This case has been haunting me since the media coverage began. I was not aware of Lindsay Clancy until the news and social media exploded with play by play, step by step coverage of her trial. Every post on social media that concerns this case is fraught with a multitude of comments. Some sympathetic or empathetic, then the ones viciously against this woman.
I am a mother of 4 children. I understand how one feels after the birth of a child. I was not left in my own in the beginning thank God. I was one of the fortunate ones. Tommy had a week off from work when the baby was born. Then my mom took vacation from her job and came over every day to help for about 2 weeks? She did the same with my sister who has 3 children. Wendy and I joked that no one could do laundry like our mom after you have a baby. And that was so true! My sister and I both breastfed our babies. So my mom would straighten up the house, wash dishes, catch up with laundry. Sometimes we just sat together on the couch talking about what a great baby I just had.
To read of Lindsay Clancy and that she recognized she wasn’t feeling “right” and described what was going on in her mind. And that she asked for help not once or twice but repeatedly is like a knife through my heart. She did have family support. But family can only do so much when the battle is within yourself, one only you can fight. Without the correct tools such as medication and therapy you are helpless. When the very medication prescribed to “help” causes more harm or pain, the professional who prescribed the medication should be right there to respond to negative effects. Of course this is fictitous for most women who desperately need help when mental health is the subject. I can not imagine being post partum, suffering mental illness while expected to care for little children who depend on you for everything.
I’ve read the testimonies. I have no wise all knowing words of wisdom. I do remember like clockwork, at 2 weeks postpartum I had what my mom called “the 2 week blues”. I would be weepy, anxious, couldn’t make decisions like what to order for dinner after Samantha was born. Every task seemed monumental and the anxiety would take off like a rocket. None of my pre pregnancy clothes fit, I felt like a huge blob. (Why I picked that time to try clothes on is beyond me). I did not want to hurt myself or anyone else.
Does my experience even compare to this woman’s? Hell no. I was scared, but things got better on their own. I was one of the lucky ones. This woman asked for help. Told professionals how she felt, what was going wrong in her head. No one treating her communicated with the other, medications were prescribed with no discussion of side effects or dangerous effects that can happen simply by taking the drug.
I’m in no way saying Ms. Clancy is guilty or innocent. I’m discussing the poor, ineffective, disconnected treatment she received from highly educated psychiatric professionals. The treatment she received is frightening.
Menay O; mom to 4, Christian and thrift shopper on the side... 