My journey into motherhood was not what I had imagined. I come from a family of strong-willed women, and my diagnosis of perinatal depression and anxiety (PNDA) certainly took me by surprise.

My daughter came into the world after a long labour which ended in an emergency caesarean. Our obstetrician couldn’t find a cause for distress as everything looked healthy once she came out.

I had requested my placenta be kept for burial but it was thrown out. I felt disrespected and hurt, but having my daughter immediately placed on my chest, I put these feelings to the back of my mind. Placenta burial is common practice in my (Aboriginal) culture. It connects us to Mother Earth, and then later connects us to our Ancestors.

When I left the hospital, things spiralled quickly. I was crying every day. My daughter wouldn’t sleep, my entire body was burning in pain every day, my baby screamed most days and I felt lonely. The baby blues didn’t leave.

Breastfeeding was difficult, we saw a lactation consultant, GP, and child and family health nurses, but in the end I gave up. I’m thankful I tried everything. Formula was the best decision, and I remember the night we got our first tin.

I was in hysterics and mum called. She said, “J, she’s either in pain from the reflux, tired or hungry. Let’s rule out hungry.” I didn’t have it in me to keep trying the breast. I had been doing it all day and was in pain.

Mum said,“You live in Sydney and the supermarket is open till late. I’ll do research on what formula they have and let’s go from there, they close at midnight.” At 10pm, my daughter was still unsettled. I strapped her into the carrier and, my partner and I walked to the supermarket. We went to the baby aisle, and both felt daunted. Mum called and we decided which formula and bottle to buy together.

We got home and had no idea how to sterilize a bottle or how much to make. Eventually, we made up 60mls and she absolutely smashed it and then slept for almost the entire night. She was hungry. I was starving her. The guilt came flooding back again. I couldn’t birth her vaginally, I couldn’t feed her, I couldn’t get her to sleep, what’s next?

I was experiencing severe intrusive thoughts every day. When I would walk with my daughter along the beautiful bush tracks, I would start panicking thinking red bellies would attack me. What if a snake chased me, I imagined running, tripping over, and dying (from the snake bite) and no one would know where we were or hear my daughter crying on my chest in the carrier.

On other days, I would be driving and start thinking that I would crash the car down a hill into a brick wall. The thoughts got worse and I would start picturing blood, broken bones, and screams from my baby.

These things sound crazy but the thoughts and images were so clear in my mind, it was terrifying and eventually made me too scared to go bushwalking.

Every day I’d wake up and feel like my brain was covered in clouds, I couldn’t think properly. My body felt heavy, I was sad about everything, I felt horrible, lonely, and not myself. I missed my old life so badly. Depression felt like a deep hole I couldn’t get myself out of.

My mobile phone was set to ‘do not disturb’ for at least 12 months after my daughter was born. I didn’t want any sound to wake her on the days she did eventually give up and sleep. I ignored messages and calls and simply blocked myself off from everyone.

I saw countless healthcare professionals for postpartum care, and no one escalated the help I truly needed. From the outside I appeared okay, but inside I was falling apart. Another day passed, and I was sitting on the kitchen floor crying again, googling how I could get help that didn’t cost a fortune.

I came across Gidget Foundation Australia and booked an appointment straight away to see my GP for a referral.

I clearly remember my first appointment at Gidget House. I had just dropped my then 8-month-old daughter at daycare and emotions were running high for the both of us.

The separation at drop-off was filled with tears from her at the door and tears from me in the car as I left her. I drove to Gidget House hoping I would get the help I needed.

I was connected with a beautiful Gidget Clinician who made me feel welcome but most importantly, I felt seen and understood. I had been going through this alone for eight months and I was literally falling apart.

I birthed off country and my postpartum experience was sadly traumatic which led to a rapid decline in my mental health. Since I didn’t get to take my placenta home, my baby’s umbilical cord will be buried in a special place that will spiritually connect her to my Nan. My girl will always know her connection to the country of our ancestors and the country she was birthed on.

When we moved house, my daughter was 4 months old, I was in the trenches of PNDA trying to adjust to motherhood. Every day I noticed kookaburras were on the back fence, the clothesline or the deck. Not one kookaburra, I’m talking three or four of them. They are always around us and not shy about coming close.

One of my totems is the kookaburra, the protector. My Aunty told me things will get better, look around, the kookaburra means protection and kinship. They are always around you and your baby.

One day I heard this odd noise in the house. I checked each room and got to my daughter’s room, a kookaburra was calmly sitting on her bedroom floor, he or she started squawking, and then out came the familiar cackling laugh.

Thankfully my partner was home and we safely got the kookaburra outside again. I like to think the strong presence of kookaburras around my family is a sign of powerful healing and safety.

If you’re having a tough time, slow down and connect with Country - it has so much to give. Sit in the sunshine, listen to the birds, listen to the leaves in the trees - we call this Dadirri.

Country is everything, it’s family, it’s life and it’s connection.