Subtitled 'A Handbook for Mothers', Recognising Postnatal Depression is available from all leading bookstores, thanks to Penguin Books South Africa.
As I began to page through this book, just the first few
chapters, I kept having to stop and verbalise out loud how much I wish we’d had
a copy when I started to experience symptoms of PND.
But, even in the early days, I was too far gone to read it
myself. That’s why I think this book should be required reading for any husband
who suspects that his wife isn’t 100%. Or any granny, friend, sister…
As the authors say, upfront:
"This book
may not be for you but you may want to read it anyway since we can guarantee
that many of the mothers you care deeply about are somewhere inside that
rainbow [of reactions to having a baby: antenatal depression, postnatal
euphoria, baby blues, postnatal stress, postnatal depression, bipolar mood
disorders and postnatal psychosis]."
It’s written by three women: Andy Taub-Da Costa, Paula Levin
and Zahava Aarons – two of whom have had PND and two of whom are mental health
specialists.
However, despite the authentic medical and psychological
info in the book, its style and tone remain refreshingly ‘real’: They use ‘yummy mummies’, ‘I’ and ‘we’,
‘throwing in the towel’, etc. Un-scary language.
The book defines PND, with ways to tell if you have it and
what to do if that’s the case. There are true stories from women who’ve beaten
it, including Sam Cowen and Deborah Patta.
There’s also a big chapter on psychotherapy (which, together
with a brilliant psychiatrist and the right medication, was what ultimately
saved me). And the book concludes with a chapter on treating PND ‘spiritually’.
For me, the strongest element of this book is the way it
combines real medical thinking – Wolf, Winnicott, local psychiatrist Dr Rykie
Liebenberg and others – with real human experience, in real human language.
The only other book on PND I’ve read is Brooke Shields’ Down Came the Rain, which I hated. (One
of the authors applauds it, so that’s something, but I read it in the midst of
my own depression and it helped me not at all.)
Unlike some of the mommies referred to in the Introduction,
I’m not a propagandist of ‘blissful motherhood’, because I do honestly, unapologetically and (lord help me) publicly admit the
hell I went through. But I do this because, when I was lost in the dark, I
thought I was the only one. So, in a sentence, thank G-d for this book.
