MENTAL HEALTH AND PARENTING - MYTHS, TRUTHS AND THE BITS IN-BETWEEN

I found out I was pregnant with Dylan while under section on a psychiatric ward.
That is something that while not a secret not so many people know because it's something that there's so much stigma attached to that it even scares me. But I've said it now, and I only feel a little bit sick.
The story of how I ended up there isn't that relevant even though this post is very much about mental health. And that's the problem I guess. Mental health problems are all too often viewed as equal. A person who is successfully managing their illness is often labelled with the same stigma and mistrust as a person in crisis. And worse of all, that stigma exists and it affects how we see people, it creates prejudices and if it's not stood up against its dangerous. It puts people, mothers, fathers, children in danger.
So I was on a psych ward, honestly not as terrifying as we're all lead to believe but not the greatest place in the world. And suddenly the chaos that had surrounded my life stopped. In my eyes it had to, there was absolutely no other way.
And that's where the first myth hit me -

When you get pregnant you (have to)get better.
Now see thats all well and good, it's the aim of the game. But it's not realistic. But no one tells you that in fact quite the opposite. Everyone plays along with this bullshit fantasy that this baby is going to cure your mental illness. I suppose for people who love you that's fuelled by hope, because they so want you to get better. But everyone else? There must be several reasons but one prominent one I've encountered is the belief, the complete and utter belief that one cannot be mentally ill and a parent. That it's selfish to bring a child into the world before you're cured.
Now that game was a dangerous one to play for me, one that interfered with my treatment and wellbeing because admitting that I still struggled was such a terrifying prospect and I had far too much to lose. So I didn't tell anyone and was discharged from my intensive eating disorder treatment with so much still hanging over my head that I'm often not surprised that my recovery was anything but simple in years to come. But that, that myth, it silenced my voice and mine is the only voice that can tell the truth and ask for help. But the fear silenced it and I suffered as a result.

Soon after leaving the psychiatric ward I met a social worker, not for me, for my unborn child. Keep an open mind here because it's can be a little tricky. I wasn't well, I was almost certainly a danger to myself and I absolutely don't believe anyone should have blindly trusted me to just get better for the baby. However here's where the next two myths pop up -

Mentally ill people cannot make good parents.
Social services can take away your baby if you suffer from mental health problems.
Reading them they sound obscene but when you've lived with the stigma of mental illness nothing will surprise you about how people will view you or treat you.
The problem is mental health problems that are out of control can make people a danger to themselves and others, they can make people unreliable, unable to look after themselves and sometimes not even be aware of themselves, their minds, body's or where they are. Those things do not make for a good parent. But that is not a realistic picture of a person living with mental illness. Some of that may crop up in their lives but for the most part a person living with mental health problems lives a normal life, outwardly at least. And they certainly aren't dangerous of neglectful. But the stigma attached to mental health problems is carried into how we view people as potential parents. You know a social worker genuinely asked me if my anorexia would affect my desire to feed my child. "Would you restrict their food to keep them as thin as you desired?"
Now I know eating disorders are irrational but they don't make people monsters.

So I had a team of social workers for my unborn child and they dipped in and out (mostly in) of my life letting me know if they disapproved of any of my choices as a potential parent (ie most of them) and never made it clear (or said at all really) that they couldn't take my baby away because they disapproved. That they don't actually just swoop in and snatch babies anyway, that is an absolute last resort. That if they believed my baby was coming to harm then they would take action (that as it transpires is in the form of more support). I spent my entire pregnancy having it dictated by a social worker who didn't even understand my diagnosis. And baring in mind they also had the ability to pull strings with my treatment that's pretty scary. But scarier still is that I truly believed that if I stood up for myself or did something they disapproved of they would take my baby. It culminated when Dylan was six months old in an incident that was so traumatic that I decided that from then on I would fight tooth and nail for what was right for my family and screw what they thought.

