‘I thought my breast milk was poisoning my baby’: Mum tells of post-natal depression with psychotic features

At her darkest hour, this young mum thought her milk was black and poisoning her newborn. Now, she is telling her story to Jess Adamson to help others.

This story begins with a text message I received from a friend, in April last year.

Elise Howie and her husband Laurence, who happens to look like Prince Harry, live on a beautiful property near Renmark in the Riverland.

The message asked me to join them for coffee at the Foodland supermarket in Frewville. They’d just welcomed Charlie, an adorable baby boy, three weeks before and while it struck me as an unusual location for a catch-up with a newborn, I was excited to see them.

I realised pretty quickly something wasn’t right. Elise looked drawn and spoke quietly.

“I’m at Helen Mayo House,” she said.

I’d never heard of Helen Mayo House but it’s just a stone’s throw from the supermarket we were in, and I’ve come to know it well since that day.

Elise Howie and her husband Laurence and baby Charlie.

Elise Howie with baby Charlie.

Run by the Women’s and Children’s Hospital Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service, it’s a six-bed, six-cot unit at Glenside, providing inpatient care for new mums with a serious mental health problem.

Elise was in real trouble. This is her story.

She’d experienced anxiety during pregnancy and as a clinical psychologist herself, who battled and overcame a deadly eating disorder as a teenager, she’d sought help from a psychologist.

The pregnancy itself went smoothly until Elise developed pre-eclampsia at 36 weeks.

She was flown to the Women’s and Children’s and Charlie was born two days later.

And then it began.

“I started crying on day three and then I just didn’t stop for three weeks afterwards,” she says.

“We finally got to take him home, a three-and-a-half-hour drive, and by Main North Rd Charlie and I were both crying. None of it was like I expected.

“Laurence asked why I was crying and I just didn’t know.”

The tears were a sign of what was about to unfold. At home, Elise deteriorated.

“On the Friday night, after we’d been home for about a week, I suddenly started thinking that my breast milk was poisoning Charlie,” Elise says.

Baby Charlie takes a dip.

Elise and Charlie.

“I remember waiting for a few hours. I was crying. Something in me was saying ‘you have to tell Laurence’.”

She eventually did and at 7pm on that Friday night, a local midwife drove to their home.

“I was so distressed. I thought that everyone was working against me to harm Charlie in some way,” Elise says.

“It was so hard because part of me knew that it wasn’t true. Logically I knew I wasn’t poisoning him but this other part of me was screaming ‘my breast milk is black’.

“It was the worst double scenario. I couldn’t be trusted and in my mind everyone else was trying to hurt him too. It was horrific, I was terrified.

“I knew the newborn days would be hard but I expected sleep deprivation and the normal things, not thinking I’m going to poison my baby.

“The midwife was incredible. She sat next to me on the couch and said, ‘I think you need to go to hospital’.”

Elise was taken to Riverland General Hospital and a week later, transferred to Helen Mayo House.

Charlie was three weeks old when his mother, a beautiful, kind and intelligent young woman was diagnosed with post-natal depression with psychotic features.

Post-natal depression does not discriminate, it can happen to any new mum, like a cruel lottery.

It’s a nightmare that thousands are living and as a community, we don’t acknowledge it enough.

Elise Howie says her husband Lawrence was an amazing support.

The family spent months in Helen Mayo House seeking help.

The Centre for Perinatal Excellence tells us one in seven women experience depression in the year following birth. Other sources estimate it’s more like one in five.

But the stigma surrounding it means many are too ashamed to seek help. It’s dangerous for them and potentially their baby. Some of the saddest stories I’ve covered as a reporter were of new mothers who just couldn’t see their way through.

At Helen Mayo House there’s a constant waiting list for the six beds. The new Women’s and Children’s Hospital will cater for 12 women and their babies. I have no doubt it will be an outstanding, lifesaving service, just like Helen Mayo, but it’s a tiny drop in a big ocean.

Psychiatrist Dr Elsa Jureidini sees heartbreak in mums like Elise every week at Helen Mayo.

“No one wants to be in that situation, severely unwell and away from their family and friends,” she says.

“To be experiencing that at a time that’s ‘meant to be’ so wonderfully joyful, it’s really distressing.

“I really feel for the patients that we see and the patients we don’t see.

“We go into motherhood without realistic expectations because people aren’t open about how difficult it is.

“And then there’s the impact of social media, this heavily-curated idea of what parenting is ‘supposed to look like’ and for the vast majority of women that I talk to, it’s nothing like that.”

Elise and Charlie take a dip.

Charlie stayed in hospital with mum Elise as she recovered.

Elise was given a bed quickly at Helen Mayo because of the seriousness of her condition, not once but twice.

She initially stayed for 10 weeks. I visited her multiple times and her torment was hard to watch.

“I felt like a failure,’’ she says.

“I felt a huge amount of shame and failure and grief – grief for the time that we weren’t at home.

“Charlie spent five months of his first year of life in hospital with me. I felt like I’d let Laurence, our families, everyone down.”

She was robbed of so many precious moments, but in those early, agonising months, Laurence was her one constant.

“It was really hard for him but he was unfailing in his devotion to me and Charlie,” Elise says.

“I remember lying on the bed crying and he was holding Charlie in one arm singing to him and running the bath for me to get into.

“He would have been terrified too. He bargained on being able to parent with a wife who wasn’t accusing him of trying to poison his baby.”

Elise began a range of medications, intense counselling and bravely undertook 12 ECT sessions – that’s electroconvulsive therapy where under anaesthetic, electric currents are passed through the brain, triggering seizures.

It’s safer than it used to be but along with a shattered tooth from a seizure, she suffered severe memory loss. For someone who relies on her memory and intellect, it was a brutal blow in the darkest of times.

She doesn’t recall visitors. Only photos remind her we were there.

But 18 months on from Charlie’s birth, through sheer hard work and the love for her family, Elise Howie is fighting back again – and she’s winning.

She’s started her own private psychology practice, is co-ordinating the local social tennis competition, enjoying holidays with family and friends – and most of all, precious time with her cheeky, inquisitive and happy little boy.

She is a beautiful and brilliant mum, an inspiration to many. And she’s so grateful for the care and support she’s received.

Her struggle with depression was never about how much she loved Charlie.

“I loved Charlie so much and didn’t ever want anything to happen to him but at the same time, you’re feeling as low as you’ve ever felt,” she says.

“It’s really hard to reconcile those two feelings but in itself, the amount of love that you feel for your child is separate to the amount of distress that you feel at that time.”

And so, what does the future look like?

Elise has thought long and hard about risking her own health to have another child.

But she’s never liked the idea of not doing something for fear of something bad happening.

“Charlie is just incredible – if we could have a second child that would be amazing,” she says.

It’s been the hardest but also the best time of her life. A beautiful boy with a dazzling smile has helped turn the darkness into light.