Wellbeing
My name is Jade and I was diagnosed with Postpartum Psychosis (PP), four months after the birth of my daughter in 2020/21.
My journey into motherhood was idyllic. We fell pregnant quickly and despite my pregnancy being in the height of Covid, my overall experience was how I imagined pregnancy would feel. The joys of feeling her move, moving into our dream home and nesting within an inch of its life.
Then motherhood hit. As my daughter was measuring big, my dreams of having a home water birth were shattered and I was induced on Boxing Day 2020. This resulted in a near three-day labour and every intervention imaginable, followed by a Vontuse and Forceps delivery within the bright lights of theatre. However, Penelope was born safely, despite the graze to her right cheekbone. This was my first feeling of mum guilt I experienced. I remember crying to my mum and my husband in the next few days saying that I felt like I had failed her. Little did I know, these feelings would intensify and my mental health would take a turn for the worst.
I knew almost instantly that I didn’t feel okay, but in those first few weeks I simply put it down to the baby blues. I would cry over anything, however, I felt so much love for my daughter that I didn’t think it was something to be worried about. I remember being sat on my sofa with my midwife, in which I told her that I only felt calm when Penelope was in my arms. Looking back, this was a red flag. But nothing was flagged during handover to the health visitor, and I carried on, struggling through each day thinking this was normal.
My anxiety increased and as someone who suffered with extreme anxiety in my teens and twenties, I thought this was something I could deal with alone. However, it became crippling. I didn’t want to drive, I would panic at the thought of going to the supermarket and I didn’t want to socialise with anyone. However, again, because we were in another lockdown, this masked how severe it had become.
Then came my six week check at the doctors. My mum encouraged me to talk to them about how I was feeling and see if they could provide me with some help. It took everything in me to pluck up the courage to tell the doctor. I sat across from her and said ‘I am really struggling with my anxiety at the moment’ in which her response was ‘oh why?’. I explained that I didn’t really know and had to ask again at the end of the checks if there was anyone that I could speak to. She didn’t even look at me, carried on typing on her keyboard and said ‘that’s one for your health visitor’. I remember my Mum had a hopeful look in her eyes when I walked back to the car, in which I could only tell her that I felt like I had been fobbed off. However, I didn’t let it stop me and contacted my health visitor and asked for a home visit.
She came a few days later and after telling her how I felt and asking for help, she told me that the NHS were stretched and if I could afford private, I should go down that route. I instantly felt bad for asking, so I kept quiet. However, things started to get worse – I experienced my first suicidal thought and knew something wasn’t right. So my health visitor came back and when asking her if it was postnatal depression, she told me to not put a label on it.
I then went on to reach out for therapy with a few setbacks. Although I did get diagnosed with postnatal depression over the phone by a GP and prescribed antidepressants. Again, I felt like a failure and that the picture perfect life I envisioned was being ripped from beneath me.
Fast forward a few weeks, I had my first psychotic episode. It came off the back of me probably having under 10 hours sleep in one week. I had been feeding my daughter in the middle of the night, and I had turned over to hug my husband. He asked where she was and then I had a complete out of body experience where I accidentally rolled backwards onto Penelope and started uncontrollably laughing. I then jumped out of bed and started singing ordinary people by John Legend. My husband immediately phoned my parents and they quickly came over to help us get through the night.
The following morning, I was in and out of psychosis. At one point I came out of it and asked what was happening to my husband. But then quickly slipped away again, completely unaware of reality. After countless calls to health professionals, I had the perinatal team come out to assess me. At this point I had gone mute and they realised a Mother and Baby Unit (MBU) was best suited. I agreed, thinking I was off on holiday, but it then became apparent that as I got closer, I didn’t want to go. I shouted at my family in the car telling them that I had made it all up and to take me home. But of course, this made them realise how unwell I was and that I needed to be there.
On arrival, they were quick to realise I wasn’t there as a voluntary patient, so I was detained under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act. This meant I had to have someone with me at all times and I was unable to leave the ward. This lead to me thinking I was in a prison and that I was there because I had killed my daughter. I started hallucinating, believed she looked dead and became obsessive over checking her breathing. Constantly feeling a sense of panic that I couldn’t escape.
I ended up being in acute psychosis for around two weeks, feeling like I was in a nightmare. I thought at one point that when they were doing an ECG, that it was the shock therapy to kill me. I resisted at first, but then surrendered, feeling ready to leave everything behind.
I truly believe that if it wasn’t for being in the MBU, I would not be here today. I had a constant urge to end it all and even said to one of the healthcare assistants that I believed Penelope and I needed to die. This is unfortunately the truth for other mums going through PP. If it isn’t treated as a medical emergency, it can lead to suicide and infanticide.
I often get asked what it was like being at the MBU, and I can now look back on it as a lifeline. It saved my life and my bond with my daughter. However, when I was there, I felt alone, abandoned by my family and paranoid. Being watched constantly can be unnerving and make you question every single thing you do with your baby. It felt like a prison and on multiple occasions I tried to leave, but obviously couldn’t. But after a month, I ended up being discharged and my journey to recovery began. I entered a deep depression for a year and a half and struggled finding my new normal. But I have always been one to keep myself busy and threw myself into learning to become a nail tech and things took off.
Although January 2024, due to stress and health anxieties, I ended up relapsing. It reminded me that healing isn’t linear, and that setbacks aren’t failures, but signals that more care is needed. This time, I chose to lean into support rather than resist it. I accepted help from those around me – family, friends, and professionals, and I began to talk openly, even when it felt uncomfortable or exposing. I’ve learned that vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s the foundation of true strength. Recovery, I now know, isn’t about being “better” all the time. It’s about recognising when you’re struggling, reaching out without shame, and understanding that you don’t have to carry everything alone.
I’ve now flipped my diagnosis on the head and have decided to pour everything into raising awareness of postpartum psychosis and trying to break the stigma through my social media. I also want it to be a safe place for other mums to feel less alone with their maternal mental health. It has honestly helped with my personal recovery and given me a purpose that I have always desired. I also have given talks to health professionals to help educate them to spot the early signs and to provide better care.
Then I decided it was time to go back to the MBU and rewrite my memories, by volunteering and doing the nails for the mums. It not only makes them feel pampered, but it gives them space to open up and have someone to talk to that has been in their position.
If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this, it’s that there is light through the darkness. You can hit rock bottom and still come through the other side – stronger, more grounded, and with a deeper sense of happiness and purpose.
Please read the below for a better understanding of postpartum psychosis and the signs and symptoms to look out for.
What is Postpartum Psychosis?
Postpartum psychosis is a severe but treatable mental illness that often emerges suddenly in the days or weeks after childbirth, sometimes within hours of delivery. It can include symptoms like hallucinations or delusions, rapid mood swings, extreme anxiety or agitation, disorientation, racing thoughts, unusual behaviour, mania, or deep depression.
Unlike the more common ‘baby blues,’ PP is a medical emergency that may require urgent hospitalisation, ideally in a Mother and Baby Unit, because it can escalate quickly and pose risks to both mother and baby. Recognising the difference, when one’s thoughts or behaviours feel frighteningly out of control, is crucial. If you notice any of these signs in yourself or a loved one, seeking immediate medical help is essential. Early intervention dramatically improves outcomes and supports a pathway to full recovery.
Charities you can contact for further information and help if yourself or a loved one is struggling:
Action on Postpartum Psychosis
