Sarah's Story

I was one of the lucky ones. Lucky being a relative term. I caught my postpartum psychosis early, exactly seven days after a traumatic birth. I was haunted by flashbacks, pseudo seizures, and severe sleep deprivation. The trifecta if you will. Needless to say, I was not okay.  

I am an elementary school teacher, and I hold a Mental Health First Aid certificate, both of which mean that I am trained to identify signs of mental health crises in others. Consequently, I was able to diagnose myself with PP before anyone else. However, even that couldn’t save me once the PP took hold. I will never forget the moment when I went to my office and grabbed my Bachelor of Education Degree and my Certificate of Participation for my Mental Health First Aid Course. I then put these in my daughter’s crib (she was in her bassinet at the time) so that my family would believe that I knew what was happening to me. I also highlighted sections of my information manual about the signs and symptoms of psychosis. At the time, I thought I was safeguarding against any further symptoms of PP. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.  

I woke up the next morning, and after discussing the intricacies of PP with my mom (she was staying to help with the first newborn week), I felt confident that I could combat PP on my own. I was sorely mistaken. Shortly after my discussion with her, I became confused and thought I had died and gone to Heaven and that my daughter, my mother, and my husband were all with me, as they were all present at the time. I then proceeded to ask questions such as, “Where am I? What is happening to me?” and most concerning, “Did we have a miscarriage?” As previously mentioned, my daughter had been with us for seven days at the time. I spent hours trying to make sense of things, until I finally gave up and let my husband and mother take me to the hospital. The emergency doctor said, “You’re overwhelmed. I can give you something for that.” I was given a sleeping pill, and although I was able to sleep, the pseudo seizures were so powerful that my husband had to hold my arms down on the stretcher. This is something that he wishes I’d forget, but it’s imprinted on my brain forever. At least for now.  

I was then admitted to the psychiatric floor. Again, I was one of the lucky ones. I wasn’t suicidal, nor was I at risk of harming my loved ones. As a result, my husband and daughter were allowed to visit, my phone calls were not monitored, and my room was private. However, I wasn’t given the following postpartum supplies: pads, period underwear, peri bottle, or bed mats. Consequently, I was worried about infection. Thankfully, my family was allowed to bring these items. I only spent one night in the “observation room,” which should really be called solitary confinement because you are put in a cold room with zero light and zero comfort measures. I was put there because my pseudo seizures were so intense that I was at risk of falling and accidentally hurting myself. This was my rock bottom. I couldn’t believe how out of control things had become. At this point, I had to give up control. I just sang “Amazing Grace” at the top of my lungs until someone came to my rescue. 

My advice to anyone currently experiencing PP is that it’s okay to give up some control. Let your family and friends help wherever they can. You are NOT a burden to them. They just want to help you heal. Try to seek professional support (if financially possible), and don’t forget to give yourself grace and self-compassion. Unfortunately, healing the brain isn’t like healing the body. You can’t see the progress. As a result, it’s often frustrating trying to determine a “timeline” for healing but just know that healing will come. You are incredibly strong for enduring an emotional pain that is like no other. When I felt as though I did not have any strength remaining, I leant on the Lord, for “... I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry (PS 40. NKJV).”