My Story: Rhiannon Ferguson

#PostpartumConfession | My Story: Rhiannon Ferguson #csection #birthstory #england #breastfeeding

15 years have passed now.

The memory is still fresh.

I went into labour alone after a night of violent vomiting.

Five weeks early.

I went to the hospital to be told I was having a c-section, being in and out of it as I had a temp of 39 degrees {Celsius}, I had no idea what was happening and what I was signing.

An hour and a half later my son was shown to me for five seconds and was gone.

I was empty, mentally and physically (literally) hours went by and I kept asking to see my child but no one was available to take me. Finally at 9pm (my son was born at 10:30am) I got to see him, to touch him and start bonding, only to be told, "Hang on - that's not your baby - this one is" and they wheeled me to the right child.

By then I was exhausted and didn't want to bother.

Because he was premature, he stayed up on a different ward then me, I had to walk to the lifts on my own to visit, which was difficult from the drugs given and the c-section.

I was finally able to come home, but my son was not. This left me sat in a cold bath in tears feeling nothing but emptiness.

No one could help me and I couldn't even help myself.

I finally had him home and was at a loss at what I should do, he was so small I thought if I touch him he will break and was always worrying about holding him when I fed him.

I ended up with thrush on my nipples and my son had it in his mouth. Making us both unhappy. I was left on my own during the day and had no support system. So poor I ate a packet of biscuits {cookies} just so I could eat, despair and lack of self worth as a mum hit me like a tonne of bricks.

I started thinking my son would be better off without me.

One night I was having a sit down outside as I need quiet, I decided to leave, I just walked away leaving the baby with my now-ex-husband.

Soon enough my family were called and they found me.

They hadn't realised what I had been dealing with, the feelings of despair, hate, uselessness and exhaustion. How I was barely surviving. They helped me to see I could do this and I was a good mother.

Thankfully the doctors knew this with my second child and had me on an antidepressant, but unfortunately I was told a few hours after the birth that if I wanted to breastfeed I had to stop taking them. So I did stop with no help or support for the next few days in hospital and I crashed - fell into despair again, but this time my doctor got me sorted out and my family were there from day one of leaving the hospital.

I have two boys aged 14 and 15 and hopefully I'm still seen as a good mother, though I have struggled with depression all my life, I'm confident that I have raised them well.

Rhiannon Ferguson | Chepstow, South Wales | Mama to Dylan Taylor - 15 and Aled Taylor, 14


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