What Katy Writes

In two days time, my baby boy will be three years old. Three whole years with him in our lives. He has brought with him immeasurable joy, even though my brain has been a bit of a muddle since the trauma of his birth. This vulnerable, raw, incredible time of my life - my labour, is where the decline all began. It highlights to me the flaws in our medical system and the occasional lack of empathy that can be present in a birthing suite (trust me, I know the opposite is also true and there are SO many amazing nurses and midwives out there). Around this time each year since Isaac was born, I start to have involuntary flashbacks. It's always the last half an hour of labour that comes to mind first. I knew in every fibre of my being that something wasn't right. I had asked for an epidural hours before, the midwife basically brushing off the request and telling me things were only going to get less, not more painful.  Flash forward and the room is full of nurses, my Obstet...

Dread. Overwhelm. Exhaustion. Anger. Sounds like the words of a hormonal, emotional teenager - and honestly, it's not an inaccurate description for me lately. I went to my GP a few weeks ago to talk about my medication and get my prescriptions. I have come a long way from what I was taking three years ago, however, I'm still on a fairly high dose of a drug called Effexor (225mg a day). I completely understand my psychiatrist's decision to trial me on this medication at the time of my hospitalisation after I had Isaac - I was literally begging him to make the depression stop, in any way possible. Effexor can work faster than some other antidepressants, but far out - it has changed my brain a lot.  One of the possible side effects is potentially causing high blood pressure, something that has been an issue for me since pregnancy. Long term, it was never intended that I stay on such a high dose anyway, so after talking with my GP and having my blood pressure tested (it was...