Vicki Cockerill - NICU MUM Blog

This letter was never written to be published, this was a letter to Greg, my partner trying to tell him I needed help. I needed him to know that it wasn't just being tired and hormonal that was causing me to be a bit down, I was pregnant and depressed. I cannot really put my finger on the exact reason, and I felt ashamed, insensitive and selfish I was feeling like this when so many are struggling to get pregnant or have lost a child. I know they would swap with me in a flash if they could. That's why I kept it in, pretended I was okay but as the weeks went by it was getting harder and harder to hide, and it was beginning to creep out. I lost my appetite, I had no patience with Elijah and spent most of the time lashing out at Greg. Enough was enough I knew these feelings, and knew I couldn't let them get the better of me. Not this time. Not much is out there about mental illness in pregnancy, as after all isn't this supposed to be a happy time? I wanted to share this...

                                                             M aternal mental health to be precise. Every mum no matter what their situation deserves to have access to non-judgemental mental health support. Why? Because, every mum matters. May 1-7 th marks Maternal Mental Health week, and one I am proud to be an official partner of. It is something I have regularly blogged and spoken about. This week will show the gaps that so desperately need to be addressed in mums receiving the care they need. After the birth of my first son, I was diagnosed with a mental illness, at times I was let down by the system and have struggled a lot to come to terms ...

I sat on the bed, Elijah was screaming, after refusing another bottle and being up all night. I stared out of the window with the tears running down my face and came to the crushing realisation, I was a crap mum. I couldn’t do this. I began to regret our decision to even have a baby. I bombarded Greg with messages whilst he was ay work begging him to come home. I couldn’t cope, I didn’t know what to do. He offered to send his sister round to help but the shame of someone seeing me like this, that I had failed tore me up. I pleaded for him to leave it, I would be okay. All you want in the world is for someone to help you, yet the minute that offer is there you cannot possibly take it. Instead you continue to punish yourself. Self-destruction intimate, I carried on barely holding it together for more than a day. I tried to control how I was really feeling by not eating and abusing pills. Our start to motherhood wasn’t the typical kind, and I am unsure if I would have felt like this if...

Vote for me! My blog started 9 months ago now, and is considered my baby. It took 9 months of growing and it developed into something so much more than I ever imagined. It has led me to connect and meet some amazing people. I started the blog as a way of processing what I was feeling when I was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after the birth of Elijah. I wanted to tell my story, as if writing it down would somehow make it better, that it may help others and it did. It gave me a channel to focus everything that I was feeling and thinking and to get it out. I didn’t expect much to come of the blog when I first set it up, I didn’t even set it up one of our friends did and I had no clue what I was doing! Then it became an addiction, I had to write and write and write, the more I did the more I felt like myself again. It was if I was becoming a better version of the person I was before as I was stronger, I had a focus and a purpose to help others who were going through t...

In my 26 years there has been many a time, I have been depressed. Looking back to my teenage years it was due to not being able to cope with rejection, loss and not feeling I belonged. As I grew older, it was just like an old friend, every now and again when you least expected it, there it was rearing its ugly head and dragging me back. I think at times I had even become dependent on my depression, I expected it to be there, and if it did go away it wouldn’t be long before it returned. I guess, I am one of those people, I think too much, I worry more, and suffer from a lot of self-doubt. I basically I attract depression and melancholy. Sometimes, like an old friend, you may just bump into them, and it will be a quick catch up and the depression is again on its away. However, there are times where we can have a full blown reunion. This will lead to a trip to the doctors, and my other very good friend, the trusty anti-depressant is prescribed. The chemicals re align in my brain, I w...

I planned on featuring a piece that I was going to write for the last day of #PNAW16. However when I received this amazing piece by Nicola from Too Much Mothering Information I knew I found my final show stopper. As soon as I greedily read this in about 2 minutes I knew it was perfect. It was honest, heartfelt and emotionally moving. At times I actually could imagine her reading this to her daughter face to face when she is older. When you suffer from PND/ PTSD there is a degree of guilt you feel. You feel guilty for feeling like this, guilty for how you feel about your baby. I have also wondered what Elijah may feel when he reads back on what I have written and how bad I really felt, how depressed I got. I wonder if he will feel differently about me as his mother. This is the last post in my #PNDAW16 series, so if you haven't already go check out the others!     Dear Ada, You are three years and ten months old. I am 35. And you have taught me more than I...

Today I wanted to share a piece that I wrote when I first started writing about my PTSD, and our NICU/ CHD story. I didn't know where the blog would take me and in just a few months I am overwhelmed with how far I have come. For the first time in quite some time I feel happy, positive and in control of myself. Something I was the complete opposite of back in March. I was a shell of myself. We are now approaching Elijah's 2nd birthday and for once I am looking forward not backwards. It just goes to show the difference of what you can happen when you begin to talk and start a conversation about something like PTSD. I was very frightened when I was first spoke out, what would people think of me? We need to stop the stigma, stop the fear and let other speak, free from judgement. Until only a couple of months ago I didn’t even have a Facebook account. I used my partner Greg’s to snoop on other people’s, did not understand Twitter (I still don’t tbh), and thought Instagram was som...