‘Thrown out’: Mothers forced to leave hospital too soon after giving birth

Australian women are being forced to leave hospital too soon after giving birth - some as early as six hours post-birth.

Mothers don’t get adequate time in hospital to recover and learn the basic ropes of mothercraft, midwife and author Amelia Lamont argues in a new book.

When I reached out to my social media audience to ask them about their observations on the fourth trimester, one experience rang out loud and clear – the loneliness that comes with having a baby. It is taboo.

Unspoken about. We mums feel so selfish for experiencing this, yet so many do. What is it that makes us feel lonely during the fourth trimester? It’s the emptiness we feel when baby is out. The quiet house during the day. The unspoken conversation we have with ourselves in our head. The lack of banter with our work colleagues. The kettle that doesn’t talk back. The fridge that gives us nothing but cold milk. The dog that grimaces at us when we ask them a question. It’s the car trips with the baby where the only noise you hear is the baby rattle and the annoying radio. It’s the different conversations with your partner when they arrive home. It’s the Maternal and Child Health visits with just you and baby, sitting with the other new mums in the waiting room as you all stare awkwardly at each other.

Author and midwife Amelia Lamont.

All mothers feel it to a degree, yet don’t talk about it out loud. Mothers are lonely when they shop for food, when they pram walk, when they cook, when they clean, when they nurse, when they try on new clothes, when they online shop and when they scroll their phone. I guess that’s why we scroll so much.

Loneliness can also come from navigating this time mostly by yourself. No one to turn to for help. No one to answer your questions. No one to reassure you. No one to pull you out of your self-doubt. No one to “hang” with. No one to talk to about your baby and partner.

No one to share this rollercoaster with. At least it can feel this way, anyway. If only that village stood strong for us all.

Despite it feeling overwhelming and lonely at times, those long days have beautiful moments too. First smiles, first giggles, first time rolling over, first tooth perhaps, first interaction with mumma and partner, and first time meeting new families in the same boat. The long days also see you creating a wonderful bond with your baby, a unique one that no one else shares.

Your baby becomes your new little bestie and despite not giving back in terms of conversation, they give you so much more in love and affection. They have a unique way of filling our hearts and souls and making us forever grateful for these long days together that are tiring, yet so meaningful.

Our breastfeeding rates have declined and postnatal depression and postnatal anxiety rates have increased.

Mental health

Your mental health and your partner’s is just as important as keeping the baby alive. If you can’t look after yourself then how can you be expected to look after a baby? It is that simple.

The problem with mental health is the stigma surrounding it and the lack of support and resources accompanying a diagnosis of postnatal anxiety and/or depression.

Maternal and Child Health nurses will do their best to detect any mental health issues, but it also comes down to your honesty. Our GPs should be good at managing our mental health but unfortunately aren’t always, so it is easier said than done.

The reality is, we live in such a fast-paced, high-pressure, expensive, stress-filled world that it’s no wonder mental health issues are on the rise. Times have changed. Mothers don’t get adequate time in hospital to recover and learn the basic ropes of mothercraft; women are legit thrown out of hospital sometimes as soon as six hours post-birth and are expected to know how to breastfeed and keep themselves and their babies alive. We get thrown the excuses of bed shortages and lack of skilled midwives and nurses, but I can’t help wondering where we have gone wrong.

We live in such a fast-paced, high-pressure, expensive, stress-filled world that it’s no wonder mental health issues are on the rise.

Our parents, 40 years or so ago, got an average of five to 10 days in hospital. Even in the public system! Now it’s, ‘Cool, here is your baby, the conveyor belt doesn’t stop moving, pack your bags and get out’. No wonder our breastfeeding rates have declined and postnatal depression and postnatal anxiety rates have increased.

Maternity leave: don’t get me started. What maternity leave? It’s rubbish here in Australia. Cool, have your baby, spend a few short months at home, take this pay which will get you through five packets of biscuits and don’t forget you need to go back to work full time to support the ridiculously big childcare bills you’ll now have, not to mention mortgage or rent. Seriously, though, how are we meant to breathe? The pressure is insane.

