It’s 7am in a postnatal ward. I’ve been brought here having given birth around four hours earlier. I’m hot and have not slept since arriving at the hospital at 9pm for an induction, only to go into labour spontaneously before it could begin. All around me is incandescent hospital light and the sound of crying newborns. This would be challenging enough for someone who isn’t neurodivergent, but coupled with my attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) I could feel my ability to cope unravelling.
I remember looking around, crying, unable to shut off the noise in my brain. “What if I don’t ever sleep again,” the little voice asked. I shut my eyes and the noise grew. Then there was my newborn son, lying next to me in a cot, and the fact that I had absolutely no idea how to look after him. I pressed the emergency buzzer and told the midwife who arrived that I could not breathe and needed to be discharged immediately. She said they couldn’t do that because I was under the mental health team and needed to speak to them first. I cried more.