And you know what happened? Nothing. Because it's not true. They can't just take your baby because your unwell or because you don't do as they say. It's not true.
But the fear, that is enough to make a mother do the unthinkable because someone else says so.

And these are fears attached to mental illness for many people, parents and otherwise, that reaching out for help, admitting you're struggling will have a catastrophically negative effect on your life and society lets us continue to believe it because of their fears and prejudices. The stigma, stereotypes and prejudices are so deeply ingrained that even those who are supposed to be part of a team of support can perpetuate those fears. And if you feel that someone who can potentially take away your child believes that mental illness makes an unfit parent.....
How do you reach out for help?
How can you be honest?

  

But that's the thing, and I don't claim to be mother of the year but I know I proved that I can be a good parent. That I can trust my instincts and that my mental health does not make me an unfit mother. I have quantifiable proof of this of course because we no longer have a social worker working with us. We parted ways the day before Dylan's first birthday.

Because here's the truth -

Mental health problems make parenting so much harder.
Parenting is hard. Really hard. And you don't get to sleep ever (4 years 10 months and counting) and parenting brings with it such obscene anxieties that you think you're going crazy. It's a 24/7 job that doesn't care if you've got the flu (man this sucks), a friends birthday to celebrate or that you haven't slept in almost five years. Now that is true for all parents, life I said, parenting is hard. But mental health problems can turn pregnancy and parenting into a nightmare that you have to navigate, and you do, because you love your child.
I'll give you some examples:
You might find that the medication that has kept your stable and (mostly) happy for the past five years isn't safe to take while pregnant or breastfeeding. Then what do you do? Some people and I'm among them forgo all medication, I was incredibly lucky and I've done it successfully, although it depends so much on the diagnosis and the person that sometimes it's just neither realistic or most importantly safe. But what do you do when the drugs that keep you safe will endanger your unborn child?
You might have a bad day, week, month etc an episode or a sinking fit of suicidal depression that sweeps over you and leaves you sobbing in bed every morning cursing that you didn't die in your sleep but feeling too guilty to ever leave your children.
For many mental health problems self care, proper sleep, time to shut off your brain, washing, eating enough etc are integral to stability but all of those things fly out the window when you're a parent even if you have a solid routine.
Mental health problems make life so much harder, parenting makes life so much harder although it's far more rewarding and enjoyable than mental illness. But fling them together and it's going to be tough.
But not impossible. And anyway, I've found that living with mental health problems has made me pretty resilient.

   

 Something I'm asked a lot is whether I'm scared I'll pass my mental health problems onto my children - as if they're contagious.
It's not true that a parent with mental health problems will raise a child with the same.
That is not to say it won't happen, but it's vaguely the same theory as a gay couple raising gay children, as if a child has no soul, personality or sense of self that isn't built by their parents.
However it's undeniable that it can be incredibly difficult and sometimes traumatic living with someone with mental health problems, even more so when you love them and depend on them. And that trauma can have a lasting effect that can in turn result in a range of mental health problems. It takes me back to the top though, for most people living with mental health problems most of the time they aren't dangerous, neglectful, unreliable or unable to look after themselves or their children. You can argue that the instability of most of the time can be just as damaging and I totally agree, but I'm still of the opinion that the image of instability we jump to isn't the one that I live and certainly not the one my children live.
I am also of the opinion that honesty, openness and awareness make a huge difference. Even now I talk to my children on a level they understand about my health. It may be what they see, especially now during my relapse - but they sure as hell don't think that it's normal or that I will stay like this for any period of time. Being honest with my children gives us all our best shot, and for my four year old it's just as important for him to understand that mummy isn't very well and these are the symptoms as it would be for him to understand if I had a broken leg.

