Pregnancy and depression

One thing, that used to wierdly upset me as a kid was watching other kids eat and cry at the same time. In the canteen at primary school there was always one kid who would cry so much she couldn't chew her packed lunch and her lemon curd sandwiches would fall out of her mouth and down her coat that she never took off. That kid was me. And I just spend all weekend doing it again.

I wonder what people must've thought seeing a grown woman, heavily pregnant, in floods of tears on the hottest day of the year in London Fields, and then again on Milfields Park, dribbling sausage roll onto her Barbour jacket (I no longer like lemon curd and C&A has since closed down).

I had heard that women in their third trimester get emotional, only the other day I sprayed my face with too much fake tan and burst into tears (looking back THAT, was funny) but no one warned me of the gut wrenching, heart smashing 'end of an era' come down that I spent the weekend with. And when you can't drink, smoke, or take the bipolar meds that have been propping you up for the last decade you HAVE to sit with it, and lie with it for hours often days on end because in the absence of those meds you can't sleep either. I live alone, and so there is no partner or housemate to come home to, just a couple of cats who sit on the bottom step by the front door, giving me that 'and where the f**k do you think you've been whilst we've been waiting to be fed and loved' look.

Maybe I'll try skipping?

Obviously I'm thinking thats it, game over, I'll never be happy again, whilst washing up piles up and so does my floordrobe, and that familiar 'you MUST call me/come over' next time gets shoved between a couple of records never to get found again. Today I'm supposed to be writing an upbeat and inspiring article on an ex-celeb I interviewed yesterday, and tomorrow I'm supposed to be filming with a TV company on a documentary portraying how women with bipolar can still make brilliant mothers but I'm feeling more like playing "Try not to guess what I'm thinking" with myself instead. 

If anyone else says "Try yoga" I'll tape them up and play the Hokey Cokey at full volume on repeat.

I found out I'm having a baby boy! But who has unfortunately been given the working title 'Mr Sue' as I was convinced he was going to be a girl. He is currently going through a phase of solo disco dancing competitions in my womb, he doesn't stop kicking and spinning and that alone cracks a smile on my face that otherwise resembles Shirley Carter after a Walford Christmas special. Then again I am worried that even he will judge me when he is born because I can't find the perfect door pull handles to go with the nursery furniture I have made, which is probably crap too.

Onwards and upwards, I was told by gynaecologists in my twenties that I risked acute fertility problems and here I am six months up the duff, spring is also in the air, and, and probably lots of other exciting things are going on around the corner which I just don't know about.

Happy belated birthday to anyone who's birthday was this time last year.

Complaining vs Excercise

TV commercials where pregnant women stand on stepladders and perfectly paint walls are misleading! I've tried to conform to the idealistic media portrayal of the modern pregnant woman but it's not going to plan. Yes, I am decorating mother and baby to be's bedrooms with the help of my friend and painter, but I can't do more than ten minutes at a time without putting my back out - I crawled under a table to rescue some pins before my cats got to them, underestimated recent growth, got stuck - harassing friend/painter when the next lunch break is - contrary to builders' average twelve tea breaks a working day I'm on the the same amount of lunch breaks - and having to clean white paint off black cats.

To save money on shabby chic I've been making my own, painting everything in sight an 'antique white' then pasting embossed vintage printed paper onto it. But when you're happy with the results it's difficult to know when to stop and, being a bit over excited combined with mild OCD pretty much everything in my room has now been painted and papered, bedding included "What do you mean I have to strip the bed first?"

Although the radio has kept us entertained yet ten grand poorer a day - every time we can't be bothered to enter competitions we get them right - it's also driven us a bit mad. *****FM have been playing the same playlist all day, every day, and although I'm not one to complain, I did just that. In fact everything that winds me up about other people I seem to be doing a lot of lately. I can't bear it when all pregnant women bang on about is being pregnant and I am doing just that, to the point I've had to look for online 'bump' groups to give my poor friends a break. I also can't bear profile pics of newborns (because it's not you!), yet I'll probably do that too. Also in the profile pic firing line are when people have pictures of themselves with unplugged guitars or mics  "Hey guess what? I play guitar or sing". Anyway.. I emailed said radio station, explaining that the two of us are working soley together for long days, that neither of us can sing anyway, that repeating the same track over and over is driving us a bit mad. I kept out the bit about having racing hormones, and about abstaining from my regular mood stabilisers, as I didn't want them to forward it to any mental health services or even worse 'Noels Christmas Presents' but politely asked if they could play something different.

