visions of being buried alive ? Why did it seem intent on destroying me, my family and my life?
But recover I did. Medication, a nice extended break in the psychiatric mother and baby unit, 87 hours of 3 different types of therapy, meditation with practical mindfulness books on the bus, books on how to handle becoming a mother in the loo so I could learn about my mind whilst doing a wee and booby feeding my then toddling child and the healing nature of time allowed my mind to return. It took around 3 years to feel like me again. I looked like me , if 2 stone heavier, I drank gin like I had used to ,I could dance to my ragga ragga ragga mix tapes like I had pre child and finally , my mind was thinking and feeling almost like I had before.
I was recovered from the psychotic episode that had affected my life so terribly when my son was born. But I didn’t emerge fresh as a daisy – I emerged with battle scars and a little rough around the edges. I no longer wanted to fill the garden with endless juice extractors or thought my mouth was covered in cling film but I did feel a little scared of life. I felt pants of panic in my chest I never experienced 3 years previously. My hands had a slight tremor like I previously thought only affected my mum because she was old. My right shoulder developed an almost unstoppable twitch that people would stare at in work while I spoke to them and would occasionally say ” are you cold Eve as your arm is jumping? ” and my mother would insist I see the doctor on a daily basis as she was “concerned about that twitch because surely everyone is looking at it” . My scalp itched and flaked with my new friend psoriasis and I would twist my eyebrow hairs with my fingers.

In 2013, I was formally diagnosed with PTSD as a result of my psychosis. The flashbacks to my illness and the effect it had had on my life was becoming a total ball ache as everyone around me had to adjust how they lived their life to suit my fears  – I couldn’t go in lifts so would happily walk up 9 flights of stairs to get to a ministerial meeting in work and find myself arriving after everyone else. I would walk in in my 6 inch stilettos, my pink fluffy pen, a receipt to write notes on as I forgot my note pad and my lipstick in hand , panting like a dog on heat with sweaty boobs.I couldn’t sit in cars that didn’t have doors at the back meaning I would plonk myself in the front seat of people’s cars and pissing off someone’s wife or husband. I couldn’t sit on planes or buses unless I was in an aisle seat. Getting on a cheap airline flight turned into a bartering game as I attempted to negotiate moving seats with a plastic spoon wielding two year old. I couldn’t get the tube from certain stations with my pram as I didn’t want to get in the elevator . I couldn’t go to the toilet on trains or in shops as I didn’t want to lock the doors in case I got trapped. My son became a well practiced 3 year old ninja , who would do his wee first and then stand against the door with our shopping bags aspiring as a barrier so no one would walk in . If they attempted to , he would yell” wee alert going on in here and you don’t wanna see that lady” if anyone attempted to push the door.

EMDR followed. I followed my therapists finger around the room to regress to my traumatic thoughts and worked hard to remove and replace them. It worked. I found myself (almost) free of the trappings of feeling trapped and on with my life I could go.

Kind off. Diagnosis number 3 was for Generalised Anxiety Disorder. I had become used to catastrophising about everything in life. My chest had become over familiar to thumping like a rogue finger in a DJ booth and panic attacks became such a normal part of my life that I could have put them down in the occupation box on a form.

Over the last 3/4 years, I have worked reallllllllly hard to handle my anxiety and most days , I feel like the Eve I was before 2010. I am medicated and will always be so to keep my mind in this place because I recognize this place and like it.  But a few times a year , I turn into doomwatch and a cloud of anxiety comes over me that scares me , as it feels like it will never go.

When those times hit, I feel like I cry a river of tears whenever a door is closed. My forehead buries itself into the towels in the bathroom, my back burns as I slide down the wall. The worry and panic that I experience tell me that I will always feel like this and the feeling that this will never ever go whizzes around me and wraps me up like metaphorical Egyptian mummy. The are moments where it feels okay – I wake up and don’t have the pounding in my chest. I find Johns feet with mine and wrap them around them to feel safe. I snuggle into my little boys squishy little arms that are all warm and his sweaty hair and feel like it’s all okay, that I am loved. But then in the day at some point, it seems like all hope is lost. Like the really is no way out. The mood is up and down like a broken knickerband and as much as I keep pulling my pants up, they fall down again. But I won’t allow my pants to come completely off,as if they come off, they have won. The pants need to stay on. They may roll down occasionally but I will pull them back up. They might get to my knees or my ankles but there is no way they are ending up off. I won’t let that happen . I won’t let anxiety win.

Today I feel like I am surviving and thriving. My pants are firmly on and up but I won’t lie – they are rolling down a little at certain points in the day. I cuddle John , I snuggle Joe, I spend on hour in the cross trainer staring at Dr Pimple Popper on You Tube, I do what I can to get me through the day.

My mind at times may wander but I know that I’m okay. My pants are pink with a bow on and they aren’t going anywhere . Even if I have to wear them over my tights or leggings to stop them rolling , I will do it.

Like an anxious superhero.

The chronicles of 19865788 Lego blocks while not wearing socks.

In three days, it’s my sons 7th birthday. My baby is no longer that and last night , as I looked at him in bed , with his superman pants sticking out of the bed covers, football socks pulled up to his knees, and handmade reward signs for “bad man wanted , dead or aliv” stuck all over the house, I cried. John came over to me and said he is lovely isnt he ? I said he is, and he wiped a tear from my face. Well , it was more than a tear- a monsoon was gushing out of my tear ducts and I was a blubbering mess. As I felt the salty drops , I said to John “ where has the time gone ?”. So much has happened baby , I never thought we would be here . I never ever thought I could feel such a burst of love for him” and my long suffering pretend hubby said , but here you are Eve , you and your boy , the dream team.

And here we are indeed. Joe’s birthday doesn’t just signify his birth. It signifies me becoming a mummy, John becoming a daddy and also makes me remember that seven years ago, after giving birth , my mind descended into a whirling deep pit of the hell that is Postpartum Psychosis . Seven years on, it reminds me that I am here , I recovered , I survived , I am alive and I am happy. Happy to be Joe’s mummy .

I wanted to write this blog to show my boy I always loved him , even during a time when I could barely remember my own name , I couldn’t remember how to wash myself and when I was lost in a rambling head of confused thoughts. I want him to be able to read it when he is older and know how much he means to me and our family but also to show other mums who may be unwell now , that they will get better and their relationship with their child will be okay . More than okay – it will flourish.