I want to share some of my mental health journey post-birth to highlight some of these issues. Long story short, I was an experienced midwife having her first baby. I could settle any baby on the ward, attach any baby to the breast for a wonderful breastfeed and I could confidently reassure any worried new parent that everything was going to be OK.

Then I had my baby. He breastfed like a champ but never slept. And I mean never from day dot. Me, the midwife, the maternal one, couldn’t settle her own baby. I felt hopeless. I wasn’t diagnosed with postnatal depression or postnatal anxiety, but I could feel it coming if I didn’t get more than an hour and a half of straight sleep.

If you are suffering from baby sleep-related issues, talk to your GP.

So off we went to sleep school where I graduated with a new baby and an entirely new outlook on motherhood. Attending sleep school was the best decision I ever made. I was rested, mentally well and relieved I had help.

If you are suffering from similar sleep-related issues, talk to your GP. They can supply a referral, which is required, to visit a sleep school with your baby.

Twelve months later I was pregnant with my second. This wasn’t in my plans at this point, but it turns out the sperm couldn’t wait and neither could my egg. It was a hard pregnancy. I could feel the pressure of having two under two, months off it becoming my reality.

Lo and behold, my second was born and I became a mother to a newborn and a 20-month-old who was a cyclone. Who didn’t sit still. Who cried if he wasn’t outside playing on the road with his trucks and dirt. I had a partner who worked six days a week, 12-plus-hour days.

I was spent, and each day I could feel the anxiety bubbling away but “pushed” through. It was a hard first six months. Lack of sleep that crept in again, crazy hormones that struggled to settle, and a relationship that was failing was a wonderful combination to concoct the world’s worst postnatal anxiety, finally diagnosed and treated at nine months postpartum with my second child … But we came out the other side and life was good once again.

Anxiety affects your everyday life as a mother.

I can’t even explain to you how much anxiety affects your everyday life as a mother. I am grateful I didn’t also have postnatal depression as I can only imagine how distressing that would be; my anxiety already felt like it consumed every corner of my life. I had a brilliant GP who didn’t take no for an answer … and a psychologist who turned my wheel back to straight and sent me on the right road ahead.

I had the best family who acknowledged what I needed, and I was given time to rest, relax, recharge and steer things in the right direction again. But not everyone has this help. Not everyone is this supported. And it breaks my heart.

I don’t have the answers, but I do wish this: I wish our government paid for and allowed our mothers to spend a good week in hospital to learn the basics of rest and breastfeeding post-birth. I wish our mothers were supported and not shamed if they choose to bottle feed. I wish we had postnatal visits every week at home for the first few months.

I wish we had free access to sleep and settling classes, or even a weekstay program to help our tired eyes and bodies out. I wish we didn’t have to return to work so quickly. I wish more funding was allocated to allow new mums to comfortably afford to enjoy maternity leave instead of fearing whether we can do a food shop this week.

I wish we all had someone to tell us everything is going to be OK. I wish we all had help. Lots of help. Lots of love. Lots of support. I wish we all had someone to genuinely check in on us each day. But not everyone is that fortunate. I wish that we all, including partners, had endless access to professional help when we need it most. One can dream and hope.

The Fourth Trimester by Amelia Lamont.

How can you help yourself? By being true and honest with yourself. Be the one to voice it if you aren’t coping or don’t feel right. Talk, talk, talk to anyone that will listen and, for the love of god, please see your GP if you can feel your mental health declining, because you certainly aren’t the first to seek help, you aren’t the last and you aren’t alone.

Sleep deprivation can royally mess with your mental health and trigger postnatal anxiety and depression, so please always, always, always prioritise your mental health.

This is an edited extract of The Fourth Trimester by Amelia Lamont, Penguin, $37, out March 18. Now available for pre-order

Originally published as ‘Thrown out’: Mothers forced to leave hospital too soon after giving birth