Strength in Stories

 Approximately one in seven mothers* will experience a perinatal mood and anxiety disorder (PMAD) such as depression, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, bipolar disorder, or more rarely, psychosis. According to recent studies, the risk of experiencing PMDAs is even more likely for migrant mothers*.

To bring light to this public health issue, Afloat published the following stories of international women* in Germany as part of an Instagram campaign during Mater*nal Mental Health Awareness Week in May 2020.

If you or someone you know is experiencing a PMAD, know that you are not alone. Take a look at our support group or get in touch with us to see how we can be of help.

“My first panic attack happened around the second trimester. When my daughter was born via emergency C-section, the panic attacks became recurring. By the time she was 3 months old, I was having multiple attacks per day and hadn't sleep more than two or three hours per night, every night. I didn't understand what was wrong with me. I loved my baby, didn't want to hurt her, so I couldn't identify with the images I saw on the internet about postpartum depression. Those of the women* looking away from their babies. I was the opposite. I was so wired on adrenaline, I couldn't look away from her, I couldn't shut down.

In Germany, I was diagnosed with Wochenbettdepression. The term didn't speak to me. I felt anxious, panicked, but not depressed. When I made my first appointment with a psychiatrist, she suggested I take medication or else I would end up in a clinic. This wasn't anything like I had heard of back home, and so I immediately panicked, became afraid they would take my baby away, walked away and pretended I was fine again.

At one point I began to fantasize about being run over by a car. I wanted to be injured enough to need an operation, so I could finally get some sleep. I needed an escape. I thought it would be this way forever.

The journey to heal was long, with many ups and downs. I was broken into a million pieces, and though it sounds cliché, I did put myself together again and became stronger than before. Throughout it all, I knew I didn't want other moms* to feel as lonely and hopeless as I did back then. 3 years later, l founded Afloat to offer international moms* in Germany a space to talk about this, to get support, and to connect with mental health resources. I'm also a volunteer with Postpartum Support International, an organization that helped me while I was in the worst of it: To understand that it's common, and that my symptoms, though they felt unique to me, were cookie-cutter, and because of that, I would get better. And with the right help, I did.”

“The time after my son was born was one of the worst times of my life. Even now, 8 years later, it feels hard to write that. It started the moment he was born. I remember looking down at him and just feeling exhaustion rather than the love and connection that I was 'supposed' to. The following days were filled with lots of crying. I was disconnected from everyone--my son, my husband, and myself.

Our breastfeeding problems made it impossible for him to nurse and, instead, I was given an overwhelming routine which included attempting to get him to latch, pumping, finger feeding with a tube, and then restarting the entire process. 

I felt like I couldn't do anything for him, that I was a terrible mother*. I wasn't even able to feed him. I saw the look on people's faces when they saw me and I interpreted every one of them to read the horror that I felt myself. 

For weeks the visits with lactation consultants were my only contact with the outside world but left me feeling even more hopeless and disconnected. I so badly wanted someone to tell me that it was okay to stop trying to breastfeed but I couldn't bring myself to say this out loud. I felt so selfish for feeling like I wanted to give up. I needed to hear that it was okay to think about myself, to take care of myself. I couldn't figure out why the lactation consultants saw me clearly drowning in my attempt to breastfeed and yet didn’t ever ask me what I wanted or needed. It made it seem like that might what a good mother* was supposed to do--happily drown for her child. 

Now I look back on our experience and see resilience and strength. I didn't know it then but the connection to my son that I so feared wasn't there had just been overshadowed by my own mental health struggles. It was there all along and flourished in the months and years to come. 

I wish for my son's sake that we would have had an easier time of it. But for me, I am so grateful to be able to use my own experience to connect with friends, doula clients, and other mothers*. There is something healing in being able to look someone in the eyes and tell them that it is okay to take care of themselves, to consider their own needs alongside their baby's.”

“When we were home I always shut all my windows and doors because I was so ashamed of my baby crying all day and night. I tried everything to calm him down. I was exhausted, I couldn't sleep and I felt all alone because I have not heard about other moms* going through something like that. Also I was afraid of what the neighbors could think about us. A tattooed single "bad mom*" that can't take care of her kids.
One night I yelled at him and held my hand over his mouth, just for a second because I just wanted it to stop. I was so shocked about myself and felt like the biggest failure because I couldn't soothe my boy. I cried myself to sleep every night  feeling lonely and not worth living. Thinking my boy deserve a better mom*. This went on till he turned 2 years old. But in the meantime I finally made it to the doctor, I told him I couldn't go on like this, I need help.  Followed by a physical check up I had appointments with different neurologists and therapists and started medication. Until I found a place and therapist I felt comfortable with, I also had appointments with my son at Schreiambulanz Heidelberg. It all helped me understand that it has nothing to do with my son not loving me nor with me being a bad mom*!”

"‘I won't hesitate to go back to f***ing England with MY baby’. I hated that I became 100% dependent on my partner was FOR EVERYTHING overnight. I hated that he left me by myself in a foreign country, with a newborn baby week in, week out. I became, dare I say, angry? Full of rage? I was like a volcano! I moved from the UK to Germany 7½ years ago. I left everything I knew and loved behind: my language, my independence. I had made a choice which I shouldn't complain about. How dare I complain when I wanted for nothing? Keeping so much inside nearly destroyed me. The feeling of resentment manifested and spewed out of me in mini outbursts.

I didn't want to hurt my baby boy. I didn't spiral into a dark place. I wasn't suicidal, but I wasn't 100% 'right'. What was wrong with me? I had a mind, body and soul full of love for my boy. But I had a mind, body and soul full of resentment due to my "luxurious" situation.

Someone close to me once told me that I should be happy to be in my position. That wasn't the issue, I simply missed home and struggled to express this. Years later I read an article about postpartum rage and recognised myself during that moment in time. Eventually, over time, I learned to meet my own needs. I recognised I was here for a purpose. I filled my void. I’m now a baby massage instructor, offering support to mamas* who are in a similar situation, in a very foreign country. Alone. Dealing with a mixed bag of emotions.”

“I was so scared, I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to do with another child. I wanted to go back to my country and leave everything here. Start over again, maybe there that feeling wouldn't haunt me. I always asked myself the same question: Am I doing this well? Is this what I want? And now I look at them and think, thank  God I didn't go anywhere.”