  

   

 The reality is, or my reality at least, is that it's harder. Maybe/probably harder than if I didn't have mental health problems. Sometimes I long for the days before I had the children when if I was struggling and couldn't cope I could wallow in my sadness, or at least sleep. I long for the time I used to have to look after myself, so that I could know I was going to be stable because I'm healthy and well looked after rather than knowing I'm going to be stable because I won't give myself any other choice.
The reality is accidentally spending your daughters summer wardrobe budget on princess dresses and tutu's rather than sensible clothes just to make her happy.
The reality is being a parent has made treatment feel impossible. Even my psychiatrist is struggling because I really only have an hour a day (except Monday's) except every alternate week when I should be available for two full days. And whenever inpatient or even day patient treatment comes up the reality is I can't, who will look after the children? And who will pay the bills if Harrison is the one to look after them. And man, I'm not sure that I could cope with being away from my babies for potential months on end. And would that longing for them and the guilt of being away from them be detrimental to my treatment? Probably.
The reality is waking up in complete and utter panic the first night your baby sleeps through the night and rushing to their room and shoving your face in their face because they must be dead. They can't possibly still be asleep?!
The reality is that people will judge me before they know a thing about my life and as a mother I carry so much anxiety that those judgements can hurt and produce very real fears.
The reality is being stressed about birthdays and Christmas and Easter and wanting to know the calendar of every religion because your child comes home from school having learnt about a religious celebration you know nothing about and you can't answer their questions - this totally ruins the image you create of yourself as all an knowing but also super cool parent.

   

The reality is that I was extremely vulnerable because of the blanket of stigma and prejudices that was placed over me under the guise of keeping me warm and safe and that was dangerous for me. And even now I deal with the marks the trauma left and the gaps in my memories of Dylan's first year because it's too painful but I didn't know any better. I thought if I deviated from the plan they'd take him away.
The reality is waking up at seven am to get through our morning, breakfast, teeth, clothes, hair, bags, coats, shoes and out the door to get to school.
The reality is feeling endlessly guilty because I feel like my children deserve better than a mother who spent a year wanting to die. They deserve nothing less than perfect and as far as societal norms are concerned I'm anything but.
The reality is that Dylan has my hair and Harrison's feet and Isla has Harrison's hair and my feet and I'm really glad it happened that way around.

       

  

 The reality is worrying about fitting in with the other parents in the playground.
The reality is letting your kids stay up for a treat and then paying for it with a week of disrupted bedtimes and wanting to punch yourself in the face because you're really really tired but also knowing it was worth it for whatever you did that first night.
The reality is locking yourself in the bathroom and telling your four year old you're doing a massive poo just to hopefully get a bit of peace and quiet for five minutes. Although to be honest even this works less as time goes on.
The reality is sometimes finding yourself crying on the kitchen floor because everyone's unwell, no ones slept, the children are grumpy and fighting and you still have to cook and wash up and probably do some laundry because everyone (including you) is sweating through their clothes at lighting speed because they have a fever and you're overwhelmed.
The reality is accidentally drinking a bottle of wine in the garden on a summers evening when you only meant to have a small glass to relax (it turns out you don't quite realise how stressed you are till you try to relax)


Becoming a parent doesn't change everything, it's not a magical solution to all your problems or
 a cure for your mental health. Not everyone cope sand not everyone has the support they need and deserve. And sometimes when all these things come together there's a situation where a persons mental health problems do affect their ability to be a good parent.
But if you're in check of yourself. If you're honest with yourself and your support, be it your family, partner or doctor, if you look after yourself the best you can and will admit when you can't then your mental health has no reason to affect your ability to be a fantastic parent.

  

 
And you can reach out for help.There isn't anything to be afraid of, no one can take your child because you're struggling, no one has the right label you a bad or inept parent for suffering with mental health issues.
Being a parent is scary enough without having to be scared of asking for help if you need it.
Asking for help is brave.
And asking for help because you want to be the best parent you can be only proves it's all bullshit.

Parenting with mental health issues is just parenting. Sometimes there's just a little bit more to navigate.