Joe watched when I received a Speaking Out Award from the charity Mind in November . I , alongside my dear friend Kathryn , had worked with the BBC and Mind on a storyline about Postpartum Psychosis on the soap Eastenders and were essentially the experts by experience. Mind and the BBC did a marvellous job of accurately portraying the illness and raising awareness and one of the overriding themes of the storyline was of how much the mum affected , Stacey, loved her baby. It was so important to show this and the charity Action on Postpartum Psychosis stress that as serious as the symptoms of the illness are , they in no way mean the sufferer is evil or doesn’t love her child. In no way at all.

Kathryn and I were very lucky to be presented the award , which was a thank for us speaking out about our experiences which informed the storyline . I had told Joe that mummy and daddy were going to an award show ,that mummy would be getting an award and explained to the in laws how to use the modern invention that is the IPad so Joe could watch the live feed. When we got home at 1am, me shoeless but most definitely not wineless , eating a lamb shish with extra garlic chilli sauce and a naan bread hanging out of my mouth, my mother in-law emerged from the lounge and said that they didn’t know I was getting an award but said that Joe sat there for 2 and a half hours staring at the iPad waiting for mummy. As it got to the end , she had said to Joe that she didn’t think he would be seeing mummy and Joe shouted ‘I will. My mummy said she is getting an award and my mummy doesn’t lie to me” and he plonked himself on the floor again and stared at the screen once more. I then did indeed get it , and my mother in law says she looked at Joe, my beautiful little pocket rocket, who has mastered the art of swearing in a non – offensive way ” Mummy – Donald trump is a right ‘ucker isn’t he” and he had tears running down his face. When he woke up in the morning he said ‘Mummy, I so proud of you – you said my name in your speech!’.

He then asked where his award was , when is he going to look around the EastEnders set and why he can’t drink children’s wine to celebrate . Six hours later , after a trip to the trophy shop, I presented him with his own award and he did a thank you speech for us in the living room while dressed up as his self-invented super-hero pants man ( think 18 pairs of pants tucked into another pair of pants , socks on hands , pair of pants on head) .

He then said he needed to talk to me. He kissed my head , asked if I would play shops with him and then said , mummy, when you collected your award last night , why did you say when you gave birth to me , that you were scared of me ? He looked at me and said , I’m not scary mama and my heart stopped a beat. Joe has always known what happened to me and what happened to us when he was born. He knows mummy had a poorly head that made her think things that weren’t really happening , he knows that mummy was a bit muddled up when she thought about things and she needed the doctors to help make her better and he knows that me and him lived in a psychiatric mother and baby unit so I could recover in a safe warm place . We visit the mother and baby unit and go to the bedroom we lived in while we was there. Joe jumps up and down in the cot he was in and helps himself to the biscuits the nurses hand out he knows the mums who are there have poorly heads but that they are there to get better. But what he didn’t know is that I was scared of him.

I have never been one to shy away from telling Joe stuff. I am the parent who explained where babies came from when he was three – ‘What , daddy put his willy into your vangina ???? and the sperm fish raced to the wombs and broke through ? do I have sperm fish? “

We are the family that explained what body parts are which brought about the following encounter one hazy night at 11pm while I was on the sofa in johns tracksuit bottoms , drinking Buck’s Fizz from the bottle. I think it was a Tuesday- totally rock and roll…

‘Mummy , I can’t sleep.

Cue me throwing the bag of chocolate behind the sofa and sympathetically asking why darling ?

“ it’s just that I need to tell you the right word for the vangina . it’s not a vangina or a front bumper. It’s a vulva. Can you say vulva mummy ? you have it so you should be able to.

Vulva darling. I can say it. Thank you for telling me .

No worries mummy, I thought you should know. It’s not a front bumper. We don’t say that”

And off he toddled.

And then there was the epic time we explained how people can love who they want :

“Mummy, why is daddy’s friend kissing that other man on the lips in a movie star kiss like you and daddy ?

Because they love each other like mummy and daddy do. Anyone can love anyone. Boys can love girls, girls can love girls. Girls can love boys , boys can love boys. Anyone can love anyone. And if anyone says they can’t they are idiots okay ?

Are they dicks mummy , the people who think it’s wrong ? Shall we call them the dicks ?

Yes my love, they are the dicks” .

And after allowing him to self-parent and decorate the toilet seat in toothpaste while I spent half an hour attempting to prise my acrylic nails off, he came up to me and said , mummy see that man Bruce on the TV screen ? See him ? He is not Bruce anymore- he is Caitlin. He wanted to be a lady and is now one , so we don’t call her Bruce. She is a her.  She is happy now and isn’t that good mummy?

I was so proud of my boy , so open , so kind to others, so accepting in a world where a man with orange foundation and three mismatched hairpieces has become the leader of the free world. A man who can’t even run his own twitter account is running the most powerful country on earth. But I digress…..

I have always been open with Joe. I want him to know about everything so he grows up being accepting and being aware of himself, his body and be respectful to others who love their differently to us. We have told him what happened to us when he was born so he understands why mummy had to zoom up and down to Nottingham on a train for therapy , so he understands why mummy took 87 pills before bed, so he understands why mummy needs some space sometimes. But I hadn’t prepared myself for him hearing I was scared of him.

I was never scared of you Joe. You with the little sweaty feet, the lovely squishy arms, the cute punky hair. You were and are the most beaut child I had ever seen. I was scared of the thoughts in my head. No one knows quite why but when I gave birth, something happened to my head. It was like someone pulled out bits of my brain , put them in back in with a load of lego blocks and mixed them around like a bowl on Bake Off. I lost the instruction manual to my brain and couldn’t rebuild myself. My head got confused and starting thinking things it didn’t want to – it was like when we were building the Lego millennium falcon- we were putting the pieces together and it got so confusing – so many bags of stuff and we didn’t know where all the bits went and it took 12 hours to build it properly. My brain was a melting pot of mismatched Lego bricks that I kept standing on without socks and hurting myself. I struggled to build my brain back again but I eventually did – and with your help. Hopefull, it won’t break again .Sometimes , some blocks come off and mummy thinks oh ‘ucking hell, why can’t I glue this together forever, but I manage to get the pieces back to where they belong super quick because I know where they should be. Sometimes the doctor, daddy and you help me to put the blocks back in place as well.

