04/02/2026
This story really highlights how experiences before birth matter so much. The miscarriage and the way it was handled during Covid sound profoundly traumatic, with no meaningful psychological support or containment at the time. When trauma is held in the nervous system without support, later stressors such as pregnancy, birth, sleep deprivation and hormonal shifts can act as powerful amplifiers.
Depression and anxiety can be understood as trauma survival responses, nervous system strategies for coping with threat, loss and overwhelm. When this is not recognised, distress is treated in isolation from the experiences that shaped it, and symptoms are pathologised rather than understood.
Alongside the vital role of Mother and Baby Units when someone becomes acutely unwell, this story makes a strong case for earlier trauma informed intervention. We need far better support after miscarriage and during subsequent pregnancies, and better training for doctors in trauma, the nervous system, and the perinatal context. Without this lens, opportunities for prevention are missed and women are left to reach crisis point before receiving specialist care.
If you are a woman who feels your experiences have been overlooked or minimised, you are not alone. Your story matters, and support should not depend on reaching crisis point.
If you are a GP or healthcare professional who is curious about deepening your understanding of how traumatic experiences shape the nervous system across the lifespan, and how this shows up in clinical practice, you are very welcome to get in touch.
‘I was lucky to get a bed on a Mother and Baby Unit – every woman with postpartum psychosis should have access to one.’ Read on for Frankie’s story.
'My friend said I’m the world’s worst patient and she is absolutely right. My brain doesn’t cope well with being told what to do or being stuck indoors, so I keep it happy by being active and spending lots of time outside. So, if I’m being honest, I absolutely loathed being stuck in a Mother and Baby Unit (MBU). But I don’t know where I’d be today without the high standard of care that I received in there.
It was after giving birth to my firstborn that I became unwell, although, when I look back on it, I was struggling with anxiety for a long time before I even got pregnant. I found the pandemic really tough - not the fear of being ill, but the fear of being confined. I was also struggling with anxiety around the pregnancy, as I miscarried the first time which was really traumatic. Due to covid restrictions my partner waited in the corridor while I sat on my own waiting for our scan to confirm the pregnancy had ended. He was briefly allowed in before being sent back outside. We weren’t offered any counselling or support.
I got pregnant a few months after the miscarriage and hated every second of the pregnancy. Even after the 12-week scan when they told me my baby was well and wriggling around, I couldn’t relax. I became convinced the baby had stopped moving and was going to die.
I told myself that when the baby arrived I’d be able to relax, but my daughter wasn’t gaining weight and seemed so vulnerable. And so after the birth my fears about dead babies intensified.
I wasn’t sleeping, I was having to drive to the other side of the city for health appointments because of the pandemic and I was exhausted. But I kept powering through. When I couldn’t sleep at night I was cooking or painting furniture at 4am, and I was putting my daughter in her baby sling and going for four-mile walks across the moors. Because I’m such an active person these things didn’t stand out too much, but in retrospect they were definitely extreme - even for me.
I saw my GP and was diagnosed with postnatal depression and given antidepressants – and things rapidly deteriorated.
After starting antidepressants, I was cycling through rapid mood swings – being absolutely manic one minute and telling my partner I felt like jumping off a bridge the next. Plus, my sleep at this point was pretty non-existent and I became convinced that it was because of the colour of my bed sheets. I was terrified that I might never sleep again and the lack of sleep would kill me. I became increasingly possessive over my baby and refused to let my partner take on his share. I was hearing babies crying when I did manage to step away from her for a shower or to rest but would come downstairs in a panic to find her sleeping peacefully.
About ten weeks post-birth I mentally hit a cliff edge, the crisis team was called, and I was admitted to an MBU.
I already knew what an MBU was because they came up in my Google searches when I was trying to find out what was wrong with me. I knew something wasn’t right - I just didn’t know what - so I agreed to go in voluntarily. My partner later told me that had I not agreed, I would likely have been sectioned the following day.
It was a weird experience because it was during the pandemic, and I had to stay in 24-hour isolation upon arrival, but it was good for me because I was given lorazepam and finally slept.
They immediately took me off my antidepressants and started me on antipsychotics and the psychosis improved really quickly. Still, I didn’t enjoy being in there. I know people need MBUs and hospital care, but I resented being inside and feeling like my life was controlled – and all the pandemic restrictions on top of that were tough, too. But I knew it was the best place for me.
Although the psychosis subsided quite quickly, I had really bad anxiety and my sleep patterns were all over the place. Even after discharge, I had recurrent periods of insomnia and I lost a lot of confidence. I found myself deferring to my partner when I’m naturally independent and stubborn.
I was back at work 10 months after giving birth and, although in hindsight I probably wasn’t fully ready for it, my manager was great and I felt really supported.
After having postpartum psychosis, I didn’t think I’d have another baby. But after a few years I felt ready to try.
I became pregnant really quickly and have been lucky that the second time around I didn’t become mentally unwell – but I also knew I had lots of NHS professionals on the case if I did.
I feel so grateful that, when I needed it, that specialist care on an MBU was there for me – because the idea of being separated from your baby on a general psychiatric ward is inhumane. I was told there were only eight beds for Yorkshire and the Humber so I was incredibly lucky to get a place when I needed it – and that’s why we need more MBU beds available for anyone who needs them. You hope you won’t need one but if you do become seriously ill, it’s definitely the best place for you. It will probably be hard but what would be a damn sight harder is sitting at home and letting it get worse and worse.
That’s why I think, if you get the choice to go voluntarily, you should absolutely take it. You might feel as though you’re losing your freedom at first, but you’ll get your freedom back so much sooner if you accept all the specialist help on offer. And when you look back on it, you’ll feel good about making that choice and accepting that help. I know that being on a mental health unit doesn’t make me a crap parent – and that accepting the help was the best thing to do for me and my baby.'
If you have been affected by this story, need any support, or want to meet others affected by postpartum psychosis, please get in touch: https://ow.ly/8lLZ50XSwUs
