Jessica Friedmann is at the hospital, her uterus is still inflamed months after the birth of her son Owen. She's sitting in the waiting room, thinking about her old university, just across the road. How she could walk to a building where she once had French, walk up 11 flights of stairs, to room where the windows opened wide to the sky, and simply throw herself out.
Instead she stands up and walks over to the triage station.
"I think I need to be inside the doors," she says.
The nurse hands her a tissue. Friedmann hadn't even realised she was crying.
"If you could call it crying. It was as though my body simply released its load of grief, and the tears rolled sharp and salty down my face as if they would never stop."
Recent research suggests that one in five women who have given birth will experience perinatal depression. For Friedmann the experience was overwhelming. She hated herself, felt nothing for her son, hated how motherhood made her feel, how it now defined her.
"I used to think I was bulletproof," says Friedmann. "This made me realise I'm anything but."
We're drinking coffee in Braddon. It's hard to believe this woman has ever been to the dark place that so many mothers have. She's trim, her lipstick is perfect, she's intelligent, sparkling and quiet at the same time. Her book Things That Helped is the same. Her words controlled yet languid, her descriptions of those dark corners painful yet they wash over you and soothe. Reading it you think, I am not alone.
We're talking about the book, a collection of essays about her journey through postpartum depression, heart wrenching stories that touch on motherhood, creativity, and mental illness, on love and art and friendship.
But it soon becomes apparent we're talking about much more than the book.
"Women don't speak of this enough," says Friedmann.
"Women aren't meant to complain, they're meant to have a higher pain threshold. From the time we start menstruating we're told to tough it out, to put a wheat pack on our bellies, we'll be fine, go ride a horse, do cartwheels on the beach. Who are they kidding?
"It's the same sort of thing with motherhood, this idea of you asked for this, you wanted to take it on, how dare you speak about not coping with it all."
Friedmann, 30, a writer and editor, now living in Canberra, wants women to have that conversation. And if publicity for the book allows her to do that, that's an opportunity she'll take.
"There are an estimated 100,000 Australian women going through something similar and not receiving any media attention around their circumstances at all.
"It makes me so cross so many women are going through this with no support. It should be easy, you should be able to go to the hospital and say I need help and they should be adequately equipped to help.
"Can you imagine being turned away from chemotherapy because a hospital doesn't have enough beds? It wouldn't happen.
"You shouldn't have to be suicidal. Mental illness can snowball so quickly, so if you're at home and feeling isolated and need some help, that is enough, you should be able to get it."
While she doesn't consider herself an activist, Friedmann has just taken on an ambassador role with PANDSI, the ACT's support service for families experiencing perinatal depression or anxiety.
"I'm really thrilled to be working with PANDSI, as community support for new parents is so vital - a phone call with a counsellor, or a support group with childcare provided, can be the difference between complete isolation and the beginnings of recovery.
"In a political climate in which early intervention services, such as antenatal screening, are being quietly defunded, the work that they do is more crucial than ever."
Owen is five now. He brings Friedmann joy everyday. Therapy, anti-depressants, support from her family, the solid love of her husband Mike, have helped with the recovery. Writing the book too has somewhat reconciled those dark times.
"Being able to resuscitate those years and give them some sort of meaning and purpose has really put me at rest with the idea of what I went through.
"When Owen was a very young baby there was a lack of real connection but now he'll come in and snuggle with me in bed of a morning and we'll really have a chat, he'll invite me into his little games.
"It's that connection, being involved in his dreams and stories. That's what matters now."
Things That Helped, by Jessica Friedmann. Scribe Publishing. $29.99.
If you need help contact PANDSI on 6288 1936 or PANDA on 1300 726 306 or Lifeline on 131114.
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