So it’s wasn’t you I was scared of– I was scared of my thoughts. I felt like I wouldn’t be a good mummy and when I realised I was to be a mummy forever, this scared me . You know when mummy says she thinks she wants a new job as the one she is in is doing her head in ? Its like that – but I realised my job as a mummy was forever and I was so confused that I couldn’t change this job if I didn’t like it. But I knew I wanted to like to – I had wanted you for so long . I then realized it wasn’t a job, it was my purpose. I am here to be your mummy.

As you get older , you will see and read things about how unwell I was and you may thing , erm , mother , why did you climb out of the window adorned in blue eye shadow while muttering that the clouds were trapping you and why the dickens did you run past Mr Patel’s house with no clothes on and bite daddy’s ankles so he wouldn’t leave the house ? I am aware that your teenage self in a few years will be embarrassed by me and will ignore everything i say even more than you do now but I promise I will try to not run past Mr Patel without my pants again. I would have preferred to not have done this the first time but I can’t change the past. That’s why the woman across the road has her net curtain permanently hitched up day and night – I think she doesn’t want to miss it , should I ever do a repeat performance.

As mummy’s friend Beth says , motherhood has truly been the making of me , but in a way I never expected. I never thought I would give birth and start crawling around the floor convinced I was being buried alive . I never thought I would be asleep in a bed , filled to my gills with anti psychotics In a mother and baby unit . I never thought I would shake when I saw you .But I did , those things happened , but so did my recovery.

I wanted to recover for you. And we must always remember daddy says – even when I was unwell , so unwell, I loved you. I cared for you, I fed you, I begged for help so I could enjoy you , so I could cuddle you. At times I may not have known who or what I was , but I yearned for you. I remember on my discharge from the unit, holding you in my arms , I knew I was getting better. When we entered the unit , I couldn’t close the door and be in a room on my own with you but just a week later , I did just that. It was the biggest turning point in my illness and gave us the first glimmer of hope I then understood.

A few months later , I would travel to Nottingham twice a week with you in a sling on a train – me and you , together. I would go the therapy and I remember calling granddad builder and crying saying daddy, I am getting there , I am getting better and he said , you are hen , you are and its beautiful , me and your man love you . And we don’t just love you , we adore you.

A year later , I went back to work. I had two days off a week with you and spent those days taking you to clappy sing song baby groups. I never knew I would grow to love singing the wheels on the bus 87 times a week but I did . I would count down until my days off with you so we could hang out . Blobs of play dough with raw spaghetti made by your little hands were spaceships and they still and always will take pride of place on the shelves in the lounge.

Seven years on , I could literally inhale you. You have grown from a beautiful baby to the most wonderful independent , caring child. You won your class school council election with a manifesto saying ‘ I think I should be a school councillor because I am a very nice person’ and my love, you are .You give your sandwiches to the homeless man on the street , you waved a placard around at a breastfeeding in public rally and told a newspaper photographer he was rude , you throw lego at the TV when supernanny is on saying that woman is a bell end mummy , take her away and you stood in front of the TV after brexit and said , mummy, what the uck is going on ? .

I could not be prouder to be your mummy. You may be my first child and my last child but you are most definitely my everything . Being unwell after you were born has shown me how much I love you and how much I always have. I was never scared of you mate , I was scared of what the illness did to me.

Always remember this. On your birthday , when I find you in knee deep in squirty cream and a bowl of jelly on your head , I will remember your birthday as the best day of my life because of the family it has made us. Being your mum is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I quite like your father as well.

I was never scared of you mate – how could I be scared of someone who ,when mummies nail glue explodes in her handbag and solidifies over her house keys , doubling them in size meaning they can’t stick in the key hole and she attempts to chisel them out with and toothbrush and a sanitary towel, decides to do their much needed poo in the front garden and wipes their arse with a receipt. You’re just like your mother mate – resourceful, have no embarrassment levels and a quick thinker.

You will go far my friend and mummy will be with you. Remember what I said at the Mind awards? I said you are truly the best thing to ever happen to me. Even when you decorate the house in four unwound toilet rolls.

If I am ever not with you, I will watch this video. With daddy on the drums and you doing your best Rancid impression and I will think , I make a nice chocolate cake , but Joe is definitely the best homemade thing ever.

” Leave it Aaaht Treacle, this Eastenders storyline can’t be realistic can it?”

I don’t know if you know what I’ve been up to. I don’t know if I said it enough. My mouth that can fit my entire fist in it ( party trick life goals right there eh ?) has been working overtime telling anyone who dares to be my friend , sell me my copy of the National Enquirer, comes to my desk to stare at my acrylic nails colours of the week or who reads my political rants about what I’ve been up to for the last 18 months. Aside from attempting to lose 87 stone whilst eating considerably more than a gust of wind and a glass of air, weeping at the Brexit result , stamping my little heeled feet in horror that a orange pancaked make up face man with a multi colored hair piece , wandering knob and the inability to run his own Twitter account has been voted to run the most powerful country on earth , I have been , as ever , on my mental health soapbox.

My son is soon to be seven. My dear sweet , wild boy with more personality in his leather jacket than your old anorak with a beer stain down it. My little love who is truly the best thing that has ever happened to me. Nearly seven years ago , I gave birth to him in a medicated c section haze, he was held up and looked like he was Jesus surrounded by a beacon of light and then instead of feeling like Mother Earth, I began hallucinating about climbing out of the hospital barred windows, was found crawling around the postnatal ward on on my hands and knees and then became so terrified of my own child, that I couldn’t look at or be in the same room on my own with him.

Six long , torturous weeks past. My hair fell out in clumps, I tried to scrub my skin off in the hope I would be like a snake and shedding a layer would get rid of my angst and I began chanting , going up and down stairs over and over . Bang on six weeks, I hit catastrophic meltdown point where I got on my in laws bed on all fours like a dog and screamed so hard my mouth bled at the sides, I smacked my head into a wall and then locked myself in a bathroom and spent a fair while staring at the razor thinking it looked pretty when the sun hit it. When I emerged , after my terrified husband attempted to break the door down , I collapsed in a heap , sobbing , screaming and shaking. I was in my pants , having not been able to work out how to put my clothes on and I didn’t want to be near my baby.

