BLUE STORIES
Here are a selection of the inspiring stories that have been shared with The Blue Stories Project: journeys out of perinatal depression in collaboration with Greenstone Doors and The Ruth Project Wairarapa and support of Little Shadow in the Wellington region. Ngā mihi nui to all who have contributed.
“Learn to talk, to break down those barriers that stop you from sharing. Telling the right people what my deepest thoughts were and receiving understanding, support and guidance saved my life more than anything else. It still does.” - Abby
My journey with perinatal mental distress started not long after our first pregnancy, which we lost. I never stopped to process the impact of this. We went on to have our second pregnancy only a few months after our first loss, so my mind was taken up with the joys of a new baby. We birthed a beautiful daughter, followed by a second miscarriage and then two beautiful boys. This happened in the space of 5 years.
Through this time, although I loved being a mama, my mental well-being deteriorated more than I could see from the middle of it. When our youngest was six months old, my husband and I both hit rock bottom. As heartbreaking as that moment was, this was also the beginning of healing for us. I remember that night, as my husband broke down in the office, I was filled with guilt, feeling that it was my fault. I walked into the living room where my parents were, we told them what was going on and I remember my mum advised us in that moment to go to the movies, watch something funny and we can touch base about it after. I remember being so stunned, I never expected that suggestion to be given in a moment of such distress. My husband and I did as she said, we watched Guardians of the Galaxy and went from broken hearts crying with each other to sitting next to each other with some laughter. I'm so grateful for that moment as it broke the tension and gave us both some time to gather ourselves.
Following that we met with health professionals, and had a family/friend meeting led by a wonderful social worker. We came up with a six-week plan to help my husband and I get back on our feet. We learnt a lot about the support my husband was needing alongside the support I was getting. I started researching into depression and anxiety, coming across Dr Caroline Leaf on YouTube. I watched her videos and tried to apply her teachings around challenging thoughts as best as I could. Thankfully we were also able to find a supportive GP who worked closely with us in a long term medical and wellness plan. I learnt to talk, I started sharing my thoughts with my husband and my family who were able to help with my processing and perspectives.
Although I have been blessed to have a supportive family, and eventually was able to get helpful professional help, the road was certainly challenging. There were many days where I couldn't get out of bed, weeks full of dark intrusive thoughts. I had feelings that I was failing and a burden and constantly on a rollercoaster that never stopped and I had no control over. I just had to look at one day at a time, hope that one day it will be better. Eventually I was in a healthier space, using the tools I had gained along the way. I started to hear stories from other mothers experiencing what I had been through, falling through the same gaps. I really didn't want other parents to get to where my husband and I got to before getting help, so along with two friends, we identified the common themes and gaps in our community and started a charity called The Ruth Project. We proposed to support parents going through perinatal distress and hope that we can be a preventative service for severe mental distress, and see parents healed and in control of their wellbeing much sooner.
Helping others is what pulled me through that last major hurdle, feeling like I had something to give, something beyond being a mum and surviving every day. I still have my moments where my mental well-being can go downhill but I learnt a lot through my journey. I have a great toolbox and a strong village around me to help in those times, but I also value the ability to give to others and what that has brought into my life.
Abby
The Ruth Project Wairarapa is a non-profit charity working to support parents facing perinatal mental distress, in-between the professional appointments through mentoring, practical help, food support and social activities.
“Forgive yourself and look for life lines.” - Georgie
PND came out of nowhere for me when I had twins despite having had two children without that experience. I felt that it was related to the lack of sleep and sudden drop off in being able to get out and about and see people. For me, talking about it with a counsellor wasnt enough, I wanted tangible solutions and a friend prompted me to join a gym with a creche. I wouldn't even work out, just drop the girls off and have a shower, sit in the steam room and read a book for half an hour. Then I started going to a mothers support group and finally I had a post natal doula come in and help during the day for a few sessions. I volunteered for my local twin club too which seemed ridiculous to most people who knew I was already struggling and tired but I think the combination of finding little hacks to get some rest and forming a new community of mums at similar stages to me helped draw me out of the fog.
Georgie
Currently Georgie works for Little Shadow. Little Shadow connects those experiencing perinatal distress to counselling, support and information, walking beside you on your journey to wellness in Wellington.
“Those who are feeling all alone, overwhelmed, unsupported or struggling- HOLD ON it gets better and REACH OUT.” - Jay
I had my daughter in 2017 and everything in my birth plan went wrong. I ended up with a sick baby in SCBU and no support. I wasn't being listened to and I had to fight constantly with everyone around me, including the hospital staff. I struggled with breastfeeding but it was really important to me and this created tension and stress.
