Recently, we have been here there and everywhere. I’ve crossed the Severn bridge more than I care to admit recently. It’s been an endless tirade of motorway trips. 

With all this travelling around it’s meant leaving the boys with other people to look after. 

It was during one of these trips that some staggering differences in myself struck me full force in the heart. It is the realisation of how much post natal depression robbed me of after I had M. 

After I had M it took me the longest time to realise I had PND. I was massively in denial, don’t get me wrong, I loved him, I did all I could for him. Did I connect with him? I thought I had, but it’s now glaringly obvious I didn’t. 

I left M with his grandparents 14 days after he had been born to go to a funeral. I didn’t even bat an eyelid. I left baby J with the same set of grandparents when he was 7 weeks old and I felt physically sick. I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t know how I could leave him. 


The realisation that getting help so early on has really made a hell of a difference. 

I feel bad that I wasn’t as connected to M. It makes me feel awful and guilty and these are emotions in having to deal with now. I can’t change it, I can’t go back in the past, but it hurts. I feel robbed. PND is a sucky thing, but thank god I seemed early intervention and have avoided another catastrophic start. 

I’m happy, I’m coping. I’m not letting the stress we are under consume me. I’m definitely on the road to recovery. 


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