I was broken. I was a shell of my former self. I was unwell. I was suffering from postpartum psychosis.

I was admitted to a psychiatric mother and baby unit that morning . 200 miles from our home. I walked in , rambling , crying , my mind blown. I had no idea who I was anymore. Six weeks prior, I had been pregnant, vibrant , smiling , the girl who walked around showing people how her fist can for almost down her throat, full of joy about becoming a mother. I had had parties for the baby in my tummy , made from our love and growing with mine. But within an hour of my sons birth, I wasn’t hit by the gush of love you hear about. No. I was hit , with brute force , by an uncontrollable psychotic train. It knocked me off my tracks, and took me off on an unplanned tangent on the journey of motherhood I had planned. I spent six weeks in terror. Lights flashed in front of my eyes, I thought I was floating in the corner of the room looking down on myself,I was convinced the duvet cover was dancing , I closed my eyes and thought my head was In a vice and at my worst, I thought I was buried alive in a coffin. I felt trapped in my body, my life, in my role as a mum to a child who was here forever and I wanted to escape. Not just to Ibiza for a mad weekend but the world. I sat and thought about how I could unzip clouds and climb through them and then had blind panic when I realized I would then be trapped in space. And the fear of what would I do then!?

Since getting better, I have wanted to help other mums. I write my blog, I speak at new mum groups, I am members of online mums groups and am alerted if a mum appear to be showing symptoms so I can signpost her to safe help and support. I never just wanted to be a campaigner . I wanted to provide real help to real mums and provide an in your face awareness of perinatal mental illnesses to a wide range of people. To tell people about it who normally wouldn’t be targeted . So , I don’t know if you do know , but in May 2015, that opportunity came , when a TV soap decided to run a storyline on Postpartum Psychosis and asked my friend Kathryn Grant and I for input, as survivors of the illness. We were personally supported by the charity Mind and the wonderful Jenni Regan worked her socks off , along with APP and Bipolar UK, to ensure the portrayal was safe and accurate. Take a look at Jenni’s blog on the Mind site which gives an insight into how they did this .

So along came Eastenders and like it or not, soaps can get a message across and I think that’s a brilliant thing. Antenatal classes cost more than some people’s monthly salary and not everyone is able to jog along to these to find out about what happens when you lose your mind after dropping your sproglet. We need to cater to the masses as it’s not only millionaires have children. Real people have babies and real people watch soaps. Bar the fact that in soaps someone’s dad is also their second cousins thrice re moved dog and unless you are on Jeremy Kyle, this doesn’t happen in real life often, soaps do go some way to portray real life and in real life women get postpartum psychosis. .The positive effect is a brilliant thing.

When we were was asked by mind to help Eastenders with their postpartum psychosis storyline, Kathryn and I admit we were was pensive. Mental health is so often portrayed in a negative light in the media that I thought, oh god, what if I get involved as someone who suffered and it goes horribly wrong, the character kills her baby and a week later everyone is in the Vic drinking a gin and tonic before throwing chips at each other outside Ian’s chippy. Awareness won’t be achieved and the general public would yet again be fed an awful sensationalised version of an illness that can be devastatingly awful but one that is entirely treatable. Thankfully, Eastenders, with the support of Mind and other charities like Bipolar UK and APP, created a storyline that is so realistic in its portrayal, within a couple of short weeks of it launching, postpartum psychosis was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

I’ve been mapping social media over the last few months , picking up perceptions of the programme,the portrayal and its impact. In this blog, I will use this anecdotal evidence to show how responsible media portrayals of mental illness can be incredible at opening up conversations about mental health and inform people about conditions they have never heard of , but that could happen to them.

Why is Stacey on her hands and needs scrubbing the oven , which no one ever wants to do and thinks that her baby is the Second Coming ?

Every mums group I am in on Facebook was talking about it – why is Stacey hiding in corners ,why is she turning all the lights off , why is she on the roof of the Vic , why is she smashing all those glasses? Mick will invoice her for them .Is she off her meds and most importantly, what the dickens is wrong with her ? Surely this can’t happen after you have a baby as no one appears to have ever heard of it? Women are happy when they have a baby aren’t they ?

The comments about what on earth was wrong with Stacey were widespread. They ranged from total and utter disbelief ” I think Eastenders have stepped over the line with this crazy storyline . The moment she said Arthur is God, I couldn’t stop laughing” to sadness and sorrow.

Some people have babies and its glorious . And that’s amazing. Some people have babies and its not glorious straight away. They may be sad, tearful and exhausted but after a few weeks this lifts. It’s awful while it lasts but it goes and motherhood starts to work out for them. Others have babies and feel even more sad , even more tearful, even more exhausted and this doesn’t lift easily and motherhood is more of a struggle. It might take them more than a rest to feel better. They might need some medication , some therapy, some help from a charity while their feelings and the muddles in their mind work themselves out. And then some mothers give birth and feel manic. They hear and see things that other people don’t and believe things to be real when they are as unrealistic as could be. Did you give birth and think you were in charge of North Korea? What about thinking you were being buried alive while you were lying in bed? Or think you were locked in a room about to be attacked while trying to find a panic button? Or think that your baby was the son of God? No? Well some people do. People like me.

I manically cleaned. I once spent two hours standing still in the kitchen in fear . I forgot how to get dressed and would stare at my clothes , confused what to do with them. I thought I was on The Truman Show . I tried to climb out of a window to escape my fear. I ordered eight juice extractors and then threw them in the garden. I was afraid of my own baby and ‘I have made a terrible mistake ‘ became my mantra . I had awful visions , thoughts that would pop into my head and I was paranoid of anyone and everyone.

Postpartum Psychosis is a serious illness with dramatic symptoms , so perhaps perfect fodder for a soap opera. What became very clear though , is that Eastenders didn’t have to overdramatize any of Stacey’s symptoms , as the characteristics of the illness are enough. One comment I had about the storyline from a mum was this – ” “You have really changed my opinion on this storyline. Knowing it really does happen and is this extreme , I didn’t know”.

