I’m angry. I spend most of my day trying to suppress and control the rising tightness in my chest and throat. As you may have guessed, the main symptom of my post natal depression so far is not the traditional low mood (although there are days when this affects me), but is pure, frightening, clear rage.
I’m annoyed that my high blood pressure at the end of my pregnancy made those last days around Christmas so miserable.
I’m irritated that my friends without children rarely visit or even check in, little knowing or appreciating how much it would mean to me.
I’m livid that I feel like I’m becoming invisible, and that the person I once was has faded away.
I’m endlessly conflicted about how I feel about returning to work.
I’m infuriated that every day logistics of getting ready, having a wash and making myself look presentable, getting her in and out of the car and ensuring we have everything we need are such a struggle, and feel solely my responsibility.
I’m exasperated at myself for the pressure I put on myself, and for letting post natal depression ruin what should be a blessed time.
I fully resent that my husband goes to work each day leaving me alone to ensure our baby is kept alive.
I am displeased that my anger is affecting my relationship with my husband.
I am outraged at the physical pain women have to go through in birth and beyond.
I am frustrated that I alone sustain our baby and am trapped when doing so.
I’m absolutely furious that surgery for my third degree tear stopped me from having that golden first hour with my baby.
I’m in agony that because of our traumatic birth my husband doesn’t want another baby.