But no reply, and no change. Next day.. nothing.  By the end of the week.. nothing. So, when I switched on said radio station at the weekend to find the same tunes were still being played, I drafted a fake letter from my fake solicitor to shake them up a bit..

Dear ***** FM London - Scheduling team

I am writing to you on behalf of my clients Ms Hudson and Ms Blue following a complaint written you yourselves dates 14/01/14 RE: Repetition of playlist which you have chosen to ignore, so my clients have passed this unfortunate situation on to my company law firm for representation and we have agreed.

Failure to reply to such complaint puts you in breech of your listener satisfaction agreement, which I will need to obtain a recent copy of from your HR department within 14 days of receipt of this letter which has been signed and dated for our records.

My clients have since lost their decoration/restoration business as a result of your playlist continuation, due to psychological instability which it has caused. Ms Blue had to be rescued by a specialist recovery service because Ms Hudson who having heard Gary Barlow over and over to the point of despair - wallpaper pasted Ms Blue to the wall where she was left - to numerous accounts of Sam Baker - for three days and nights. Once rescued, Ms Blue painted Ms Hudson, restricting her breathing pores and now Ms Hudson is in a coma. She called me from her coma this morning with news that she may not recover.

I am therefor obligated to put in an application for costs such as follows..

- Loss of earnings amounting to £20,800 per year

- Ms Blue's rescue fees amounting to (and including trauma counselling costs to rescue team) £6,000

- Ms Hudson's medical fees (including medical staff Christmas Party) £16.050

So an initial payment of £42,850.00 plus annual costs of £20,800.00 until retirement age (tbc as I only have their 'DJ' ages on record).

Yours Sincerely

A*y McBe*l

Of course we could always tune into a different station but then I'd have nothing else to complain about and at this stage of pregnancy complaining is the only exercise I get..

Jelly Babies and eBay

Pregnancy aside, mentality aside, I'm unfortunately caught up in the part paranoid part reality 'What must people think of me' culture that still exists, decades after our grandmas twitched net curtains and aunties gossiped over garden fences. It still happens. We're not the doorstep gossip bunch we were during the war but chardonnay and facebook still hosts the best chin wagging.

Being bipolar I expected.. 'I don't think you can handle it' and 'It's not the right time' (Hello, wrong end of my thirties) and 'But what if you have a bad day?' and I did get all of the above. These reactions were, however, on delivery of the information I gave, that “I’m pregnant”. But when put.. "I’m having a baby" I got, even from the same people, 'You'll make a great mum!' and 'It's perfect timing' and 'How exciting!'.

And then come the questions, the SAME questions, for the next seven months to come, for which I reply, more animated (it makes up for enthusiasm) each time.. "Due 11th June, we find out at our twenty week scan, and no it's not yours"

The support is overwhelming (good overwhelming, not go into hiding overwhelming), old friends come back, flowers come from from proper florists, families rebond.. I'm starting to wish I'd popped babies out sooner, except that gyno's branded me infertile in my twenties obviously, a somewhat dark yet appropriate 'Should've Gone To Specsavers' commercial.

To answer the question people probably don't want to ask me, yes there is a chance the child could develop bipolar in later life, not a strong one, but it's out there. There's also a chance of lots of other stuff.. pregnancy like any condition has risks, they just have to be minimised by lifestyle changes and attending appointments.

Another question and people do ask me this one is if I can still take me meds. I can but I don't. Can being that I'd need to change to safer types ie from lamotrigine to olanzipine (the mood stabilisers), and from venlifaxin to sertreline (the anti-depressants/anxieties) but I've been on both before which is why I switched over to begin with. Olanzipine is like (I imagine) smack but without the fun bits, and sertreline made me a bit too lively. Obviously, different meds affect different people, the above have kept fellow 'geniuses' out of trouble for decades. My propanonol (beta blockers) and zopiclone (sleepers) are a no go area. Instead I just have to panic and not sleep.