Stacey’s symptoms to PP sufferers was incredibly accurate. The belief that your baby is God is a real symptom, that has affected real life women. When Kathryn and I met Lacey, the actress who plays Stacey, she was really interested in how these symptoms feel completely real to the sufferer. I remember Kathryn saying her visions of being on a gurney felt as real as us being in that room that day. It’s the reality of the mum suffering. It may seem extreme but it’s real. Kathryn’s thoughts on the portrayal are here

For details on PP symptoms , please have a look at this from the charity Action On Postpartum Psychosis who are the experts on the illness and are a fountain of information and support for women and their families .

If a mum thinks her baby is flying around the living room, doesn’t that mean she could harm it?

In a word, no.

One of the things that was so great about the first few episodes of the storyline in particular was how showed how much Stacey loves her baby. There is an untrue notion that women with perinatal mental health problems want to harm their baby. Yes, people can get intrusive thoughts and visions but developing postpartum psychosis doesn’t suddenly mean you are a danger to your child and the programme went to great lengths to show this. There was an unfortunate article printed last year about intrusive thoughts with the title ‘ I want to drown my baby’ which of course is not what women who suffer intrusive thoughts want to do. Intrusive thoughts about drowning your baby may pop into your head and they are horrific and very distressing and the reason they are as it’s what you don’t want to do . The title should have been something like ‘ I had intrusive thoughts about drowning my baby’ but of course, it would have got less clicks. And hence , intrusive thoughts are not talked about which they need to be as they are very common , horrendous to suffer and absolutely do not mean the mum wants to carry out any of the things that have shot into her head.

Some of the comments that cropped up on social media were about the fact that Stacey could be a danger to her child such as ” her condition will make her harm her baby” and the ” the reason she has gone into a normal psych ward is people who are psychotic can harm their baby. That baby isn’t safe with her. It’s my opinion and I don’t care what you think”. Said the person with no medical training who uses Google as a diagnostic tool while using Twitter as the second opinion back up service. These comments were based on no real evidence but are a common misconception – mew mum thinks baby is flying around living room while bleaching the net curtains= she wants to hurt the baby.

One person , who wasn’t watching the programme said ” Bipolar is very serious. She could harm her baby” which was responded to by another person saying ” I have Bipolar , I would never harm my children. This storyline is great for raising awareness of postpartum psychosis , which is a different illness to Bipolar.”

As the programme went on , I saw this comment :
“There is a shortage of mother and baby units beds. I’m in a mums group with one of the mums who is working with eastenders as a case study. She says very few mums actually cause harm to their babies”.

Let me be clear. Yes, there are times where terrible things have happened and have done so because someone has a mental health condition. However , this doesn’t mean it’s a blanket rule and eastenders went someway to show how Stacey loved her baby and how she had no desires to hurt or was a threat to him. And she wanted to protect him and be with him. The episode where Martin went away with Arthur had people across the country in tears. It was devastating. Mums who have and had PP, we love our babies. We aren’t monsters and we want to be a mum like everyone else.

Don’t people who are already not right in themselves get this thing?

Again , in a word , no.

Well this was one that made the Internet get into a right old ants in pants tantrum. The episode aired where ( and the programme did this brilliantly ) a psychiatrist explained about PP and how anyone can get it but Stacey was at a higher risk because of her Bipolar.

The National Centre for Mental HEalt and APP have produced this very helpful leaflet via Bipolar UK , explaining the relationship between Bipolar and PP :

” Women with bipolar disorder may become unwell during pregnancy but are at a particularly high risk of becoming ill following childbirth. Episodes of postpartum psychosis occur after approximately 25% of births to women with bipolar disorder.
This is several hundred times higher than for women who have not had previous psychiatric illness. Postnatal depression follows a further 25% of births. Therefore, about half of women with bipolar disorder (50 in 100) stay well after having a baby and about half may have an episode of illness.”

I had lots of comments sent to me about this ranging from ” eastenders have got it all wrong. You can’t get postpartum psychosis unless you have bipolar” to someone responding with ” well the doctor on eastenders just stated the fact that anyone can get it”. And the doctor on Eastenders was right.

And what was so good about these debates as they inspired many media stories about PP- Kathryn and I featured in many of them – and they worked to diminish the myths of the illness and to inform people about the real facts.

I don’t have Bipolar and I got PP so the doctor on the soap was totally correct!

This would never happen in real life would it ?

There was lots of talk about whether the storyline was realistic or not.

Reading the storyline before it was screened had me very emotional when I read scripts but then when it was on screen, it was so powerful that I cried for many reasons. Crying because it was so realistic, crying when Stacey looked to the sky as if she was searching for an answer she couldn’t find anywhere else which I would when at my lowest. As she paced the square, her eyes looked sunken with fear as she looked for something or someone she could trust. The scene on top of the Vic with Martin when he told Stacey he would look after her resonated me with me so much – I remember telling the researchers at how I only felt safe with John. I would scream and shout, crying in emotional pain that he had to look after me. One day we were walking down the street and I stopped and looked at the sky. I sensed a danger but I didn’t know what off. I grabbed John and said I need an ambulance, something catastrophic is about to happen, something is coming, I can feel it. John held me, cuddled me and kissed my head. He told me I wasn’t in danger and that he would always look after me and that he loved me. The episode on top of the Vic resembled that fear, that idea that something was about to happen and Martins attempt to gain Stacey’s trust so he could keep her and Arthur’s safe.

On social media, women who have experienced PP came out to thank the programme :

” The programme has been spot on in terms of psychosis . Lacey is always fantastic at these story lines”

” The hallucinations have been filmed brilliantly. The blurred screens, seeing them from the characters viewpoint is very realistic. It’s obvious this has been researched well” .

Some people who had experienced hallucinations said the blurring didn’t work well as when experiencing a hallucination , it’s totally real to the sufferer which is true . I guess the programme needed to find a way where the viewer would be able to differentiate when Stacey was experiencing a hallucination and the blurring enabled that to happen. I thought it was good but it’s personal preference isn’t it? One scene that was absolutely incredible was when she thought her Uncle Charlie was driving her cab. It was extraordinary.

