My 64-hour labour left me psychotic
Nina Mccallig, 30, had longed to be a mum. But as the contractions began, a nightmare unfolded…
‘Instead of feeling elated, I was scared’
Frantically, I threw all the pans into bin bags. Then I began scrubbing every surface in the kitchen with bleach. Suddenly, I noticed a man watching me from the doorway. He was holding a newborn baby and his eyes were filled with fear.
‘Who’s that?’ i thought, my mind racing. i stood there, panicked, as the seconds ticked by, before realising it was my partner, mark Bretheron, standing there, and the baby he cradled was our daughter, heidi.
as incredible as it may sound, my mind was in such a fog, i’d forgotten who they were or that heidi existed.
it was may 2016, and since giving birth days earlier, i’d been behaving erratically. it was a world away from the excitement mark and i felt when we’d found out we were expecting.
A difficult birth
We’d been together for six years and had been talking about starting a family. ‘i can’t wait to meet our baby girl,’ i grinned happily, after our 20-week scan revealed that we were going to have a daughter.
at 39 weeks, i went into labour. i had my birth plan ready – i’d done pregnancy yoga and wanted a water birth, and i’d picked the music. only my contractions kept stopping and starting.
We called the Liverpool Women’s hospital at 11am.
‘stay at home,’ the midwife said. ‘you still have a while left to go.’
i tried to sit it out, stretching on my birthing ball. But the contractions were intense. that night, every new wave of pain jolted me awake. i paced the bedroom, watching the clock, each minute seeming to last an hour as i yelled out in agony.
the next day, saturday, the pain continued, yet whenever we called the hospital, they told us to stay at home. ‘how much longer is this going to take?’ i gasped, as mark rubbed my back. i kept hoping that things would speed up. But by sunday evening, my contractions were every 15 minutes and my labour wasn’t progressing. ‘that’s it,’ mark said as i screamed out again. ‘you need a doctor. i’m taking you to hospital.’ there a scan revealed our baby was in the back-to-back position, delaying labour. ‘you’re 4cm dilated,’ the midwife said. But the baby was distressed, her heartbeat dropping with every contraction. i was rushed into surgery for an emergency caesarean. Finally, after 64 hours of labour, at 1.30pm on monday, 9 may 2016, the surgeon delivered our blue-eyed girl. only there was no sound when they pulled her from me. ‘the cord’s wrapped around her neck,’ i heard the surgeon say. there was a rush of
movement. i waited, tears streaming down my face, before finally my little girl’s scream filled the room.
she was fine and weighed 9lb 4oz. But as she was placed on my chest, instead of feeling elated, i was scared.
i’d lost so much blood, i thought i was going to die. although i had a transfusion, all the pain, fear and sleep deprivation had taken their toll.
on the ward, every time a midwife handed me heidi, i felt jittery and detached. it was the same when, two days later, we returned to our home near Walton Village, Liverpool.
i couldn’t sleep. When l closed my eyes, i was plagued by flashbacks. seeing the dress i’d worn to hospital left me shuddering. Grabbing a bin bag, i threw it inside. ‘i have to throw everything away,’ i thought, as i filled bags with all my belongings.
then i became obsessive about cleaning, too. ‘i need a fresh start,’ i said, as mark watched bemused. But i was so sleep deprived, nothing was making any sense at all.
When holding heidi, i would get distracted. i’d forget whether i’d fed her or changed her nappy. so i started writing messages to myself. When the paper ran out, i scribbled on my arms.
‘Why are you writing about a baby called hallie?’ mark asked. horrifyingly, i’d mistaken the name of my own child.
Out of control
it got worse. sterilising heidi’s bottles in a pan when she was a week old, i plunged my hands into the boiling water to pull them out. ‘What are you doing?’ mark gasped. ‘i’m numb,’ i said. i couldn’t even feel any pain.
he booked me an emergency appointment with the GP the next day. i hadn’t slept for 11 days.
But as i was talking to the doctor, i started hallucinating. ‘i can see a girl in pink,’ i screamed, running into the waiting room. i was yelling at other patients, and i slapped mark, which was totally out of character.
dashing outside holding heidi, i began knocking on people’s front doors and shouting. mark ran after me, begging me to calm down. But then the police arrived. as heidi was lifted from my arms, i hit an officer.
restrained in handcuffs, i felt so out of control, i just wanted to kill myself.
a doctor was called and he examined me in the police car. ‘you have postnatal psychosis,’ he explained. the condition affects one in 1,000 new mums. despite never having any mental health problems before, here i was in crisis, just eight days after giving birth to my daughter.
i was sectioned under the mental health act and admitted to the Broadoak unit, a psychiatric ward in Broadgreen hospital, Liverpool, then prescribed antipsychotic medication.
i had no grip on reality. ‘have i died?’ i’d murmur to the nurses.
my mum flew over from dublin, but i didn’t recognise her.
reality struck when mark brought heidi to visit me the following week, though. ‘i want my baby,’ i screamed.
Finally, the medication kicked in. i realised my illness was triggered by trauma and sleep deprivation.
mark visited every day at 2pm. he bought me a watch and i’d set the daily alarm for the time he visited. after two weeks, i was allowed home for visits. ‘i’m sorry, darling,’ i sobbed, holding heidi. as she nuzzled into me, i realised our bond was unbroken. a week later, i was discharged from hospital and cherished being back with my baby. i even took photos of our cuddles and her little smiles and shared them on a blog.
Now 16 months old, heidi is a cheeky and fun-loving little girl.
i’m so grateful to the hospital for saving us, but i think more funding should be available for aftercare.
i’m now back at my insurance job, and mark and i are closer than ever. i’m even off the medication. But not all sufferers are so lucky. Without the love and support i received, my future would have looked very different.