Don't Forget Dad - Guest Post by Robyn De Beer (Mrs D Plus 3)

After my first child was born I was very unexpectedly struck down with Post Natal Depression.  I know ‘struck down’ sounds a bit dramatic, but that’s how I felt.  I went from a perfectly normal pregnancy where I was counting the minutes until I’d meet my little boy, to almost not being able to be in the same room as him when he cried.

I was so withdrawn and ashamed about how I was feeling that I did everything in my power to hide it.  I actually did a very good job of pretending to the outside world that I was ‘fine’ and life with a new baby was ‘fabulous’ even though it was anything but.

The problem was that I was unable to hide it from my husband.  Living in the same house together and sharing the same bed made it impossible.  He watched me slowly fall apart and listened to me sob myself to sleep night after night.  I was in such a massive state of denial, that in my mind I was hiding it all from him too.

I believed (at the time) that our baby didn’t love me he just loved his Dad.  Why was it that Dad could settle him and I couldn’t?  How come Dad went all doe eyed when he looked at him and I didn’t?  How did Dad get to bond with him so quickly and I couldn’t?  All these questions were running though my head every second of every day making me build up huge walls and barriers of resentment.  I was horrible to him and it wasn’t his fault at all.

Our relationship, which was once rock solid before this little human was born, was falling apart too and I couldn’t even see it.   The more he tried to help the further away I pushed him, until one day he decided to have a intervention and he called my mum.  I was so angry with him for doing it because I saw it as the ultimate betrayal of trust.  This was MY secret and not his to share.

Some time later and upon reflection I can now fully appreciate that by stepping in and doing something he not only saved me, but also saved us, and I will always be so grateful for that.

During the months I suffered from Post Natal Depression the focus was so much on me, the new mum, that very few people actually asked how my husband was doing.  Although he was over the moon by with the arrival of our precious boy, he also had to silently watch me suffer from the sidelines and that could not have been easy for him.

Having a new baby affects everyone differently.  Some people cope perfectly well and others struggle.  It is not always just the mums that struggle; it can also be the Dads and relationships too.

If you are reading this and think that you or your partner may be suffering from Post Natal Depression than please visit or call PANDA (http://www.panda.org.au/) on 1300 726306

Written by Robyn de Beer at www.mrsdplus3.com

"Real life tales of a stay at home mum with three kids. Honest and often humorous, I cover all the ordinary moments that can often be extraordinary if you look closely enough. My blog appeals to anyone who loves cooking with a thermomix, appreciates the odd 'hair-pulling' moments the school run or kids dinner time can bring, loves photography (especially the amateur kind), and sees the bright side of parenting. Life is different every day."

Am I Being Precious or Are Professionals Lacking Compassion These Days?

Working as a travel consultant in various capacities over the past six years has kind of worn down my passion for travel to places like New Zealand, Fiji and Bali. It's like walking into McDonalds and ordering a plain cheeseburger. Not very exciting and quite run of the mill when it's your 10th request for the day.



It took me awhile to realise that it wasn't about me when  a client came in to enquire about these kinds of destinations. I had no idea how long they'd been saving for their holiday, that this was their first family holiday and they thought they could take their family of 5 for 7 days for under $3000.

That was before I learned to ask them their story. To take the time to find out why they were going and what their expectations where, to connect with them as humans and to build a relationship with them so that booking their holiday became part of their whole experience.

Once I had gleaned this information from them and established a working relationship, I was able to get excited for them and the plans they had to help breathe life into them. If their expectations were unrealistic, it gave me a pivotal point to return to and be able to remind them why they were wanting what they were wanting. The connection we built showed them that I cared and they were not just another number to be recorded in my KPI's at the end of the day.

Recently, I've had an experience of the shoe being on the other foot. It's been with my obstetrician (the joys of going via the public health system). No matter how I look at it, I am really struggling with the lack of relationship, rapport and compassion that emanates from this man who appears to be in his 70's and the fact that I am purely another number to him (completely my own interpretation of events).

I get the fact that seeing pregnant women day in and day out is the norm for him. However, this is my second viable pregnancy, with a significant amount of years between the two; I want to feel special and cared for when I see a health care professional. My experience has not been a one-off either. For each of the 3 appointments I've had, it's been the same.

On the first visit, I was with him all of 5 minutes. He asked whether I was wanting a natural birth or c-section. I said I was leaning towards a schedule c-section based on past experience. He told me I would heal much quicker if I had a natural birth and that a decision would be made at 36 weeks. End of conversation. No room for discussion.

On the second visit, he asked the question again; to which I gave the same response. This time he asked what had happened and I told him a few of the details. I didn't feel at all comfortable and in some way was feeling guilty for the experience I'd had with Number 1. He repeated that I would heal much faster if I had a natural birth. End of conversation again.