I myself lacked confidence at being a new mum especially of a sick baby. Everything was overwhelming and I felt like I had no one to help me. I was all alone, exhausted and my stress levels were out of control. Worse than that my baby suffered colic, eczema and allergies. She screamed all night and often we were in and out of hospital with her allergies. Even after a year I was averaging 3-4 hours sleep a night. Sleep deprivation is extremely tough mentally.
At the time nobody seemed to understand me and even though it was obvious something wasn't right, nobody stepped in to help me. I had to help myself. Do not be afraid of getting help for yourself when things aren't right.
Somehow someone recommended Greenstone Doors where I met Wendy for counselling. I was finally heard and her support was a lifeline. She diagnosed me with PND and PTSD and it was her diagnosis of PTSD which helped me get better. She became more than just my counsellor and now I call her my friend. She was also there when we were devastated by the loss of our son Teddy at 16 weeks, who came too early last year. I called her straight away and she was supportive in my grief, heartache and sickness.
I had a friend who was also struggling with new motherhood at the same time as me. She was diagnosed with PND and was also stressed and overwhelmed with a constantly crying baby. She unfortunately ended up committing suicide, leaving her 2 babies behind which was a huge shock. I hope this doesn't happen to any other families out there.
My advice for those who are feeling all alone, overwhelmed, unsupported or struggling is to HOLD ON it gets better and REACH OUT. Reach out to be listened to, make sure you are heard and helped. Today I am a confident, happy Mum. My daughter is my greatest joy and we have great times together filled with laughter, amazing moments, hugs, snuggles and so much love.
Jay
Greenstone Doors is a Charitable Trust which functions as a pregnancy focused centre where women and whanau are able to receive accurate and professional information and care. They provide education, counselling, resources and support for women and their whanau during and after pregnancy through an independent network of counselling and support professionals. Counselling for individuals and couples for grief and loss (including pregnancy loss) anxiety and depression, anger, trauma and more. All services are free.
“Birth trauma - it's never your fault and you're never alone.” - Kate
Across the world, and Aotearoa, the idea and experience of birth trauma is slowly coming into the light. Birth trauma can feel like a shadow of shame, guilt, regret, confusion or horror that, until recently, didn't even have a name.
My own experience has led me to work across Aotearoa giving a name to this experience, shining a light on it and dispelling the shame, offering comfort, and advocating for change. My birth experience was tricky and left me feeling "wobbly" but without being able to "put a finger on it" let alone name it.
Fast forward four months and I'd learned about the concept of birth trauma.
Fast forward two years and I'd created the My Birth Story website - an Aotearoa-specific site that offers comfort, validation and support following negative or traumatic birth experiences.
Fast forward six years and I'd created Birth Trauma Aotearoa - a charitable trust dedicated to advocacy, education, research and support around both physical and psychological birth trauma.
I could see the need, and I knew what that need felt like, so I decided to do something about it.
Birth trauma is prolific and the ripples of its impacts reach into, and beyond, the wider whānau. Birth trauma is never the birthing person's fault - it's a very, very natural reaction to highly stressful events at one of the most vulnerable times in our lives; It's our body and brain trying to protect us.
We don't have to live with this shadow - we are not alone and we deserve support.
Healing is a journey, not an end point, and my own healing has come with the help of doing this mahi - the privilege and responsibility of doing this work isn't lost on me.
Kate
My Birth Story is a place where you can start to process your experience and begin to heal. It’s a specific site that offers comfort, validation and support following negative or traumatic birth experiences.
Birth Trauma Aotearoa is a charitable trust dedicated to advocacy, education, research and support around both physical and psychological birth trauma.
