When you are feeling slightly deranged, if that is at all possible, you watch the clock. In my case, you watch the clock and the array of post-it notes on the wall telling you what time to feed your child. My house could not be a demand feed house. Everything was far too unmanageable and I was already being spied on by the gorgeous pink bundle upstairs, who was in a very dark room as Gina Ford, my new higher power, told me. I think the rest of the family thought we were over doing it a bit. I didn't care.
Before going to bed, my husband and I were staring at my breasts in the mirror above the fire place. A normally humble breasted woman, I looked like I had been demon possessed by the gigantic boobs of Jordan. We fall about laughing in complete hysterics and I wonder if I'm going to be alright after all. I'm so tired but all I can think about is staying awake as I might miss something, and panic about cot death, bacteria from bad sterilisation and bonding with our new son. He is so perfect and I am so frightend. I made a decision to sleep with ear plugs in with the monitor next to my ear on full blast so I could hear him crying.
I lasted about 10 days breast feeding, or what I now fondly term, milk centred masochism. I don't care that its supposedly the most natural, loving gift you can give to your new born child. He would scream and I would totally dread having to feed him. Someone very kindly told me that she hadn't known any babies die from bottle feeding. Bless her. Bring on the Aptimil.
So we're 3 weeks in and I'm really not ok. The thing with mental illness is that unless you are VERY poorly, noone sees you. Its like being invisible and standing disconnected from your own existence. Like a manequin doll, your mouth and face make all of the right movements but inside you feel like dying because its all so very difficult. What made it worse was my lack of breast feeding, natural birth and not feeling bonded to my baby. I felt like a complete failure. Thank fully gorgeous babies satanic stares and omnipotent cosmic rays had dissipated and I just felt suicidal. Seriously though, people generally aren't sympathetic and expect new mums to be tearful and in a bit of a mess. "Baby Blues" is a genuine state after a few days or birth but this was entirely different and quite honestly, telling somebody wasn't an option. I wasn't sure if it would return the state of weirdness.I felt like I'd had a luck escape.