Health Care Professionals came out on Twitter in force to say they felt it’s not an accurate portrayal. Lots of things are being said such as ‘where is the health visitor, where is the midwife/this wouldn’t happen in real life/she has bipolar, a doctor would have told her family about pp when she was pregnant and have said ‘I guess if they show how hcps do get things right, it would be less dramatic wouldn’t it? ‘ Yes it would, as would the real life cases that are left hanging by lack of care from HCPs. This storyline hasn’t just been dreamed up – everyday women are struggling and begging for help and it’s not given. The reality of mums alarming symptoms being picked up is not the utopia some think it is. I get phone calls from gps saying ‘Eve, I have a woman who seems unwell with postnatal sadness, what can I do with her? ‘‘. I am not a medical professional!!!! I’ve spoken to GPs, midwives and health visitors who have told me there is no such thing as a perinatal psychiatrist. HEAD.BANG.OM.TABLE. I went to a perinatal conference last year and someone from a London MBU said ‘we always have spare beds, I’m baffled how women are struggling for help’. I spoke to him afterwards about two women who had been told they were on a waiting list for beds in the unit he worked in. No liaison , no clue.

Health professionals – don’t take Eastenders lack of you as an insult. Some of you are truly wonderful, you have fantastic pathways to care that work, mums se the same midwife all through their pregnancy, health visitors notice that mum doesn’t seem right and she is fast tracked to get help. Hurrah. However, this isn’t always the case . I am on hundreds of mums groups on Facebook, some of them specific perinatal groups where there are countless ‘ I have bi-polar and I am 8 months pregnant and no one has mentioned postpartum psychosis to me / I have told my health visitor I don’t like looking at my baby and she said she knows 16 yr. olds who have babies who are coping so I should as well/ my gp said PND is a modern illness that didn’t exist when he had children and that I should be grateful I have a child as she had a woman in surgery this morning who wants IVF/ I told the midwife I thought I saw my baby inside the pillow moving around when she was actually in her cot and she said to get some sleep / when should the midwife come ? I had a baby two weeks ago and keep phoning the clinic and they say I need to request a visit ? I have and she didn’t show up/ I had my 6 week check and read that I would have to fill in a questionnaire on my feelings and I was so relieved as I have been having scary thoughts of seeing my baby fall down the stairs and I’m scared . but at the six week check there was nothing to fill in and they only saw me for 3 minutes’.

HCPS – use Eastenders as a learning experience , a learning objective even . sling out an email to all your health visitors and say ‘ when you visit a new mum , remember she may be emotionally unwell and may feel like she can’t say. Look out for these symptoms ( List them ) and ensure you tell her you are there to help her if she is feeling overwhelmed or is becoming unwell’. I keep reading tweets saying ‘I’m a HCP and I’m screaming at the TV , where is the Health visitor’ but dont scream at the TV . This storyline is based on real life experiences and heavily lends itself to mine – john recalls how , when Joe was five weeks old our hv said ‘ to be honest, there is nothing we can do. Go to Nottingham , they can probably help you there’. However , the researchers did their work – it’s not just me who was forgotten about , lots of women have been . and I hope the storyline helps to jog the minds of commissioners to even out the postcode lottery of perinatal mental health support so that we can end the scenario of in one area a mum goes into a mother and baby unit the day after her baby arrives after her psychosis is picked up on the postnatal ward by a perinatal psychiatrist, and in the other , another mum is discharged from hospital while her mind is whirling in the air and every HCP she sees says , oh its fine , how much does the baby weigh though ?

Lots of comments I had come through said what this one does – ” I hope this storyline raises awareness amongst doctor, nurses, midwives and health visitors as well’.

Surely if you get PP, Social Services will take your baby away ?

One of the biggest fears about divulging your perinatal mental illness symptoms to doctors is that mums think they will take your baby away. I will say that when Stacey went into the adult without Arthur, I got lots of messages saying this will stop women coming forward because they think it means their baby will be taken from them.

This isn’t what happened with Stacey. Her baby wasn’t removed from her by social services – it went home with its dad so she could go into a ward where babies aren’t allowed and when a place opened up for her in a unit, she went into it with her baby. At no point in the storyline was there a mention of Arthur being removed from her for having PP.

The fear of a baby being taken is undoubtably one of the biggest reason mums don’t divulge their symptoms. It is beyond terrifying to think that by opening up to not feeling like you are in a rose petal covered bubble , that a doctor will say, right then, here take these pills, make yourself a cup of tea and pack the babies bag because Social Services will come and swoop them away at any moment. Without explanation and with a fear that they will never see them again. Health care professionals, need to do all they can to reassure mums what will and won’t likely happen, point them to guidance that explains procedures and also explain that Social Services, if they do ever become involved, actually want to support . A doctor friend of mine pointed me to this page that she shares with her patients when they say they are scared to be honest about their feelings because they are scared their precious baby will be removed from their care – .

We know that very few mothers are a real risk to their baby but there may be times of course where extra help , support and intervention is needed. But, by helping to soothe the very real fears of mums would undoubtedly mean we would have more of them coming forward early on in their illness and getting help more quickly.

I never knew this could happen. Eastenders has opened my eyes. 

Well it’s certainly raised awareness hasn’t it ? Where do I start???!!! It has been beyond the realms of anything we as perinatal mental health survivors , campaigners and supporters could have wished for. It enabled spin off programmers such as the moving ‘ My baby, psychosis and me’ documentary ( featuring my brave friend Hannah to be filmed which gave an insight into mother and baby units and the treatments offered in them.

Below are some of the comments I had about the programme and a major theme is a thanks to the BBC for researching it so well , the charities involved and bringing in real life case studies like Kathryn and I in to tell a realistic tale.

” Fantastic informative storyline”

” This whole storyline has been handled amazingly. I can’t keep my eyes off the screen”

” Eve , this storyline has really opened my eyes , thank you to all involved. The BBC , you and Kathryn, the lady Jenni you mention , the charities involved and the actors”.

“The bbc should be applauded , and mind and you and your friend. Your input into this is helping society understand my more and specifically in new mums. Thank you so much”

” My sister was talking about the storyline and she is in awe of it”

” This storyline is so educational and will help lots of parents everywhere.

” I was telling my husband how impressed I was with the storyline this evening and how sad I was for the characters involved . It’s good to know the producers/writers take their roles so seriously and get people with first hand experience involved to help them share such an important thing.”

“Well done for this.i didn’t even know this was a condition and naively put it down to her bipolar”

” The eastenders storyline has brought me to tears and now knowing the involvement of real mums, it has me even more”

” Before eastenders, I had never heard of this illness before and education really is about losing the stigma attached.