“You are not a monster. You are a good mum. Reach out to someone. Tell them you are hurting. And if they don’t listen, tell someone else. This will pass. But you need to accept help, and that’s ok.” - Anonymous
PND for me, started with the intense physical pain of breastfeeding my baby. Every time I went to feed baby, I felt anxious and fearful. It hurt so much. My hands would shake, and I would cry. Sometimes I would yell at him. Sometimes I put him down too roughly. I started to hate myself. I started to fear myself. I knew in my heart that our baby was disappointed in me as a mother. I knew he deserved better. I could see examples of better, all around me. And I wasn’t it. He’d been ripped off, getting me. I could see it in my partner’s eyes too. Statements from well-meaning people played like a broken record in my head, turning advice into accusations. I could see that people around me didn’t think I was doing a good job. I spent hours trying to get baby to sleep - rocking the bassinet, sitting in painful positions afraid to move, creeping silently only to hear my foot crack…or was it my heart breaking? One day a wrong number woke him up and I screamed down the phone, “do you know what you’ve done?!” Mum told me she used to sit out by the clothesline when I was a baby to escape my crying and so I tried that too. But I could hear his cries, even if he was out of earshot. They told me I was an awful, useless, unkind mother. I told my sister I had depression. “No, you don’t,” she said. As the months wore on, my mind started telling me to die. I was an utter failure. He’d be better off without me. Or…he wouldn’t. By killing myself I could be condemning him to a life of pain and confusion. I couldn’t do that to him. I loved him with every fibre of my being. I shouldn’t have brought him into this world. Maybe we could leave together. The thoughts were constant, and they scared me. But they also somehow made sense. And then suddenly, I was sitting in my car, parked next to a river, with our baby in the back seat. I don’t think we even sat there for long, but it felt like hours. I knew that even being there was a bad idea, so I made myself drive away, even though I really didn’t want to.
I told my partner some of the dark thoughts that were racing through my brain. Some. I didn’t want them to think I was a monster. I didn’t tell them about the river. Together, we went to the doctor, and again, I shared what I could. I didn’t want our baby to be taken away from us. I felt a bit lighter, just having spoken some of the thoughts out loud. I was prescribed antidepressants. A lifeline was handed to me. A place I could go and spend a few days learning to get our baby to sleep. Where lovely old ladies would make me a cup of tea and rock my baby. A place that understood. My confidence grew a tiny bit. I talked to my antenatal group. They shared their own struggles with me, and I realised that even the ones who looked so together, weren’t really. And then enough time had passed that the breastfeeding started to come right. Baby started on solids. They were sleeping more, and then I could too. It wasn’t easy, but it was easier.
The river that had threatened to overwhelm us, flowed past us instead.
But the guilt is mine forever.
Anonymous
“Remember what I say: *NAME,* you have to know, remember and believe that you are amazing. You are special and precious, treasured and valued, you are important and you are absolutely totally worthwhile XOOX.. I hope you know that I really love you loads and I am proud of you XOOX.” -
Shelley
My depression started when I was in labour with my first daughter. I had a nervous breakdown in labour, that stemmed from being sexually abused as a child. It was so difficult being induced and out of control of my life and knowing that I was soon to be protective of another person's life. It was beyond overwhelming. In some ways the despair was a good thing because I was rapidly at rock bottom, so I had no choice but to get out of this awful way of feeling. Anyway, our marriage broke down when baby was 3 weeks young. Maternal Mental Health came on board and we got some great support. I also got assistance to go through the ACC living allowance process for victims of childhood sexual abuse. It was confronting, tough and yet also rewarding. Personal growth at a high personal cost. I held on tightly to my baby. Trying to trust myself and learn to be a Mother. I soon became resentful that my own Mother had not cared for me properly. I spent many days crying and unable to do very much. But the one thing I could do was love my baby. That was the only thing I could do right some days. As outside carried on, I got better at doing more things, like going for a walk each day or talking to one other person that wasn't my baby or myself each day. I was meant to go back to work, but that became impossible because of the depression. I was borderline for being admitted to the mental health unit for a long while (this didn't happen). I only had enough energy to concentrate on being a great Mother.
Eventually I found a new love and after a few years dating on and off, we had a baby. Another daughter and a sister for my firstborn. She was born in the water, an unplanned water birth. Naturally. Totally the opposite of my first birth experience. So I was mighty surprised when she was a few days old to be able to cope with grocery shopping, going for walks, caring for her. Then it dawned on me, love multiplies and doesn't divide. She was a delightful baby. When she was six months, I found myself pregnant again.... the horror I felt...
Anyway along came daughter number three! 14 month age gap.....however will I cope, I wondered.
I did cope though. Day by day doing my little walks, caring for my 3 babies, and running a house. As we got out of toddlerhood and into preschool mode, I decided to walk a half marathon. I did - Taupo half marathon. I knew then that I had got myself into a good life groove.
As time rolled on, I became a support worker and have worked with people from all walks of life and ages (newborn to people in their hundreds). I became a solo Mum again when my girls were teenagers. I most certainly have had some terrible down times, but mostly I crawl back from them. I don't think the depression, anxious feeling ever leaves you, you just override it with your own personal goals and growth. They lie dormant and then erupt on occasions. I always say to my people :-) :-) :-) “Remember what I say: *NAME,* you have to know, remember and believe that you are amazing. You are special and precious, treasured and valued, you are important and you are absolutely totally worthwhile XOOX XOOX XOOX.
