Postnatal Depression and Leadership: A Personal Story

Nothing could have prepared me for how much life would change when my son entered our lives in 2014. No amount of (well-meaning) advice, birthing or parenting classes would have been enough - you can't comprehend how much a newborn changes your life. But in hindsight, that was the easy (well, easier!) bit. The crippling postnatal depression ("PND") I experienced was harder - not least because it wasn't diagnosed until my son was two and a half!

Like many women I know, I had waited until I felt sufficiently 'safe' in my career before I had a baby, which meant I was 35 and going through the partner admissions process at my firm - so I went back to work when my son was six months old.

William was a wonderfully happy, smiley, easy-going baby, except he didn't sleep. When I say he didn't sleep, I mean he woke every 45 minutes (until he was five years old!), so I was going to work after being at multiple times at night.

By winter of that year, I knew I wasn't in a great place, but at that point, I just thought I was exhausted. I was trying to prove myself in my new role: growing a business and a team and caring for a baby that wouldn't sleep.

At that point, I saw a company Doctor - who failed to listen. He quickly decided I had 'Adjustment Disorder' from having a new role and baby. He sent me away, telling me, 'You just need to get used to all the changes in your life - you will be fine'.

Alongside seeing the Doctor, I decided I'd have a month off over Christmas. It was a relatively quiet work period, and I just needed a rest. I told my boss then that I was tired and needed a break. A couple of days later, the Partner in charge (my boss's boss) caught me in the office and said, 'I hear we've broken you. We tend to do that to new female Partners with children'.?

Yep, you read that right!

Being called 'broken' just floored me. It put words to my deepest fear - that I couldn't hack it as a Partner and would get found out (imposter syndrome, anyone?!). That I wasn't good enough because I wasn't superhuman, and I often found things hard (more on that later!).

So, I returned to work after my month off, and for the next 18 months, I just focused on getting through the day in survival mode. Because nothing had changed - I didn't ask for help, and I certainly didn't tell anyone I was struggling. I just focused on getting to the end of the day. But because I could get through the day, I did. But it was so hard. My mood was low, my arms and legs hurt, and I had awful brain fog (like someone had stuffed my head with cotton wool and treacle). I was also often tearful and withdrawn (usually at home - where I didn't have to pretend I was okay). Thinking was hard. Everything was hard.

During that period, I started working with a fantastic coach - who remains my coach (and good friend) to this day! After a few months of working together, she had seen through the well-built facade of 'I'm fine', and she staged an intervention with a psychiatrist, who a week later told me he believed I had PND and that I had had it since my son was born - two and half years ago.?

Sitting in his office, I remember feeling immense sadness and shame. But I also felt incredibly relieved because it meant there was a reason everything was hard. We spent the next few months experimenting with medication, and when I started to feel better, I also started therapy.

A year into my recovery, I publicly shared my experience as part of the firm's work to launch its mental health strategy. The first stage of that strategy was for six partners in the UK (there were over 1,000 at the time) to share their experiences with their mental health as 'Mental Health Advocates'. So I stood on stage, wrote blogs and recorded videos about my journey with my mental health because I wanted people in the firm to be able to ask for help. I wanted staff to get help when needed - just like if they had a broken leg or cancer.

But more than that, I didn't want anyone else in the firm to have that experience that I had in that corridor with that Partner, who said, 'You're broken'. And I didn't want people to suffer in silence like I did.

And here is the thing - I think the suffering in silence is almost worse than the PND itself because I felt so alone and isolated. I felt like I was surrounded by superhumans who didn't appear to find anything difficult or struggle with their mental health. They were well-spoken, well dressed and super confident. No one senior openly talked about their mental health.

My primary motivation was to show people you can be successful AND have a mental health condition. And that it does not end your career. I wanted to be that role model I never had.

I also wanted to prove (to myself and others) that there was another way to lead. You can lead with vulnerability and authenticity - and you don't have to be superhuman. Being professional doesn't mean you can't show your emotions or bring your whole self to work.

The other motivation was wanting something good from a lonely, isolating, dark period. And I know that it did. Once I started sharing my story, people from all over the firm would seek me out to share their stories. They would ask for help. They would say they felt less alone.

And feeling less alone - knowing you're not the only one feeling that way you do - is so very empowering.

And what I did for them, they did for others. It created an incredible ripple effect and momentum within the firm to address the stigma associated with mental health.

So, if you're sitting there wondering if you're the only one feeling the way you do, I promise you're not.

Whatever you're facing, other people will be facing it too.

Maybe you can tell one person you trust what is going on for you — just one.

And if you have been there and felt alone but don't anymore, maybe you could try sharing your experience? I know it's hard and requires enormous courage - but you don't have to do it publicly. You could tell one person who may need to hear it.

In a world of toxic positivity, comparison and tech, people need leaders to be vulnerable, kind and compassionate.

We need humans to be human.

Much love

Anna x