My Postpartum Psychosis Begins, The Nightmare Begins With the Birth of My Beautiful Baby

As my illness progressed, it ran the gamut from baby blues to postpartum anxiety and depression until I ultimately unraveled completely in an episode of postpartum psychosis. 

Here’s how it happened, as I remember it:

Pre-pregnancy

I suffered a stroke. And the mother who raised me died shortly afterward. What do these have to do with postpartum psychosis?  Hopefully you’ll see the connection.

Conception

From conception to pregnancy, my baby was planned. Leaving little to chance, I charted my fertility cycles, taking fertility tests to confirm I was truly ovulating. 

I verified the conception with a reliable pregnancy test in which a telltale blue line made a significant guest appearance after my first missed period. Shortly after learning I was pregnant, I began a regimen of iron supplements to promote brain development in the unborn baby. 

In Utero

I took excellent care of my baby in utero, even giving up coffee. Under the guidance of my psychiatrist, I tapered off all of my psych meds completely. Was this a contributing factor to my eventual breakdown? You decide, but understand stopping your psych meds is definitely considered a risk factor. I made up my mind that I was determined to give birth to a healthy child.

During My Pregnancy

The days of my pregnancy were the happiest of my life. Sure, my feet swelled up, but I only experienced morning sickness once while bending over to tie my shoes. A pair of slip-on sneakers took care of my swollen feet and cured my morning sickness problems!

During the course of my pregnancy, a special obstetrician for high risk pregnancies followed me due to my history of stroke, but I don’t recall being screened for a history of mental health problems. I wasn’t forewarned that my history of bipolar disorder and previous psychotic break meant I was at greater risk for developing postpartum psychosis. 

Plus I felt so good; how could anything go so terribly wrong?

Birth

During labor, I experienced contractions so extreme my body lifted off the steel surface of the birthing table in waves with each contraction. These seizures were so intense during active labor, I asked the delivery nurse, “Is this normal?” She replied with a cursory, ‘yes.’ 

Then two pushes later, she ran to the delivery room next door to grab the on-call obstetrician who had only enough time to don one rubber glove before he caught the infant I was birthing, one-handed.

Day 1 Inpatient

I couldn’t successfully breastfeed the baby on my own.  My baby wouldn’t latch. The maternity nurses were so aggressive that I felt like a failure.

While in the hospital, I became apathetic toward my sweet, little baby, forgetting to

ask the maternity nurses to bring the infant to me in the plastic cart on wheels from the nursery. 

This was the beginning of my detachment and the start of my failure to bond with my newborn. Mid-day, a doctor making her rounds announced her intent to discharge us.

Baby Blues

I fainted in the doctor’s arms upon learning of our imminent discharge. Crying, I begged the doctor to let me stay until I could at least breastfeed the baby on my own.

Postpartum Anxiety

At this point, my maternal anxiety ramped up.

As my husband secured the baby’s rear-facing car seat into its base, I wondered when my maternal instincts would ‘click’ into place. 

Now that that little family I had longed for was complete, I was terrified of leaving the hospital.  I had the urge to call my mom and cry, but she was gone. There was no turning back: I was the mother now.

Going home with my new baby felt like a nightmare instead of a dream