I hope you know that I really love you loads and I am proud of you XOOX XOOX XOOX XOOX XOOX .” Even people who appear confident, struggle. We all need a positive impact and it's up to us to make sure that we're nosey in our communities and that we don't leave people to struggle alone and in silence. It's OK to struggle. Struggle loudly. People do want to be there for you and help you and your babies, no matter their ages. Connection is so important, at every level.
My children are now 23, 18 and 16 and we all talk every day about the good, bad, the beautiful and the ugly. They know and are well aware of my motherly struggle. They see that I don't have anything to do with my Mother, because I want better for them, than what I had.…
Shelley
“There are people wanting to help. If you get turned away, keep seeking support. (...) We are not made to walk through life alone and we have a right to find tools that speak truth to our thoughts of aloneness.” - Anonymous
I, in no doubt, found strength from my past therapy and mental health journey but even if you haven’t experienced distress before you can equip yourself with tools. Mindfulness within distress grounded me such as TIP (temperature change, intense exercise, paced breathing). Seeking help from friends and family and mental health support. Admitting it’s hard and staying off social media and recognising that comparison was taking away my joy has been key. If you don’t have a support system, seek for people to advocate for you and form one. Vulnerability and asking for help has gifted me with a support system and friends I can have honest chats with. Asking for help to fold the clothing washing was a life-saver some days. Linking in with therapy to process the triggers affecting me. Montessori floor bed co-sleeping saved my sleep. Surprisingly, cloth nappies kept me in routine with the wash routine and I had a focus daily to keep on top of it. Getting out when I could and participating in groups and learning to focus on the curiosity of my child’s development and fellow māmās with babies around the same age. Tapping into the wellness model, te whare tapa wha, and framing my mindset around that and how to balance all parts of me. There are hard days physically for me, and hormonally. I just need to have a good cry, so talking about emotion openly with my daughter and having books to read together. Ditching ‘you’re ok’ as a response and respecting acknowledging emotions when they arise for both of us has been so beneficial. Also resting when I can, and having a safe play zone at home when I need extra self care and a restful day at home. PJ days are welcome in my house, without guilt. But when they end up being days or weeks on end, do seek help because depression can be treated even when breastfeeding. You have got this and there are people wanting to help. If you get turned away, keep seeking support. If it becomes exhausting, seek people to do the advocating for you. Get the food parcel. Get the WINZ support. We are not made to walk through life alone and we have a right to find tools that speak truth to our thoughts of aloneness. I’ve come to realise that suicidal thoughts are part of our human condition, they need to be acknowledged and the truth about who you are needs to triumph above them. I call myself a trauma-informed parent and value EMDR therapy with a trusted clinician to tackle the battles we face. Sharing my love for swimming and art with my daughter has been connecting and life-giving for me. Find your things again, and share them.
I became a mum after years of preparation with drug changes and therapy, and felt ready to venture into motherhood with a support team by my side. Little did I know what the experience of low milk supply would feel like. Due to outdated support, I had a drug suppressing the supply and travelled five weeks determined to get milk flowing for my pēpē. That was all I focused on. It was frustrating, yet I found I was determined and stronger than I ever thought I was, having learnt short term pain for long term gain. Even with medication on board, I experienced in the following weeks a whirlwind of mental distress. Thankfully, I was hyper-aware of it all and was able to tap into my support team to navigate it. Having been in and out of hospital pre-baby meant that I was high risk. Perinatally, I initially experienced hyper-mania and was extremely productive! Thankfully, my husband and I noticed this and I was able to utilise mindfulness and DBT skills I had learnt in therapy to navigate through it. It wasn’t until questions of work and "are you going back to work" arose that the anxiety stepped up, followed swiftly by doubting thoughts of depression. Those questions came with what felt like an expectation from society, that I had a career, that I was successful pre-baby. The fact was, I struggled for years to get to a healthy place to have our baby and didn’t have much thought for how I would work to support our family. Financial pressure has always been hard on us, but I had functioned for years with very little, but given the rising costs of our new family life I got why people asked, but it didn’t make it any easier to face the reality of my dysfunction and disability in life. Mental health is always the forefront of my experience and life balance. I take drugs daily, and was wishing I could walk out the door with confidence. I grew weary and learnt ways to defer these questions, as I had all my twenties having presented as fully functioning for years, but truly curled up in my bed in a vulnerable feral position for years both literally and in my heart and mind. Mental distress froze me, and I was determined it wouldn’t freeze me again, or lock me in my trauma. Thankfully, my baby would be always be there, keeping me awake and edging me out of the house or simply slowing me down to connect with her beauty and development. I ended up bed-sharing to cope with sleep and it was the best decision for our bonding and making sure I got sleep. Also routine and simplifying life has been key to my mental health as a mother.
