Try as I might to take this blog in a serious direction for once, I probably won’t manage it. As I sit down to write this post I have every intention of sharing my experience of post-natal depression, and the debilitating panic attacks I’ve had since having Heidi. However, since this is such a departure from my usual care-free style, I suspect that I’ll wind up making a hash of it!

The truth is, I’ve given people reason to think I’m the biggest hypochondriac on the planet. Not a week goes by where we’re not beset by some disaster or another, or one of the family falls ill. I’m the sort of person who can make a headache sound like a tumor and I’m fully aware of this. But these panic attacks are in a league of their own and have really knocked me.

I’ve always been a bit of a happy loner. I love socialising, but only with people I know. Despite this, I’ve had customer-facing jobs and am a confident public speaker. Some might see this as a contradiction, I can only agree, but this is exactly how I’ve lived my life so far - all 30+ years of it. I’m at my happiest with Craig, Dexter and Heidi, but unfortunately this has a propensity to make me ill.

The whole saga started in 2012 when the midwife handed me Dexter. A bit of agoraphobia kicked in and I hated the faff of taking him out and about. The baby blues just didn’t seem to go away, and I wasn’t able to recover any of the energy I had before I was a mummy. Despite being treated for PND and feeling better emotionally, a little anxiety has stayed with me ever since. Until now this hadn’t manifested itself physically, I just tended to over think things and turn minor things into a drama.

The PND came back (as I’m told is often the case) when Heidi was born. This time however I was quick to nip to the doctors and get myself medicated. As was the case with Dexter, the medication has made the world of difference. I now feel happy, confident and more capable with the kiddies. I’m no longer wallowing around the house and tearing up at the prospect of a entire day alone with the two of them. I now enjoy every second with them both and things are exactly as they should be.

So when the panic attacks started 6 weeks ago, I didn’t have a clue what was wrong with me. In fact, I’ve only just accepted anxiety as a diagnosis.

My first ever attack happened in bed with Craig. One minute we were talking about the kids, and they next I was in agony. It felt like I had trapped wind in my chest, yet within seconds I was struggling to breathe and writhing around in bed. I was sweating, my back was aching, and every movement hurt. I kept begging Craig not to let me die as it felt as though I was having a heart attack. After 2 minutes pacing around the bedroom and clutching at Craig in desperation, he called for an ambulance.

Whilst waiting for them to turn up, I was sick. The sense of relief was instantaneous and I felt like an idiot. Despite me trying to reassure the ambulance crew I was okay, they weren’t prepared to take my word for it and gave me oxygen, and an ECG in my living room. To rule out a blood clot and run more tests they took me into hospital. Shortly later my blood results and a chest x-ray suggested I was all-clear and I was sent packing.

Believing this to be a one-off, I didn’t give it much thought until it returned 5 days later. Once again, I couldn’t catch my breath, my heart was racing, and I was sweating. Thinking it was a digestive problem, I made myself sick in the hope it would pass over again. But this time it didn’t work, and 10 minutes later we were back on the phone to the emergency services. But, once again, by the time they reached the house, it had abated.4

We had a long chat with the ambulance crew and they urged me to visit my doctor. They thought it could be a damaged esophagus from my c-section or even severe acid reflux. So I duly did as requested and was prescribed Omeprazole which is supposed to reduce the amount of acid in my stomach.

But the attacks have continued.

I’ve had so many now that they’ve become second nature. They seem to be completely random; occurring at any time of the day, and lasting anywhere between 15 minutes and an hour. Having now ruled out a digestive problem, I have little choice but to accept they’re postnatal anxiety attacks despite my feeling better than ever. My doctor is keen for me to try talking therapies but I’ve flat-out refused as I already know this won’t work for me. The next step is CBT which I’m just as dubious about but seems to offer a few practical tips for dealing with them when they arise.

So I thought I’d write this post to raise awareness of the problem, and advance the idea that might be a link between PND and anxiety attacks. There seems to real lack of information about it, despite anxiety among new mothers being rife in forums. The physical attacks however seem to be an under-investigated phenomenon.

I’ll let you all know how the CBT goes so you can consider it yourself if you’re in the same boat. Until then, I wondered, have any of you experienced panic attacks after giving birth? If so, I’d be really interested to hear your story.