Can I stay well without the meds? Ironically I feel more stable without my mood stabilisers than I ever have, but then I have a healthy lifestyle and routine forced upon me. Maybe thats the cure for mood disorders? Get up the duff? Yes I've had a few mood swings, namely in the first trimester where the rest of the pregnant world do as well, but only around people who push my buttons. I've had to ask for a bit of space, a bit of sensitivity, a bit short of a hundred times, but falling on deaf ears I have spat my dummy out a few times. I think thats called being normal, not 'having an episode'.

But the biggest problem for me personally, which contradicts the prediction of my ever growing team of doctors - consultant obstetricians, counsellors, CPN's midwives, specialist MH midwives and peri-natal doctors, seriously, between them there are more initials after their names than the alphabet - is depression, rather than mania or psychosis. Stuff I used to enjoy I don't. Stuff I used to run home to, I don't even leave the house in the first place. I cannot get excited about anything, and I'm a naturally very excitable person. People that suggest going for walks.. it's December, cold and wet and dark, and Homerton doesn't have the same qualities of say Downton. People that suggest reading a book need to check out my bookshelf first.. I have a mild obsession with criminal psychology and personality disorders. But, a bit of perspective goes a long way.. yesterday I was sitting on the sofa in front of the telly, eBay on my lap and sinking Jelly Babies, thinking to myself  'God, all I can do in the absence of merlot and high disco kicks is shopping and eating, poor me' yet on the telly was a documentary about the Jews in Nazi occupancy.

Onwards and upwards.. and here’s to a nearly happy and very healthy 2014!

Mail On Sunday article November 2014

Have your tippex handy because I didn't write the headlines..

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2523686/Im-scared-forced-caesarean-row-Im-reassured--Im-bipolar-pregnant-too.html#

.. and for the full unedited article..

When I first read about the case of Alessandra Pacchieri I was shocked, we all were, and it naturally threw up some questions about my own situation.

Like Alessandra I suffer from bipolar affective disorder. I’m also pregnant with my first child. I too made the decision to come off medication, to prevent any harm to the development of my unborn child.

Although coming off medication (a cocktail curbing mood swings, depression, anxiety and insomnia) I am under the supervision of the CMHT (community mental health team) who continue to monitor me without meds. I have been strongly advised to take a short term course of antipsychotics on delivery, possibly in a mother and baby unit, as there is an apparent high risk in women with bipolar who suffer post-natal psychosis due to the huge drop in hormones. Another medical professional however told me the risk of this happening is in fact low. Conflicting professional advice does make me feel a little like a player in a game of "What If?".

The decision to become a mother wasn't an easy one, I was always aware of the risks involved; bipolar can be hereditary, certain medications including one I was on can have cardiac effects on the baby, and how would the child feel about his or her mother having a serious mental illness etc.. but I never thought I'd need to address these because I was told by gynaecologists in my mid twenties that I had fertility issues as a result of PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome). I also have fibroids which can affect a healthy pregnancy, and, I'm in my late thirties, so when I was hit with the shocking news of pregnancy, I didn't think it would last and prepared myself to be one of the unfortunately high statistics that miscarry. Just as I entered my second trimester, the 'safe' stage thereon, the case of Alessandra Pacchieri flooded the press, obviously triggering my own fears and “What if’s?”

Under the umbrella which is the CMHT, I see a perinatal doctor (a specialist psychiatrist who supports expectant mothers during, and for up to twelve months after birth). A standard referral was made by my regular consultant psychiatrist. This is separate to a mental health midwife who plays more of a medical role in the pregnancy. I also have a CPN (community practice nurse) who supports more practical needs. I am not sure if Alessandra had an extensive team allocated to her here in England, the ambiguity she describes says she perhaps didn’t.

Doctors assess me monthly and so far feel I'm doing OK without the meds. Funnily enough, bar a few mood swings in the first trimester that most pregnant women experience, I have felt more stable without the mood stabilisers, but I have had a healthy lifestyle forced upon me. I've developed a healthy routine; I'm constantly hungry and so I'm eating three times a day (at least!) I never used to eat breakfast, often going into mid afternoon before my first meal of the day, and I'm eating super healthy foods and drinking under 2 alcohol units a week, if at all. Getting knackered easily I go to bed earlier and get up earlier, absorbing more daylight. I'm taking recommended taking pregnancy supplements, saving money, working harder, making plans, having a focus.. of course hormones could also play a part, even though we often associate them with mood swings.