Anonymous
“No matter how important you think your job is, being a father and a husband is the most important job you will have in this life. It’s really important to look after ourselves physically, mentally and spiritually.” - Luke
Ehara taku toa i te toa takitahi engari he toa takimano.
My Strength, is not that of an individual, but that of the collective.
In my previous life I was a senior advisor working in government service as part of our National Security workforce. I resigned to become a full-time ‘stay-at-home dad’ around the birth of my second daughter in 2017.
After a seven-year career journey into and out of intelligence work, I was pretty burned out and I decided that it was probably a good idea to rebalance, put family first and support my wife’s return to her career. So, I resigned to become a stay at home dad. It was going to be a good change. It was going to be awesome. I had no idea just how tough an assignment I had signed up for!
So yeah, my former colleagues and team mates were surprised, but at farewell drinks they were all like “Yeah, this is going to be awesome! Go stay-at-home dads! I’m so jealous! I wish I could leave and do that!” (I had a reputation for taking on the tough assignments!)
What I didn’t realise at the time, when my second daughter was born, I was already on a downward trajectory quickly becoming massively depressed after years of suppressing my emotions in my old job… and all of that was now catching up with me. I found it really hard to bond with my new baby girl and I was becoming this disengaged, oftentimes angry and frustrated dad who hated himself, having these random violent anger outbursts when I occasionally emerged from depression and emotional exhaustion.
Six months went by in a hazy blur. I struggled with my self-esteem and mental state. I constantly stumbled looking back instead of forward. Inevitably, I grieved for my previous work-life balance and rewarding career. Having left ‘such an important job’ so us spooks were constantly told, I now genuinely felt I had failed and given up achieving anything remotely equal in value in the eyes of a modern society that celebrated the ‘career dad who has it all’. My marriage and family life were under incredible strain and I felt the intense shame and guilt of my depression and random angry outbursts.
I believed I was letting my family down and I felt like I was failing at the one very important job I didn’t want to screw up: fatherhood. I wanted to quit everything because my family, my girls, even my in-laws were seeing me at my absolute worst. I thought I was screwing my daughters up. At my worst, I believed the lie that they would be better off without me… guilt and social isolation was the final straw.
Finally, I sought help. The community of specialists and counsellors were always there ready to pick me up. In my previous career, I took for granted the wrap-around support of experienced colleagues and counsellors to call on during times of incredible stress where we needed additional support for our thankless work in the shadows. Having left that close-knit community behind, I would now have to forge new networks of friends, other young families, and tap into local community support providers. I would need them now more than ever…
Initially, to deal with my anger outbursts, I confided in a friend who was a family violence counsellor who quickly identified my battle with the ‘man box’ and the incredibly high expectations I had put on myself. Also noticing my obvious depression, he wisely referred me to mental health services, and I began a recovery process with a psychologist. Signing up to group therapy sessions with other men struggling with anger also really helped me gain understanding and a newfound perspective on my struggle with the false expectation that men shouldn’t cry, shouldn’t express emotion or admit to a season of weakness.
I realised that even though (before marriage and kids) I had been physically and mentally broken, now it seemed as a stay-at-home dad with two girls under five I was really just mentally exhausted and spiritually broken.
I realised I needed to start again, be rebuilt, made stronger and re-constructed with the true identity of ultimately who God says I am, and NOT what I was comparing myself to… (other working career dads who still ‘had it all’). I rediscovered my true spiritual identity: I am not the ashamed broken-down father, I’m called to care for my family all the while being very careful with my health and wellbeing so as to be strong for my family and community.
I started a local dads’ coffee group, Wai Dadz, and then organised a massive bonfire and BBQ in a paddock just for the dads without their kids. It was epic. Men sharing just as men. The older dads encouraging us younger dads. It was the space we needed to create. We all realised as fathers we can’t put our mental or physical health on the back-burner, we need to look after ourselves for our families and for the wellbeing of future generations.
If you’re going through a rough parenting season don’t give up! Keep going but do speak up, reach out and keep seeking help. As a father you hold incredible value, the work may be thankless and at times unrecognised, but know that you are an essential asset for your community and an inspiration for future generations of Kiwi world-changers. Your best years as a father are always ahead of you.
Luke