04 Sep Remembering the ‘Baby Blues’
Barbara Fraser recalls how desperate she felt after the birth of her son… some 40 years ago.
The Crying That Never Stopped
From birth, he cried, drawing his little legs up in agony. Medical checks showed nothing wrong, and our GP put it down to colic. Medication was prescribed, but he still cried all afternoon and most nights—especially when my husband worked long overtime hours.
The sound of a distressed baby can undo a novice mother. I would put him down, clean and fed, only to hear the wailing start again. Sometimes I’d walk to the end of the yard, hands over my ears, just for a moment’s peace—before guilt dragged me back.
Desperate for Support
Once, I rang my parents sobbing, “If you don’t help me, you won’t have a grandson.” My father’s calm reply: “We’ll be there in 20 minutes.” They were wonderful—Mum did the ironing and housework, Dad took me shopping, and both helped care for my baby.
I still felt so inadequate. No one talked about postnatal depression back then; older women dismissed it as “baby blues.” Only my husband, my parents, and the kind sister at the local Mothers and Babies Clinic kept me steady. “Colicky babies are clever,” she reassured me. That gave me hope.
Long Days and Sleepless Nights
I walked miles with the pram, overstayed with friends, and paced our bare floors indoors on cold days. At night, we drove around the district with the bassinette in the back seat just to get him to sleep.
One winter, he developed an ear infection. Antibiotics brought diarrhoea, and I struggled to keep up with nappies during 16 straight days of rain. With golden staph outbreaks common, I boiled everything—linen, towels, and nappies—in our gas copper. Washing, spinning, boiling, drying: it never ended. The house looked like a laundry.
A Doctor’s Wake-Up Call
By week’s end, I was a wreck. We took him to an after-hours doctor, fearing his infection had worsened. To my surprise, the baby was smiling and healthy. The doctor, an older man, calmly explained, “He’s fine. The Valium I’ll prescribe is for you, my dear. You’re exhausted. Your milk supply is probably gone—he’s just hungry.”
I had been furious, thinking it was for my baby. Reluctantly, I took one tablet and slept through until midday. My husband had coped, the baby was fed and happy, and the sun was shining. I never needed sedatives again.
Looking Back with Gratitude
Motherhood is an awesome responsibility. By nine months, my son was thriving, and the blues had lifted. Today, with multiple university degrees, he has more than lived up to that nurse’s early prediction.
Looking back, I’m grateful for family support, wise medical advice, and the resilience I somehow found to get through.
Illustrations by Madeleine Stamer