However, my team have explained to me that despite all this they have a duty of care to make a referral to child services around the time of birth. Initially I was concerned, would they deem me unfit to be a mother? But I like many were confusing child services with child protection, a different service altogether. Child services offers initial support if, and only if needed. The timing of learning about the referral came at the same time of the hype around the Alessandra case. At 32 weeks pregnant I am expecting a big meeting, a room withed with my CMHT team, social services, my family, partner and baby father, I will feel like I'm under a spotlight being judged, a little like X-Factor,  and I understand that decisions will be made for me, but I reassuringly will be present and involved, I will also give my own opinions and suggestions.

Going back to Alessandra's case, although I do understand that if she wasn't mentally stable enough to understand the harm a natural delivery would incur (a uterine rupture is life threatening to both mother and baby) hence the decision was made on her behalf for an involuntary cesarean, I don't yet understand why the child hasn't been returned to a now mentally stable, compliant and well woman.

Temporary care or adoption?

Various press have reported that Alessandra's previous children were taken into care due to neglect brought on by her own temporary mental instability, but what I think is important to highlight is that the children were (and still) permitted to reside with their maternal grandmother and therefore engage in regular contact with their mother, yet her current child is up for adoption. In adoption cases, legally the children are not returned to their natural parents or pursue contact, unless the child decides to do so as an adult. According to national statistics - Children looked after in England (including adoption and care

leavers) year ending 31 March 2013 only 5% of children ‘looked after’ are adopted, others go into foster care, residential care or with families. So what are the guidelines/assessment criteria that determine whether a child placed in care is temporarily placed, or adopted? In other words, what are the chances of Alessandra or any other woman whose child has been removed under circumstances of temporarily instability getting their child back? *Still awaiting guidelines from family lawyer*

Asking for help

One of my concerns is that many mothers or mothers to be with mental health issues who have been following Alexandra’s case will decide to keep quiet about their concerns about any deteriorating mental health they may be experiencing. During a horrific panic attack, Alessandra contacted the emergency services herself, as I myself did during my first trimester when breathing problems got out of control. Fortunately normal breathing resumed and I wasn’t admitted. Prior to this, two of Alessandra three psychiatric admissions were also voluntary. It would distress me to think that having seen the outcome of Alessandra's ordeal a pregnant woman would rather suffer in silence because she now feels that asking for help could result in having her child taken away. I have always been very vocal with my team, when I have recognised my own symptoms, I've made immediate contact with them, engaged with medication and like also voluntarily admitted myself to hospital. I would like to think that these services would recognise this not as weakness, or uncapping, but looking after myself and making positive decisions in regard to my own well being, thus the wellbeing of my child. I wouldn’t discourage this from anyone.

Also I feel that in her defence a few recent articles have pointed out that Alessandra's three children have different fathers: (the first two are American; the father of the baby who was born in England is Senegalese) and I find these facts irrelevant, as she is not under trial for having different partners, and having three or more partners in a lifetime does not indicate a mental health issue.

As a pregnant woman with bipolar myself, if i could take Alessandra to a quiet corner and whisper some advice, I would strongly suggest she sticks to the meds that are currently keeping her well. A trap I have seen many people with this condition fall into, myself included, is that when we feel well we often feel 'cured' and question whether we need to be on meds anymore. Leave the curiosity there. Another thing about this condition is, like with other mental health conditions, 'episodes' as we call them are only temporary with often many months, years or even decades of wellness in-between. Unfortunately for us, we only tend to come into the spotlight, be that in the the press or to the attention of the authorities during the occasions when we are unwell. The focus and decisions that are make for us are based on these. People more often than not, cannot tell if someone has bipolar, be it a friend, neighbour or colleague, because post episodes we too can lead ‘normal’ healthy and successful lives. We do not choose these episodes and like anyone else deserve to be given second chances.  

