Looking at my three-year-old, people say I'm a great mother and that my daughter, Victoria, is clever and well-adjusted.
But they would be surprised if they knew this: In the first few months of her life, I entertained graphic thoughts of picking her up, opening the window of my flat and throwing her out of it.
I was going through post-partum depression.
I can laugh now, but at that time it was no laughing matter. I didn't realise what was happening. I just felt overwhelmed by this little person who didn't like to sleep.
I guess I had really set myself up for deep disappointment.
I got pregnant when I was 26 and I wanted to go the natural way. I looked for a gynaecologist who believed in it, and I even went on radio to tell listeners that I wouldn't have an epidural.
When my friend, a mother of three, heard the show, she called to say I was mad to have such high expectations of myself.
She was right. It turned out to be a difficult birth and I ended up going through an emergency C-section.
I also thought that, after the birth, the nurse would clean the baby, put her in my arms and my husband would take a snapshot which would be picture perfect - like we see on TV.
It was nothing like that.
When I looked at the photo, I was dishevelled and my face like kena bus langah (like a bus had hit me).
When I went home with Victoria, I had to cope with my C-section wound, a crying and non-sleeping baby, and bleeding nipples.
All these little things added up - making me feel like a loser. It was no wonder I went into depression.
I also had a bad scare - I discovered a huge lump within my armpit. I panicked because I thought it was cancer and I told my husband, Lingun, that I was going to die.
It was a good thing I had a lactation expert come in to teach me to breastfeed. She explained to me that it was a gigantic milk duct under the arm and she taught me to massage it so it would subside. (I never knew milk ducts extended to the armpits!)
I went through six months of post-partum depression before I realised what it was.
Once I was aware of the condition, I was mindful of what I did. I didn't go for treatment, nor was I on any medication.
My own mother was sick then, so my mother-in-law took care of me. She was a brick.
The depression didn't wear off overnight. It was a slow process. There was the Lego-throwing episode just before Victoria turned two and the poor girl still remembers the day mummy turned into Mad Medusa Mum.
Poor Lingun too.
He didn't know how to cope when I was going off my rocker. He tried to help but felt that whatever he did wasn't good enough. But he was very patient and sweet about things.
In a couple of months I will be having my son. I hope with the knowledge and experience I've gained, I'd be able to cope much better this time round.
All by myself
Before we even had children, my husband, Swee Chong, felt that I would most probably suffer from post-natal depression.
I think I have a predisposition for being depressed.
I had Rachel 11 years ago. We were living in Britain then and I had to look after the baby alone.
I didn't have a maid or a network of family - mother, father, or the in-laws - to help me. It was just me and myself.
I had a difficult pregnancy and an equally difficult post-birth, so it was no wonder I felt so rotten about myself.
I couldn't cope with the baby and I couldn't get out of the rut. I cried all the time.
I never ever realised it was depression when I was in the thick of it. I only thought I was having a lousy week or a lousy month.
I had to discover for myself what I was suffering from and deal with it every day.
On bad days, I wanted to hurt myself, but never did I entertain thoughts of harming or killing the baby.
I didn't want to see it as depression, which would mean I was sick. I would rather deal with it as a lousy day, a lousy week or a lousy month and have the courage to carry on.
You remember the bad days
I guess feeling lousy and depressed stems from the notion that the responsibility for the baby is yours as a woman, and as the mother. You break out of the cycle only when you realise that you have a choice.
Only Swee Chong knew what was wrong with me and he was very supportive.
Doctors had advised me to take medication, but I didn't want to.
Sometimes in retrospect, I wonder if things would have been different if I had gone on the meds.
It wasn't always bad. There were good days, of course, and during those days I would take Rachel for a walk in the park.
Yet, when Swee Chong and I talk about those days, we always remember the bad times. They were a fraction of the good ones, yet they stick strongly in our minds.
I had Livvy (Olivia) nine years later, but I can't remember if I had post-natal depression then.
This time, I was back in Singapore, I had the maid, and my mother was coming over every day.
There were still days when I felt lousy, but I don't remember feeling as lousy as when I had Rachel.
I didn't let on that I was having a bad day - it's probably the Asian face-saving culture. Now I understand why men don't ask for directions when they are lost!
