Please note this event happened in February 2009. It has taken me 18 months to be well enough to write it.
I didn’t know who to call, but I did know of a hospital with a psych ward, so I tried them. When they found out I had a 7 day old infant, they referred me to 13Health as they didn’t have a maternity ward. I was put through to a beautiful and understanding woman who asked me a lot of questions, somehow filling me with an assurance I wasn’t being judged whilst telling me it was very important to go to hospital NOW, or call an ambulance. Dave had entered the room now and found me sobbing and curled in a ball on the phone. He was suddenly aware of how bad I was feeling and gave his immediate support and assurance that he would do whatever I needed done. I promised the concerned lady on the phone to go to hospital before hanging up and making preparations for Lincoln to remain with my parents while Dave took me to hospital. As I am quite good at hiding the true nature of my despair, Mum was slightly confused when I explained that I was not in a good space, and would need to go to hospital immediately, however she had no problem taking care of Lincoln for us. Immediate needs taken care of, I packed a small bag of essentials and we headed off. I felt an easing of my panic knowing I was on the way to getting the help we needed as I headed to a large hospital with a maternity ward.
Once arriving they also were very understanding and I was taken through to a treatment room immediately. Poor Dave fought back tears and sleep as distraught and exhausted he stayed by my side offering whatever support he could. Another problem however soon became apparent. Having not expressing any breast milk for some hours, my breasts were engorged and painful. Despite being in a maternity hospital it took an age for someone to find a breast pump. And then I quickly discovered it didn’t work. Somehow sitting in an emergency room trying to hand express into a vomit bag wasn’t what I had in mind as a new mother.
Eventually I convinced Dave to go home for some much needed sleep as I tried to hold myself together for his sake. By this time it was the small hours of the morning. Soon a nurse arrived who was assigned to keep a surveillance on me. I begged for another breast pump, but was bought the same broken one. Between us the nurse and I managed to find a way to hold it so it worked. Once I was more comfortable the panic began to set in again. I was shaking as I rocked back and forth sobbing. I was quickly given a little yellow pill and soon calmed down before falling into black, dreamless sleep.
I awoke to a beautiful, sunny day and a very pleasant student nurse who was watching guard over me. As chilling waves of fear and anxiety washed over me she offered me some magazines. Welcoming any distraction I pretended to look through them while my innards tumbled about inside me. I spoke to my mother on the phone. She told me Lincoln had slept for 6 hours straight overnight. I didn’t care. I asked her not to talk about him. I began to panic that something had happened to Dave and when he arrived the relief that rushed through my was overpowering.
Soon, a very nice doctor came to talk to me. He asked if I had private health cover as I may be able to go to a special hospital for women experiencing post natal depression. For the first time I felt a ray of hope. My joy was soon quashed when the doctor came back and informed us that while my private health did cover hospitals, it didn’t cover psychiatric hospitals and that we would need to come up with $3000 if I was to go there. We did not have $3000. Neither did any of our family. But first I needed a doctors referral and for that I had to be transferred to the psych hospital I originally phoned in the first place. There were things said about voluntary patient and involuntary patient but it all meant nothing to me. I was just glad to be headed to more help as they took me in a taxi to the next hospital. Dave followed in his car.
