Pregnancy psychosis horror: ‘I believed I was Jesus and thought I saw the devil’
Stacey Gee, 31, tells Bella about her terrifying prenatal experience
When my husband Danny, 34, and I booked a trip to the Lake District last summer, we were looking forward to a having a nice relaxing break with our son Joey, now eight. Danny and I had been trying for a second child for a while, but we hadn’t had any luck and had begun to accept it might never happen.
Once we were in the Lake District, I found myself unable to sleep. “What’s wrong?” Danny asked as we lay in bed. “I just don’t feel tired,” I said, and stayed up all night looking at my phone. The next day, we were all walking up a hill to visit a lighthouse when I looked over at Joey and panicked. I was convinced that he was going to fall, so I had to walk with him to make sure he didn’t. Usually, I was a calm, relaxed person, so this wasn’t like me at all, but I insisted that I was fine to Danny. “You’re being really weird,” he said, and once back home in Wigan the next day, my behaviour got stranger.
My family were over to visit, and as I played Monopoly with my sisters Sarah, 29, and Lindsey, 26, I started predicting what number on the dice I was going to roll. Then suddenly, out the blue, I realised why I had been feeling strange. “I think I’m pregnant!” I blurted out. My sisters looked at me strangely. “What?” they said, before insisting on me doing a test. We nipped out to buy one, and sure enough, my prediction was right – the test was positive. It was a lovely surprise.
Thinking back to my last period,
I worked out I was only a couple of weeks gone, but I felt like the pregnancy hormones had heightened all my senses, and I began trying to read everyone’s palms as I thought I had psychic powers. It was clear to Danny and the rest of my family that something was very wrong with me, but when they tried to convince me to see a doctor, I refused.
The day after finding out I was pregnant, while Joey was at school, I was sitting in the kitchen when Sarah walked in with two police officers. She’d called 111 as she was worried about my mental state. She thought they’d send an ambulance but instead, they sent two police officers. “Don’t be ridiculous – there is nothing wrong with me,” I insisted, even after the female officer assessed me and Danny took me to Wigan hospital, where I saw their mental health team. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was having a psychotic episode, and after spending two days in hospital, I was sectioned under the Mental Health Act and transferred to St Helens Hospital, Greater Manchester, for treatment.
As the nurses tried to get me settled in my own room, I cried and begged to be allowed home. I still hadn’t slept and was convinced the doctors and nurses were actors and I was on a secret mission. “You’re trying to kill my baby!” I screamed, even though they were just trying to help. And because I refused to take any medication, my psychosis got worse over the next two days. At one point, I believed I was Jesus Christ. One night, wandering into the dining room, I took a piece of bread and broke it into seven pieces, as I’d become fixated by that number. I then laid them out in seven places on an empty table for my “disciples”. Then when I walked into the hot kitchen, I believed I’d entered hell and thought one of the nurses was the devil. Thankfully, the nurses found me and took me back to my room, and a nurse convinced me to start taking the medication. Due to COVID regulations, I could only see visitors in the waiting area, and after four days, Danny came to see me. All Joey knew was that Mummy wasn’t well and was in hospital, but I didn’t believe there was anything wrong with me.
After a week, a doctor diagnosed me with bipolar disorder and said that my pregnancy had triggered severe prenatal psychosis. Listening to him, I felt numb. Although I have a family history of bipolar, I’d never displayed any symptoms before or suffered with any mental health issues, so I thought I was fine. With the right medication, I eventually got to sleep after 13 days of having absolutely none, and I ate for the first time in days, too. On my tenth day in hospital, I felt much better and was well enough to have Joey over for a visit in the hospital garden. It was amazing to see him and it made me more determined to get better. I also wanted to be healthy for the baby, and over the next two weeks, I focused on eating well and getting plenty of sleep. After a total of three weeks in hospital, I was allowed home, much to mine and my family’s relief. By now, I was six weeks pregnant.
I needed to take daily medication for my bipolar, and the nurses visited me every day. I had a few episodes as my pregnancy progressed – one time I was convinced people were following me and my sisters while at the beach, but thankfully, my paranoia didn’t escalate further, and over the next few months, those episodes
happened less often. Eventually, I only needed to see the mental health nurses once a week, and in September, I started having CBT therapy to help me vocalise my feelings and reframe any irrational thoughts. By Christmas, under the supervision of my doctor, I’d weaned myself off my bipolar medication as I found it made me lethargic and depressed. Fearing the labour might bring on another psychotic episode, doctors booked me in for a C-section, but two days before, I went into labour naturally. Thanks to hypnobirthing techniques and monitoring of my mental state, I managed to stay calm, despite the labour lasting 48 hours and being very painful.
On 16 March at 1.40am, Danny was by my side as I gave birth to our son Issac, who weighed 8lbs 6oz. As our gorgeous baby was placed in my arms, after the hell I’d been through, it was the best moment ever. After spending a few extra days in hospital to make sure I was OK, we were able to bring Issac home to meet his proud big brother. As with any newborn, I had an intense first few weeks of nappy changing and night feeding. Doctors had warned there was a 50 per cent chance of me relapsing in the first few months, so Danny and I were worried. But he and the rest of my family were a huge support, and thankfully, I felt fine.
Now, Issac is four months old and is such a happy, chilled-out baby. Joey adores his brother, and despite my experience, I feel so lucky to be a mum again. But it’s too early to say if I’d like another child. It’s definitely made me think twice, but with the help of CBT, I’m more aware of the signs now. I’d never heard of prenatal psychosis before, and when I came out of hospital, I was desperate to speak to somebody who had been through something similar, but couldn’t find anyone. That’s why I want to raise awareness. Even though it’s rare, it can happen to anyone, and people need to recognise the first signs. It was a scary time, but with my family by my side, I feel happy and confident again.