” I have been watching eastenders and although this storyline is upsetting, it has been done amazingly. It makes sense they have consulted with real life women. It will raise awareness and probably win them awards”

” It was heartbreaking to watch , my heart goes out to anyone who finds the self in that situation. It’s good that it’s being highlighted by the bbc , it’s more common than we think” .

” I am hooked on the storyline and it will help so many”

” I had honestly never heard of this until eastenders started doing to storyline. Well done for raising awareness”

Stacey needs to be with her baby – the need for mother and baby units 

Perhaps the most incredible thing to happen from the storyline is the awareness of specialized psychiatric mother and baby units. There are less than twenty across the UK and there are a million more times of women who need a bed in one. The night that Stacey went to to the normal psych ward without her baby, mums groups on Facebook erupted in horror. I had been sure to tell admin to tag me in any threads so I could explain things and I shared my blog on why units are so essential.

The outpouring of disbelief and desire to help change this was phenomenal. A woman is 33 times more likely to be admitted to a psychiatric ward after having a bay more than any other time in her life and the NICE guidelines are clear that women should be placed in a specialized psychiatric mother and baby unit. But there is one fairly big problem – we don’t have a lot of them. There are around 700,000 babies born every year in the UK. More than every one in ten mums develop postnatal depression, and 1-2 in every thousand mums develop postpartum psychosis. So , there appears to be a far amount of unwell mums but we only have 17 units across the whole of the UK.

Everyone in the medical world knows there aren’t enough units or beds in the ones that exist. And even though this is the case, units are still closing down . There are no units in Wales or Northern Ireland and it’s been said that overall , about 80 more beds are needed across the UK to support mums and babies during recovery. This means that my story of having to trek millions of miles to get into a unit is not a one-off. There are lots of women with stories similar to mine or even worse, having to take a place in a normal psych unit without their baby,which is ridiculous as it defeats the entire object of everything. Dr Liz McDonald, one of the country’s leading perinatal psychiatrists, calls this“the bleakest of all postcode lotteries” .

One person who messaged me said ” why couldn’t they just send her to one of those was where she can take the baby with her? ” and the point was , they could have , if the was a space , but there wasn’t , just like in real life. If a woman can’t get a place in a mother and baby unit and she can’t be treated at home, she can be admitted to an adult ward , without her baby. And this is what happened to Stacey in Eastenders. And the soap did this well and knew what they were doing when they wrote this part in but I am not sure they realized how powerful this story insertion would be when watched by the public, when watched by mums at home . I saw it unwind on social media and the response was nothing short of incredible . Incredible in the sense that they realized how awful this was and wanted to know how they could help change this.

A main area for concern was the fact that Stacey went into a psychiatric unit without her baby. The programmers had showed her breastfeeding in her sling so mums in these groups knew she was feeding her baby. There was horror when Martin went home with the baby and despair that she couldn’t go into somewhere with him . To put it into context, within an hour of this episode being shown , my blog on mother and baby units had been read 12,000 times.

Below are some of the comments sent to me on Facebook from people I don’t know.

” I know it’s only a programme but eastenders- can they really say Stacey’s breastfed baby cannot stay with her? I know she is suffering from her illness but she doesn’t pose a threat to her son either”

” Eve, have shared the link to your blog about mother and baby units so many times since the Stacey storyline. Seeing people discuss the storyline on Facebook and them not quite getting the reason behind it means it’s essential for them to know why it’s running”

” I know it’s just a programme but surely they can’t take Arthur away from Stacey ?” .

” I had goose bumps and cried during last nights episode . Completely heartbreaking for Stacey. Mental health in general needs to be taken more seriously in this country.

” is anyone else really affected by Stacey on eastenders tonight ? Is it correct that if a newborn is breastfed, it’s still not allowed to stay with you in the hospital? So upsetting”.

The feeling then switched to desire to help mums. The ‘what can we do’ feeling was apparent across the whole of the social media pages I am on. See some of the quotes I had sent to me below:

” this is an amazing thing you are doing with Eastenders Eve.and your friend Jenni and Kathryn and the charities involved you have mentioned. Is there a specific charity people could support through just giving or similar to help women with PP or help fund more mother and baby units?’

” wouldn’t it be time to start a petition to ensure there are enough psychiatric mother and baby units in more places around the country?”

” eastenders is tough going tonight, mum and baby should never be separated . I had no idea this went on. This is awful. How can we raise money for this Eve ? Any specific charities ‘”

In all the groups I am in and across public pages , I posted links to Open House Nottingham , a group run by former patients star of the Nottingham Mother and Baby Unit I was in, who provide peer support to current patients and Action On Postpartm Psychosis, who started the #realstaceys campaign .

There was a brilliant tweet one night which said ” ohh, eastenders just got political in the postpartum psychosis storyline” when Martin told another character about the lack of units across the country and they were right. Yes, this is the extreme end of what can happen but it’s exactly that – if there is no room at the mother and baby inn, the mum can go to a normal ward and her little baby goes home without her. Which is not what should be happening.

If you watched Eastenders you will know that as soon as Martin found out about Mother and Baby Units, he desperately tried to get Stacey a bed in one , calling them up and down the country to try and nab a space as soon as one became free. It was hard watching these scene because this is exactly what John did while trying to get me a bed- we were in London and no one knew of any units, no one knew of any beds and then John, after finding out where units were located thanks to Dr Google, sat and called them , begging and pleading to get me in. His mum then mentioned her friend had told her there was one in the hospital near them and as soon as he heard this , we packed up and got the train thee , me like a zombie on the train, staring into space. A 200 mile journey to get the help I so desperately needed ,a 200 mile journey to keep me alive.

After numerous doctor appointments , locums losing notes and doctors telling me unless I had planned my own suicide I was classed as low risk, I was assessed and went into the unit to begin my recovery. As we walked down the hallway and I saw the signs saying psychiatric wards, I was crying. John held my hand tightly and kissed my forehead. He told me he would never leave me, that he would love me forever and that I was going to get better.

