10 years ago on the 30th March 2006 I gave birth by caesarian section to my first child - a beautiful baby girl who we called Tehilla, which means ‘praise’ in Hebrew. She was perfect and I was full of hope, expectation, and love. 

The early days were a whirl of nappies, visitors and feeling sore but happy. I was exhausted, but no more than any other first time mum; Tehilla lost weight over 10% of her birth weight but I was told that was to be expected. As she failed to gain weight I started feeling panicky. Every health professional that visited told me to continue to breastfeed even though, by now, I was exhausted, tearful and feeling like an inadequate mother. 

I persevered and eventually, at four weeks, Tehilla's weight stabilised and began to increase whilst my mental health rapidly declined. When she was eight weeks old I stopped sleeping. Completely stopped sleeping. At night I would lie awake listening to the ticking of the clock, the breathing of my husband,  he snuffling of the baby and I would will her to wake up so I would have a reason to be awake too. 

During the day I would pace around the house in a heightened state of anxiety, not wanting to be indoors but panicking if I did go out; feeling utterly exhausted but at the same time unable to relax: my mind looping and spiraling with constant repetitive thoughts and feelings of desperation. I became hypersensitive to noise and light but I
felt numb inside. I forced myself to eat even though my stomach was constantly churning. I shut myself off from my friends and other new mums. I couldn't muster the energy to go out; I couldn't relate to talk of baby groups and I couldn't follow a conversation. I wasn't able to read or even watch TV: I couldn't concentrate on anything as my mind whirred constantly. I wished I could run away. I wished I could run away from myself. 

I was petrified of telling anyone how I truly felt but, at the same time, I was desperate for help. 

It was very hard for my husband who found my moods very difficult t deal with, and, at the same time, was in denial about my condition. My mum came to stay and I remember her asking me, "don't you feel happy when you look at Tehilla?" I felt terrible to admit to her that I didn't. I remember telling a health visitor that I would rather been a double amputee than feel like this - and I truly meant it. I would have given every penny I had, sold my house, sold a kidney to feel better, just for one day. I really believed that I would never escape the emptiness I felt inside and the madness I thought was my destiny.

Each doctor I went to told me it was just baby blues and, because I was coherent, I wouldn't really depressed. The Piriton tablets (!) I was prescribed didn't help me relax and I still couldn't sleep. Some nights I think I hallucinated with exhaustion, kidding myself the awful visions were dreams. In the end, after about 8 weeks, I was referred to a psychiatrist, who changed the course of my life. I was immediately told to stop breastfeeding, was put on at least three types of very strong medication and blood tests revealed I was dangerously anaemic. During the first couple of weeks post medication, I felt desperate every hour but I hung on by speaking daily to my doctor, to The Agency for Post Natal Illness (APNI) and a survivor who constantly reassured me that I WOULD get better. Some minutes of some days I felt like I was hanging on by a thread that could snap at any time.  

I would check my mental state constantly (thinking about over-thinking is exhausting!) but the days did become more tolerable and I began to be able to go out for walks with Tehilla, I starting running again and enjoying the late summer evenings. I vividly remember stepping out, getting on a tube and enjoying a first gin and tonic with my oldest friends in a Kings Cross bar and thinking I might just be able to contemplate having a normal life again. As summer led into autumn, I began to feel truly alive, and better. 

It's now 10 years since I had Tehilla and she's developed into a beautiful and sensitive girl. I've gone on to have two more girls, after thinking I never would, and thankfully the depression and anxiety has never returned. I am grateful for my life, and my sanity, every day. I hope that my experiences has helped me help others as a councilor and I have decided to dedicate the next ten months of my amazingly normal life to remembering and helping those mothers who are suffering like I did.

I am setting myself a goal: to run 10km every month for 10 months from Tehilla’s 10^th birthday to raise £1,000 to help support the wonderful and tireless work that APNI do to support mums like me every day. They exist solely through kind and generous donations.

Post Natal Illness affects 10-15% of all post-partum mothers. Symptoms can range from mild anxiety through depression, post traumatic stress disorder and psychosis. These are all horrendous conditions to suffer at any stage in life but, coupled with having a new baby, symptoms can be over-whelming and intolerable. 

The government does little to support postnatal mothers and, with the endless cutbacks to mental health services, it can be nigh on impossible to get the support you need if you are a mum in need or trying to help a loved one. The Association for Post Natal Illness is a lifeline for depressed mums, coupling them with others who have been in their shoes and recovered and who can offer practical help and much needed reassurance.  

Please help me to help APNI and to remember the journey I started 10 years ago and which, luckily, has a very happy ending…