Mum life and medication

I’m always the first one to admit, I’ve had mental health problems for as long as I can remember, I’ve seen the doctors, I’ve tried the medications, I’ve had the hospital visits. It’s not something that I am (and no one else should be) ashamed of, I’ll shout it from the rooftops if it gets more understanding about it out there if needed.

And being a mother doesn’t make those problems go away, in fact, sometimes, it makes them worse. My anxiety levels are through the roof. What’s that mark on her? Is it a rash? Is she meant to be breathing like that? Is she breathing at all? And so on and so forth. Every little thing can cause worry, whether you are a first time, or a true parent veteran. And google doesn’t help.

I know the signs myself, and I am always first to admit when I need a little extra help to get me back on track mental health wise, but as a mum, you no longer are first priority, it happens, and sometimes it takes a little while to notice that skipping that meal isn’t because your baby needs something, and sleeping in a little longer isn’t because your baby has. Which is where I come in, I was doing these things, first I blamed it on the house move, then on the stress of organising the new house, then I ran out of excuses.

The lack of interest in anything, the sleeping more but feeling like it’s less, the skipping meals due to lack of hunger, but that’s fine, I’ve done that before and I’ve bounced back. Then it started affected me as a parent, I found myself waiting until my boyfriend would deal with my crying baby, choosing to do the dishes instead of electing to feed her, letting it all fall on his shoulders while I found some excuse why I shouldn’t do it. Does this make me a bad mum? No. She never went without, she was always clean, fed and happy (thank god for my boyfriend). And yes I did some things, it’s not like I avoided everything completely, I changed the nappies, and I would feed her, but my interest in doing so was getting less and less. That’s when I knew I needed some extra help.

So off the doctors I went, pleading my case and explaining my situation, not a single judgemental look was sent my way by my sympathetic doctor, maybe she was a mother herself and understood, maybe she had encountered others like me. Who knows. All I know is I felt comfortable telling her how I felt like a bad mother and that I was failing as a parent.

That’s all it took, telling my story to her, requesting medication and boom, prescription filled and I’m back on the medication I know works for me, easy.

Admitting you are on medication comes with a stigma all on its own, but not for me, I know that my brain is a organ just like my heart or lungs and that sometimes it needs a little extra help to get back on track. Will I be on medication forever? Maybe? Maybe not. All I care about is that it gets me back on track to the parent I know I should be and want to me, the parent my tiny human deserves, not the parent I feel I am right now.