On the 3rd visit, he asked if I was still wanting a c-section (after checking baby's heart and telling me I had a big baby - what the?) to which I replied yes, based on what's happened before I would prefer this option. His response was that he would go and book me a date. End of conversation. Discussion = nil. Rapport built = nil. Comfort with interaction = nil.

I've looked at this from every angle I can think of and yet there's something  that really pisses me off. I know that I have no control over how he has chosen to act in this situation. I am only able to control my response and the meaning I choose to give to this strange encounter. It's given me an opportunity to conduct my own research, speak to other mums and health professionals to seek their opinions and thoughts. So in a sense, it's allowed me to educate myself on a much greater level, rather than relying on the opinion of one so-called medical professional.

As I sign off for now, I'd like to leave you to ponder and mull over the following, leave a comment and let's start a conversation around this:

* Where in your life are you treating things as 'run of the mill' rather than unique experiences and opportunities?
* If you are stuck in a rut and running on autopilot, what could you do to add some excitement and fun back into your life?
* If you've been on the receiving end of someone else's lack of compassion, what did you do to turn the situation around?

Until next we meet - take care and continue to be your amazing & awesome self xxx

The Help

Sitting on the couch with the psychologist across from me, re-telling my birthing story again with tears streaming down my face, I began to wonder if I would ever get over what had happened. Every time I went there I was asked to tell my story. I get it now that she was trying to de-sensitize the experience for me. It just wasn’t working and definitely wasn’t helping. I was caught in a spin cycle, just like that of a washing machine – going round and round, faster and faster. I had no exit strategy, no way of getting out or escaping the feelings that engulfed me whenever I was taken back to that life-changing experience.

Whenever I thought about it, it would dredge up feelings of failure, helplessness, hopelessness, being out of control, not being perfect, not being good enough. These feelings made my heart feel heavy, my chest tight and then the sadness would set in, like a tonne of bricks weighing on my shoulders.  I felt trapped. I loved my baby. I hated what had happened when she was brought into the world. I just couldn’t move on from that.

I realise now I had no control over what happened with the way she arrived into the world. I had a choice though as to how I responded and the meaning I gave the event. Back then I didn’t realise. I was naïve, ignorant and uneducated.

The psychologist t told me one day she didn’t believe I had post-natal depression. It never sat well with me any way. She had another label for me, post –traumatic stress disorder. On one hand  it was a relief, on the other I was still entrapped by a  “label” of what I was going through.

Once I accepted it was post-traumatic stress, I was able to move on a little. Our sessions then took on a different focus, and began delving into my relationship with my partner. He couldn’t understand why I could just snap out of it, why I couldn’t get over it, why I couldn’t just enjoy being a mother and being home all day with our beautiful girl. We started to argue. Constantly. Whenever we were together, we’d end up arguing. Me out of pure frustration of not being able to communicate what was happening and him out of pure frustration that he came home to a helpless mess.

Part of me was jealous of the fact that he got to go out into the big wide world every day and talk to real people who didn’t pee or poo on him, who didn’t vomit between his breasts just as he was about to head out the door. I was envious that he didn’t have to worry about when baby last ate, how much she ate, when she was going to sleep, how he was going to soothe her cry. I longed to be connected with the real world again.

As I discussed my relationship with the psychologist, the struggles we were having, the issues with communication, me feeling like my actions were controlled by him, she began to wonder if he had narcissistic personality disorder. Another label pulled from the endless pot of labels that seemed to come from the health professionals. She’d never even met him. I must have told a great story about him though for him be to sporting his very own label. I’ve never told him about that.  He probably would have forbid me from going back to her.

For the longest time I believed that how I felt was in direct proportion to how my partner was treating me or how I perceived him to be treating me. I thought my happiness was hinged on him being in a good mood or a bad mood. Flicking back through my memories and other previous relationships, it was a strategy that I had always run. I had no idea that I was in control of my feelings or that I actually chose how I wanted to feel.

Being happy for me was always tied to being in a relationship with a guy where I felt worthy and wanted. I had to be in a relationship to experience happiness. When I realised this much later on and realised how much control and choice I actually had when it came to mastering my emotions and being in charge of my own life, it was like discovering Pandora’s Box had been hidden under my bed for the past 30 years.

I couldn’t believe it! Who’d have known that I had the innate ability to make myself happy or sad or good or bad or elated or dreaded or ecstatic or depressed? That I could choose the meanings that I assigned to events in my life. Who knew that I had the power and the ability to move beyond circumstances and that my happiness in life was directly in proportion to how I felt about myself. Its been the discovery of this power that has led me on a journey of learning more about human behaviour, what makes us tick, how we choose our beliefs, how we communicate with the rest of the world and has ignited a passion from within to help others discover their Pandora’s Box and open up a world of endless possibilities for themselves.