three women share their stories

A new role in humanitarian work also meant that I couldn’t return to Australia to give birth, and navigating the unfamiliar healthcare system in a foreign culture only added to my anxiety. After 30 hours of natural labour, medical complications led to an emergency C-section, creating a traumatic birth experience. In the aftermath, I spiralled into postpartum depression, which I didn’t initially recognise as a serious issue.

As a first-time mother, I became hyper-vigilant about every detail of my child’s wellbeing. I constantly worried about his safety, from fearing sunburn when going outside to obsessively checking his breathing. And I was terrified of accidentally dropping him.

It wasn’t until a visit to Melbourne, 14 months later, that I realised something was wrong. The family home, filled with reminders of my grandfather, triggered a flood of ‘what ifs’ about him meeting my son. After four sleepless nights, I became agitated, obsessively tidied the house and lost my appetite. My bizarre actions were noticed by my parents and friends. This led to a visit to my GP, who diagnosed me with postnatal depression and manic episodes requiring psychiatric care in hospital.

In Chinese culture, discussing mental health is traditionally considered taboo, which made it hard to explain the concept of postnatal depression to my parents. However, with the help of PANDA, I was able to communicate my symptoms in a way they could understand.

After prioritising my health, getting quality sleep and taking the proper medication, I’d recovered enough to return to Cambodia the following week. With the support of my husband, who took on the role of primary caregiver, I made a full recovery by the time my son turned two. A year later, pregnant with twins, we decided to relocate to Melbourne.

During my second pregnancy, I prioritised my mental health through regular therapy sessions and honest conversations with my parents about their own struggles as young parents. This helped me practise self-compassion and release the guilt from my first experience. Eliminating ‘mum guilt’ and focusing on your own wellbeing is crucial for being a better parent.”

‘I was haunted by flashbacks of my first son’s birth’: Emma Britton, 39

“A few weeks after my first son, Oliver, was born in December 2013, I woke up one morning realising I urgently needed help. Instead of feeling the joy I had expected, I was overwhelmed by waves of anxiety and panic. Struggling to produce breast milk, I followed a strict routine of feeding, pumping, and supplementing [with formula] every two hours, but saw no results. I thought I was a failure as a mother.

That same morning, I frantically searched the internet for postpartum care providers. However, due to the holiday season, all I encountered were answering machines.

After multiple visits to our family GP and a trip to the emergency department following a panic attack, my doctor discovered a local perinatal mental health program and I began seeing a psychiatrist weekly.

I was diagnosed with postnatal depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder [PTSD], linked to the traumatic birth of my son, which involved a fourth-degree tear and emergency surgery, preventing crucial early bonding. A turning point came when I switched to bottle-feeding, which helped my son settle into a routine and sleep better, significantly reducing my anxiety.

My second encounter with perinatal depression occurred soon after the birth of my second son in December 2018. Even before leaving the hospital, I was haunted by flashbacks of my first son’s birth, and I was struggling to sleep and breastfeed again. Recognising familiar feelings of anxiety creeping in, I contacted PANDA and their counsellors became vital sources of comfort.

A month after giving birth, the psychiatrist recommended I join the mother-and-baby unit at St John of God Hospital, which I agreed to immediately due to dissociation and a fear of slipping into psychosis. I was again overwhelmed with anxiety about not producing enough milk, fearing my baby would go hungry and it would be my fault.

For four weeks, I practised guided mindfulness and reflective journalling. Breathing techniques calmed my anxiety and connecting with other mothers eased my feelings of isolation. By the time I left, I’d formed a strong bond with my baby through formula feeding and had been successfully weaned off antidepressants.

During my third pregnancy, I applied these lessons to develop a strategy that helped me manage my wellbeing. At three weeks postpartum, I gave myself permission to bottle-feed. By freeing myself from the anxiety and guilt of breastfeeding expectations, I was able to focus on being a happy, present mother to my children.”

‘I was spiralling into a world of deep anxiety’: Claire Brett, 35

“My journey to motherhood began with the arrival of Rosco in 2018. It was a smooth pregnancy – no complications or even the baby blues. However, the following years were marked by five miscarriages over a nine-month period, beginning in August 2020.

The pandemic added extra trauma, as my husband couldn’t be with me during surgery after my third miscarriage. The only assistance I received was from a psychologist, which I had the insight to seek out as I recognised that I was spiralling into a world of deep anxiety, further exacerbated by the death of my father.

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Despite my efforts, I felt the system failed to provide adequate support. My challenges were compounded by being new in my job and not meeting the 20-week pregnancy threshold for bereavement leave at the time of the miscarriage. When I returned to work, my colleagues didn’t offer even a simple ‘Are you okay?’ or invitation to coffee, leaving me feeling isolated and stigmatised by the unspoken expectation to move on.

When I became pregnant with Jimmy, in February 2021, I faced emotions far more intense and heart-wrenching than I’d ever imagined. I feared another pregnancy loss and every day was filled with dread. Prenatal ultrasound appointments triggered debilitating panic attacks, reminiscent of the heartbreak from previous miscarriages. To make matters worse, a male specialist often dismissed my fears as overly dramatic, adding to my emotional distress. I felt pressured to downplay my concerns, which only worsened my anxiety.

After my third miscarriage, tests discovered I was prone to forming small blood clots. At 20 weeks, concerns arose that Jimmy might experience growth restrictions, increasing the likelihood of a premature delivery. This uncertainty deepened my anxiety about delivering a healthy child.

Despite feeling Jimmy’s movements and seeing his development through ultrasounds and heartbeat monitoring, I remained on high alert, crying daily, plagued by self-doubt and a growing distrust in my body’s ability to carry a healthy baby to term. Living in rural NSW, I also struggled with a lack of specialised care and support.

“To cope, I relied on self-care techniques like drinking tea, deep breathing and reassuring myself that everything would be OK. A close friend became my emotional lifeline, and I also confided in my husband. Ultimately, it was the birth of Jimmy that brought me solace. Once he was placed on me and I saw he was safe, my anxiety and sadness melted away, replaced by gratitude and relief.”

PANDA 1300 726 306; Lifeline 13 11 14.

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