Pregnancy and the twelve week rule

I'm pregnant! Or am I?

The general rule is that you don't tell people you're preggars until you’re twelve weeks or more. Reasons being? You've just had your twelve week scan and there is actually a baby in there and not just wind build up or excess pies, and the 'risky' bit is now over; baby is nicely attached, breathing, doing the Hokey Cokey etc..

I asked a few preggars women if they followed the twelve week rule, some said of course, imagine every parent to be’s nightmare coming true and having to tell people you've lost your baby after personalised mugs and humorous bibs have been made. Others said they did tell people (selected people) straight away because if they had (and some did) misscarry they’d want the support rather than churning along as though nothings happened, running off to the loo's at work for secret sobs, not being able to explain why the extra work load from obviously unsympathetic boss can't be done.

I tried my hardest to keep quiet.. Of course I wanted people to know - I'd been branded the childless mad pet woman in her mid/late thirties whose never met the right man or been pregnant,  who was diagnosed infertile in her twenties, and spent the last twenty years on prescription cocktails of psych drugs - I wanted "I'm pregnant" tattooed across my face, I wanted to shove a jumper up my top, carefully so the arms didn't pop out, I wanted to ask people to ask me why I wasn't drinking, smoking, break dancing and jumping out of aeroplanes.. but I confined myself to people on busses and waiters in restaurants, because I knew I was safe with complete strangers!? "I couldn't sit down could I, pregnancy gives me swollen ankles.. Is the cream pasteurised, it's on my foods to avoid whilst pregnant list". It was like having a conversational affair. It was my release.

Of course when the time came, the twelve week rules’ sell by date has run out, I couldn't do it. Deflated? Dunno. I remember slipping it into passing conversations like.. "Me? Oh I'm just flicking through the Argos catalogue and watching Family Fortunes, oh and having a baby".

So It's OK For Us To Cry In Public Now?

Yep. So get out your tissues, top up your mascara, and sob your heart out, because we are now a nation of emotional wrecks, but proud? 

I grew up in a high oestrogen family home where we had tears on tap. Afternoon weepies, sibling strops, money worries.. we didn't have a family car and spent most weekends either cycling into the wind in our matching family coats on matching matching bikes (you've seen a family of ducks swimming in a line right?), or boxed indoors, finding solace on the doorstep, the top of the stairs or between four TV channels. Why so many tears? Too many theories; mercury fillings, lack of stimulation, processed food, our house being built on chemical disposal grounds... but our tears were confined between four walls. Occassionally in the outside world a kid would fall over and bawl their eyes out, or a girl would get dumped and weep through Silk Cut smoke rings in a school toilet cubical, but the general population would rather be seen bursting into the dance sequence from Flashdance in public, than that of tears.

More recently, every time I turn on the TV, (real) people are breaking down. Dreams of pop stardom are being painfully ripped away from grown men and women as we watch them break down in the public eye, if thats not enough we have to watch their families do the same back stage. All of them emotionally exposed, live, close up, slow motion.. the more they suffer the slower and closer we're allowed in. Beautiful girls swapping their innocent lives for the vicious reality world of modelling, rejected in front of the camera. Dancers, magicians, artists.. even ordinary people doing ordinary stuff - Big Brother being a personality contest, and we did away with Miss World because..? - having their hearts yanked out in front of the whole world, losing all they ever wanted, dreamt and momentarily had. We are even watching people on television in tatters because they themselves are watching people on television in tatters! The next series of Gogglebox should be people watching the people watching the people. 

One of my biggest fears is bursting into tears in public - it does happen - because I am one of these people that once I starting I simply cannot stop. Of course I can allow myself Surprise Surprise, people that can't cry to this have no soul, but I'm still running hours later through new and amazing Dyson vacuum cleaner commercials and trailers for documentaries on new waste disposal plans. So, very much like the awkward school disco social system 'I'll start dancing once someone else does first', I'll wait till others bang their forehead against a 'closed for lunch' sign on the laundrette door sobbing 'but why?' or fall onto all fours outside the tube station hearing the news of another part suspension, until I go with them. For now.

How to tell a new fella you have a mental illness..

Ease him into it. Nice cuppa tea.. newspaper.. 

Taking care of the front page that is