I was always that woman, the one who picked only dog-friendly cafés to meet friends with, and would host birthday parties for her dog. My pooch would never be put in kennels and would go to doggy day care when I was in work. I called my dog my baby and I meant it, so I had always assumed that my feelings would stay the same when I gave birth to my little girl. I was therefore in for a shock when my mental health nosedived and my once precious furry family member became the victim of an anger I never knew I was capable of.
Irritability, anger and rage are lesser-known symptoms of postnatal depression, but they are just as significant and potent as the lows in mood that are associated with the illness. They were certainly the most noticeable and upsetting symptoms in my case. My tolerance for my closest companion became almost nothing, and the closeness I used to find endearing got on my last nerves.
It took all of my focus to meet all of baby's needs, to keep her fed, clean, comfortable, stimulated and happy. So, when the incessant barking began, I would snap. I'd take to putting my poor pooch in the kitchen, slamming the door and crying. I would never raise a hand to my dog, but I still acted in a way that I'm not proud of. The rage would make my blood boil, she would get under my skin just by being near my baby and I didn't want to even associate with her let alone play with and walk her. Writing this fills me with such a sadness because I've always been devoted to my dog, but this is the power of mental illness.
I had always been firmly of the belief that a dog isn't to be given away when a new baby is born; after all, you wouldn't give your toddler or eldest child away! But my rage and behaviour created an environment of such toxicity that neither my baby, my dog or myself could have thrived. So what could I do?
Luckily, my Dad stepped in and offered to take my furry first-born on a "holiday to Grandad's house" until I felt more in control of my emotions. No, this wasn't a code for euthanasia, he was suggesting that my dog go to stay with him until I was coping better. So that's what we did.
I talked about it all at length with my psychologist who compared me to a mama bear. He told me that a bear with a new cub was programmed to protect the cub at all costs, and would lose its temper at any perceived threat. He went as far as to explain that I needn't necessarily feel as though the dog would physically harm my baby, but I could feel that her barking would threaten her sleep or her need for attention would threaten my time to meet baby's other needs. It made sense, and relieved me that I hadn't suffered a drastic personality change. He also assured me that these feelings would settle in time.
And lo and behold, they have. After several months of medication and therapy, I'm feeling less and less irritable and I can't remember the last time I was enraged. I've found myself missing my dog's company, and I've been able to cope with her barking when I've visited her at my dad's house.
If you feel like your fuse is shorter than usual, or that you just can't cope, it isn't your fault and you don't need to be embarrassed or ashamed. Talk to somebody about it because like my dad they may be able to offer you a solution, or like my psychologist they could provide a fresh perspective.
My dog may still be on holiday for now, but I can see a time in the very near future when I have all of my cubs back home.
-Lottie