”Evil voices in my head drove me to the brink of hell”
Becky Holmes, 34, from Runcorn, had postnatal depression after her first baby, but with her second, she developed a childbirth-related mental illness that almost drove her to suicide
As I stood at the bedroom window holding my two-month-old baby Dylan, I saw my mum Linda wrapped up in her winter coat with the fur-trimmed hood waving at me from across the road. She was smiling and beckoning me to bring Dylan down to her. I hurried downstairs to the front door.
“I’m just going to show the baby to Mum. She’s waiting outside,” I said to my husband Daniel, 42, who was playing with our daughter Mia, then three.
“She’s not, Becky,” he said. “She died nearly three years ago. Remember? Don’t go out.”
Why would Daniel say that? I was angry, but I took my hand off the latch. “If you say so. But she’s there,” I said, sulkily.
“I’ll take Dylan,” he said. “You’re tired. Get some sleep.”
Dylan was my second baby and he’d been born in December 2015, four weeks premature, but healthy. When he was laid on my chest I felt that rush of love all new mothers are supposed to have.
I was shocked, because I hadn’t felt anything like that when Mia was born in 2011. Back then, I felt detached. I changed her, fed her and cuddled her, but it was like looking after someone else’s baby.
I felt so guilty and ashamed, but I couldn’t help it. After two weeks Daniel went back to his job as a support worker for adults with learning difficulties. He thought it was a touch of the baby blues because I’d suffered from mild depression. But when Mia was two months old, he realised I needed help. We’d been out for a walk and I was struggling to put the pram down in the hall. Suddenly I broke down in tears and told him, “I’m in hell.’”
My GP gave me antidepressants for postnatal depression and I soon started to feel brighter. The only sadness from that time was that my mum passed away from breast cancer aged just 56 when Mia was one.
lowest point
We started trying for another baby and, after a few months, I got pregnant with Dylan in 2015. I was nervous about getting PND again, but I was sure I’d be able to cope now I knew the signs. But as the weeks went by, Daniel noticed my behaviour was becoming strange. I was anxious and agitated. Then, when Dylan was a couple of months old, the incident where I thought I saw my mum happened. I realised I’d imagined her, but over that weekend I kept glimpsing a dark hooded figure in the corner of the room. I decided to bring it up at the baby clinic in my GP surgery on Monday.
The health visitor seemed concerned, but when I explained the hallucinations to the doctor, she said, “Having a baby is a stressful time. We’ll up your dose of antidepressants.”
The hallucinations increased, but these new visions were terrifying. There wasn’t just one cloaked figure, there were loads – in the corner of rooms, outside in the street. I knew they were staring at me from within the blackness of their hoods. They spoke to me, too. “You’re worthless… you can’t look after your children… we’re coming to get you,” they said. It felt so real. Daniel was frantic and I think if it had gone on much longer I really might have killed myself.
What saved me was that health visitor from the clinic. She had promised to check on me and called round a week later. My hair was filthy and my legs and hands were shaking in agitation. The evil figures were all around me. She took one look at me and said, “Right, you need help.”
I saw a psychiatrist three days later and was diagnosed with postpartum psychosis, a rare but serious form of mental illness that can affect women after childbirth. It was far worse than the postnatal depression I’d had after Mia was born.
I was given antipsychotic medication and diazepam to calm me and help me sleep. I also had daily visits from a wonderful nurse.
The visions eased, but the anxiety started getting worse. After three weeks, in March 2016, it was clear that home treatment wasn’t working and it was arranged for me to go into a psychiatric hospital in Warrington.
‘My legs and hands were shaking’
I remember Daniel’s grandma lily, now 94, cuddling Dylan on the sofa. “Please look after the kids for me,” I sobbed.
It was a lovely spring evening and the sun was setting. Daniel is a liverpool fan and had the car radio tuned to the football. we heard the crowd singing “you’ll never walk alone” and that was when we started to cry.
getting better
As we sat in the hospital canteen waiting for my bed to be ready, I couldn’t stop shaking. I was terrified of being in a psychiatric hospital, but I desperately wanted to get well. However, it wasn’t the scary place I thought. The staff were great and I made friends. everyone there was struggling with their mental health like me.
I was there for six weeks and Daniel, who had given up work to care for the children, came to see me every day and sometimes brought Mia and Dylan. we’d stroll in the gardens and talk about everything.
Back at home, I was treated by the specialist mental healthcare home visit team. The visions were gone, but I had three more spells in hospital over the next year when the anxiety got too much.
The last one was in February 2017. I knew I was going to pull through when I started enjoying being around Mia and Dylan again. I’d tell Daniel to go down the pub to watch the football with his mates. In March that year I even packed him off to spend the day at the Grand National while I stayed with the kids.
I came off the antipsychotic medication six months ago and Daniel has now gone back to work part-time. I would have liked to have another baby but I couldn’t take that risk again. My condition has put a huge strain on our marriage. At times it was like being a single dad for Daniel, but he’s always stood by me. At one point he said to me, “If this isn’t for you, it’s OK,” meaning that he understood if my mental health meant I couldn’t stay with him and the kids.
I wish I could have enjoyed Dylan’s newborn stage. It affected our bond and it’s only been in the past year that he calls for me. Before that it was always Daniel because I wasn’t here, and that really hurt.
Mia and I have spoken about the time when Mummy wasn’t well. I wish it had happened when they were both too young to remember, but that’s not the way it was. I’m so glad we’re still together as a family. Find out about NCT’S #Hiddenhalf campaign calling for a full postnatal check-up for all mums at nct.org.uk