When we arrived in the mother and baby unit, the nurse gave me a hug and told me everything would be ok.they were there to help me , I was safe , Joe was safe and I was going to get better. There were bedrooms, a family room, a living room it’s toys and books,a bathroom with bubble bath and a kitchen with cupboards full of chocolate biscuits,which I took full advantage off and stuffed my face. It was lovely and nothing like I had assumed a psychiatric ward would be. I was shown to my room and saw a cot in there for Joe. He obviously slept in our room at home but john was with me then. No no no he isn’t going to be in he with me is he I thought. I knew john couldn’t stay with me and the realisation that I was going to be in a bedroom on my own with joe was terrifying. I had a massive meltdown. I pushed a chair into the middle of my room and decided I felt safe in it and sat in it screaming . John got the nurse who came in and sat on the arm of the chair and cuddled me. She kept saying it’s ok eve you can do this , we will help you ok? I promise you and kissed me on the forehead.

I was in such a state , I was given some meds which I only knew as magic blue pills to calm me. Once they had , I sat on the bed with john and the nurse talked to me. John explained my terror at being with Joe on my own and she explained that in order for me to recover, I needed Joe with me. Yes, it would be hard but essentially I needed to , with safe support, feel the fear, do it, and work through the problems with the help of the unit. They said I needed exposure therapy meaning I needed to be in the unit recovering but while getting used to Joe’s presence in a safe calm environment and doing things for him on my own.

I was petrified but the nurses knew exactly what they were doing. They were clear Joe would be in the room with me , I was no danger to him but they would gently support me . So , for the first week , I slept in the bedroom next to the nurses office , with Joe in the cot ,with my bedroom door open. The nurses would sit there on a chair and when I woke up screaming , they would come and sit with me and rock me back to sleep stroking my hair telling me I was ok. They would say , Joe needs a feed and stand next to me reassuringly while I lifted him from the cot and would sit on the chair by the door , not crowding me on the bed, but not so far away that I would feel so scared that I couldn’t function.

The first week was long, hard and terrifying. John would be waiting outside the unit doors to open at 9am every morning and stayed until the doors closed at night . He would lay on my bed with me and every so often , I would feel ok to have Joe lay with us . One day, the nurses said , why don’t you have a bath. Joe was asleep and john washed me. At the time I don’t think I appreciated it but now I see what a lovely thing that was and as I came out of the bathroom the nurse said Joe needs a feed mummy and would you like a hot chocolate or something ? Gently gently, I was being guided to start accepting Joe into my life, the thing that would be a constant but what I was so scared off.

The nurses gave me hugs and promised me things would get better. One of them gave me a folder to read which contained letters from women who had been in the unit and recovered. The stories gave me hope. And they had got better.

There were nurses on duty 24 hours a day but in the unit, you are encouraged to spend time with your baby and bond. I washed Joe’s clothes, sat with him in the day, looking out of the window and reading to him and when I woke up in the night having meltdowns, feelings of being out of my body or panic attacks (which were very frequent), I could go to the lounge and talk to a nurse to calm down. My time there was very difficult – I had debilitating moments and felt scared but the help and support of doctors and nurses who understood the illness helped me on my road to recovery.
At the end of the first week there, I did something I hadn’t been able to do since the day Joe was born – I sat on my bed with my door , which had been open for a week , closed. I peered at Joe, I felt nervous but this was massive. With the support of john , the nurses, everyone in the unit, I was on my own in a room with Joe, with the door closed. It was the biggest turning point in my illness and when I emerged from my room , the nurses hugged me. My mum turned up and the nurses told her what I had done and she cried, john told me he was so proud of me. And I was proud of myself. For me , if I had been in a normal psych ward I wouldn’t have experienced that moment. It was my first big personal step to recovery and the biggest turning point in my illness.

My time in the mother and baby unit saved me. It was safe , warm , kind and caring. The staff treated me like a real person and understood my symptoms. They knew I wasn’t a monster and they knew how scared I was. And my fear was of being alive. Being alive and being mother to a child that was here forever , a child I thought was a mistake. I was cared for and nurtured. I was cuddled and given confidence. I had people looking after me who knew how to make me better and my goodness, they did. And the programme showing Stacey experiencing similar showed viewers just how important the units are :

” it’s hard to watch but totally agree there should be more facilities for mother and baby. It’s not fair to rip them apart like that’

” babies should be allowed to be with their mums at all times. Why couldn’t they get a cot in from labour ward for the baby and put it next to her”

” I work on mental health wards and they aren’t the right environment for a baby. Hence why more special mother and baby ones are needed. I think the actress deserves a medal for her acting and I believe if we keep watching it , it will highlight the need for mother mother and baby units in the UK”

My time in the unit was fairly short but my absolute recovery was far longer. I still have and always will now suffer from anxiety but it’s an after effect I can and do manage. Sometimes it’s hard , most of the time , I control it and not the other way around. But the unit kickstarted my re-introduction to being me again , into being well and I to being the mum I had dreamed of being. Because of the unit I got better and I am alive to be mummy to the best boy I the whole world ever.

If you watched Eastenders, my story might be familiar to you. Stacey got a place in a unit, she was pensive about having the baby back in with her but the staff gently encouraged it. They gave her a folder of recovery stories and the staff were kind and supportive. I saw one comment on Twitter saying ” while the action was good during the postpartum psychosis storyline , the hospital was hugely unrealistic”. The team spent an awful lot of time researching units . They visited them and Kathryn and I would get emails from the Eastenders team and the lovely people at Mind and phone calls about positions of furniture and whether flowers were allowed on units. They built a specific set and it looked very like the unit I was in and the ones I have visited.

There was a quote on Twitter that has stuck in my mind. It talked about ” the incredible power of soaps as an agent of socialization. Postpartum psychosis in our living rooms” and it’s so true. This very serious but unknown about illness ,was being played into the homes of millions in real time. It focused on many different aspects – the symptoms, the treatment and the recovery and great care was taken to ensure this was portrayed responsibly and accurately.

I don’t know if the eastenders postpartum psychosis storyline will lead to bette healthcare provision for those suffering but what I do know is that it’s informed millions of women and their families about the condition so should it bolt them out of the blue, they at least know something about it. They at least know there are specific places for them to go to get better and they know that recovery is truly possible. It may not bring us the 80 or so more beds in the units , which it has been determined we need to support those women who are unwell and bring them to a recoverable point but it has served to inform and for that , I and the other #realstaceys are truly grateful.