If you’ve been following either here or on Facebook for some time now, you’ll probably know that Erin’s birth was pretty shit. In fact, my whole pregnancy was less than perfect and I hated near enough every day of it. I think it’s really important to talk about birth trauma. I don’t think I did enough talking about it after it happened and I let some things fester for month and months before I finally broke down and admitted that I needed help. Erin had stopped growing so my doctor at the hospital thought it would be best to have
Yesterday was a hard day. After posting about my admittance of having post natal depression (PND) quite quickly made a doctor’s appointment. I knew that if I didn’t I would probably chicken out and not want to go. Seeking help really is the first step to recovery. My doctor’s surgery changes its rules about when you can and can’t book in advance for so getting an appointment with a particular doctor is nearly impossible. My appointment ended up being with someone who doesn’t work there very often and I had never seen before. I actually think I liked it better that way.
When I think about it, I think I knew something was wrong months ago. It was only earlier on this evening, after a row about something stupid and me crying pretty hysterically, did I admit to my husband that I think I’ve got postnatal depression (PND). I don’t think it though. Really, I’ve known for months but haven’t wanted to really admit it to myself or anyone else. It’s not just one thing that has got me here either, it’s really quite a lot of different things. I sort of feel like a bit of a broken record here but I