WE ARE NOT FINE

We’re coping. That doesn’t mean we’re OK.

In the early days of triplet motherhood, people would often ask me how I did it.

To be honest, I just went into mum mode, that internal gear we all have, where somehow, on autopilot, we do whatever it takes. We step up. We put our own needs, feelings, and well-being aside. We sacrifice whatever we have to - from washing our hair to our very identity - to get that job done.

A switch was flicked somewhere deep within so that I could function: carefully listen to the doctors, ask questions and advocate for my babies in NICU. So I could be an active part in their care plan without falling to pieces. So that I could cope with day after day, paying beside three incubators, even when those days turned into weeks.

So it’s no surprise that when I was in that mum survival mode, I had disconnected from my own mental well-being. I couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. I didn’t have the time to do anything about it, and in any case, there was no alternative. I had to just keep going. I was in the trenches, and three little lives were counting on me.

My husband was really struggling at the time, so the need to “be the strong one” and somehow carry the family through this humongous challenge fell on me, the ultimate superhero. Mummy.

Pic: Me being wheel-chaired to meet Jerry, about 6 hours after I had a C-section.

It took me over a year to realise I had maternal PTSD.

After going into hospital for an emergency visit with one of my boys, I noticed my body physically reacting to the “beeps” of the machines, putting me in fight-or-flight, constricting my throat. It was pure fear.

I asked other triplet mums if this happened to them when they went into hospital, and it did. One confessed she had to change brand of air-fryers because the beeps were too similar to the hospital machines. Yet she didn’t know she had maternal PTSD either.

I had a cursory check-up at the doctors after giving birth, and then the health visitors asked a few questions, but because I was coping and functioning, everyone thought I was fine. And then, with some kind of fucked-up reverse confirmation bias, I thought I must be fine if they thought I was. They were professionals after all.

But I wasn’t.

To repeat my theme of Mother’s Day, WE ARE NOT FINE.

We are battling impossible expectations with no professional support, and often no village. We are trying to be the home-making mums of our grandmothers’ generation and the breadwinners of today’s. The roles are loading up on our plates, and to be frank, we’re burning out.

I’m genuinely worried about how many of my mum friends are burning out. Our minds and bodies CANNOT sustain this.

It’s showing up as a variety of physical and mental health conditions, some of which we don’t fully recognise or understand yet. Like mum guilt, something that affects 95% of mums, but something no GP, health visitor or midwife will ever even mention.

Some of us know we’re struggling, but some of us just think it’s normal. We have no idea that we have a maternal mental health issue, so it wouldn’t occur to us to seek help. We’re invisible.

Remember, it suits society very nicely if we shut up, put up and don’t trouble anyone with our needs.

I got so angry about this, I mocked up these badges. Just like the ones we get in London so people actually understand we need a seat.

Would you wear one?

Imagine getting on a tube and instead of seeing pregnant women wearing the “baby on board” badges, you saw mums, like you, declaring their reality. I’m pretty sure most mums would be wearing them. Maybe next year, I’ll actually make them.

But what can we do this Maternal Mental Health Week? Yes, it’s this week, but you probably didn’t hear about it.

1,Drop the mask with one mum

Send her a voicenote. Tell her she doesn’t need to “be fine” with you. You get it, and you’re always here if she wants to talk or even just vent.

2, Drop the mask here

Tell your truth, share your experience in the comments below. This is a supportive community of mums who want to hear your voice.

3, Ask your workplace what they’re doing to support mums’ mental health

And if they don’t have a good answer, send them my way.

Nothing changes if we keep quiet.

ps. If you want to be part of more honest, empowering conversations about motherhood, subscribe to the F*** Mum Guilt Movement.