ISABELLE SILBERY: 'My mum encouraged me to go to a place where "mothers are mothered". It cost $5,000.'

I booked myself and my baby into a facility and now, I'm a new person.

But let's rewind a few weeks. 

My mental health after having our baby girl, Ruby, had been reasonably stable and motherhood was feeling beyond fulfilling. However, I started to notice that the bad days were creeping up on me. After six months of broken sleep and breastfeeding around the clock, it all started to feel overwhelming.

The bad days were really bad. All I wanted to do was tap out. I couldn't stop crying, I would get angry and catastrophise everything. I looked at my body and wished I had the time and energy to look after it. I hated the changes so much that I sent enquiries to plastic surgeons. I had no sex drive, which is unheard of for me. My memory was terrible, my back was killing me, I felt like I was letting everyone down, and then I would tell myself to shut up and be grateful.

That then caused a feeling of guilt, leading to self-hatred, and over-analysing all the problems in my marriage. My mind did not stop — I would lock myself in a dark room and go to sleep.

Thankfully my husband, my mother-in-law and mum totally got it and helped carry the load when I was clearly unable to.

One day, though, while Mum was folding the washing in our lounge room, she told me about a new postpartum care place she's heard about called Homb.

"I'm not acutely unwell, Mum, just having a bad patch," I told her.

It sounds defensive, but I didn't feel like I needed to be shipped off to some facility for mothers who aren't coping. 

"All mothers need rest, darling. I wish I had access to somewhere like that when I had you. Maybe then I wouldn't have suffered from postnatal depression so badly, if someone had just looked after me for a minute."

I knew Mum had struggled after having me but I never wanted to bring it up in the event it would make her feel bad. Although Mum and I can talk about anything, this was a topic that we hadn't ever properly touched on. Thirty-nine years later, here we were. Mum was ready to open up to me about her experience.

Everything she said was exactly how I was feeling. I felt sad for her, for me and for Ruby. After falling apart, Mum's GP sent her to a monastery (a bit like Nonatus House in Call the Midwife), where nuns took me away, told Mum to sleep and only brought me back to her to breastfeed.

"It was cold and clinical," she went on. "But I got to sleep."

Mum sat down with me on the couch and encouraged me to look at the website. A place where mothers are mothered.

The words hit me in the solar plexus. I watched their video. Holy moly, the tears flooded my eyeballs. I heard words I couldn't manage to say out loud. I saw myself. It was that moment I realised that I shouldn't have to be at absolute rock bottom to get help. I wanted to go to Homb.

Watch the video that rocked Isabelle Silbery to her core. Post continues below.

Walking in the front door, there was something about the energy in this stunningly renovated heritage house that felt incredibly soothing. Dim lights lit up the long hallway, chilled acoustic music bounced from wall to wall, and women's chatter echoed from the kitchen. The soft textures of the furniture in olive green and dusty pinks made me feel like I was in interior design heaven.

There have to be positive psychological effects on the brain from the specific use of colour and texture, because I felt myself instantly relax. It was calm and feminine, like being in a cocoon. I let go for the first time in years, surrendering to what felt like a warm hug. 

I'd arrived at a place where I felt I could crumble into a million pieces and know that I would be held and put back together again.

The first few hours felt really foreign. I kept automatically doing stuff — putting my glass in the dishwasher, taking dirty clothes to the laundry, picking up crumbs after meal times. Weirdly, I heard the words, "Just leave it, Izz." Where was I? Motherhood heaven surrounded by angels? Without those things to be 'done', what was I supposed to be doing?

Turns out, for four days, I rested.

I had long baths uninterrupted and ate nourishing food. Cups of tea appeared on my bedside table and my bed was made, snacks left for me, all without me asking. I had naps in my big cloud of a bed knowing my Ruby girl was happily being looked after. 

The foreign feeling of not having to be anywhere, not having to do anything but just be in my body soon became guilt-free. I bloody needed this. All mothers need this. Homb has nailed it. We need to be mothered sometimes, and that's okay.

"My stay was everything I needed. I just wish all mothers had access to the same." Image: Supplied.

I did soft Pilates, moving my body in ways it had been yearning to since giving birth. In the bath, I caught myself tensing, hearing those phantom baby cries — but I reassured myself that Ruby was safe with the midwives. I looked in the mirror and actually took a long moment instead of rushing to dry off.

There she was… my body. My wobbly tummy where Ruby lived for nine months. I touched my stretch marks over my hips where they had widened to bring her safely into the world. I looked over the bumps of cellulite on my thighs and I felt my prolapse — a reminder of just how traumatic a vaginal birth can be and that I need to stay on top of my exercises.

My boobs were full of milk, the boobs that had been keeping Ruby alive and setting up her immune system for the rest of her life. I liked these boobs. My skin was smooth from the hormones, my face clear of blemishes. I looked rested and flushed with colour. I'd arrived at feeling forgiving, non-judgmental and in awe of my body.

As well as the bathroom, magic also happened in the kitchen. Impromptu chats with other mothers and the beautiful staff about all of the things. It was like one continual therapy session with laughter, tears, sharing our annoyances about our husbands, and was a space where I could just be me, in PJs all day.

There is something to be said about the power of female energy. Women sharing their experiences. The Village. A few days ago these women were complete strangers but now it felt natural and safe to divulge my deepest stuff.

I started to think about how our suburban environments can be isolating. Some mothers are cooped up at home with their babies and minimal places to go and hang out with other women. Let alone be looked after! It's no wonder that one in five women experiences anxiety and/or depression in the perinatal period, according to PANDA.

We put so much emphasis and money into the pregnancy and birth of a baby. Obstetrician fees, prams, designing the perfect nursery, all before they're even born. But where is the focus on postnatal care? Yes, we have our maternal healthcare check-ups, but surely we need more?

This stay was costing me money, with no Medicare rebate.

The week's stay was all-inclusive at $5,000. It included 24-hour care, a room with an ensuite, all meals, nappies and wipes, Pilates, massage, a lactation consultant, birth trauma therapy — you name it.

I'm extremely privileged to have been able to afford it, but I started to feel angry at the fact that our healthcare system doesn't value a mother's postpartum recovery.

Why wasn't this available for all women, no matter their socioeconomic background? We should all have equal access to these services. If the government invested in this type of preventative care for women's health, mightn't this help minimise mothers developing PND in the long run?

I discovered that Homb has gone outside the parameters of our health care system to make the care accessible by creating a charity arm. This means people can donate money that directly supports women needing care who can't afford it but need it desperately. This is female entrepreneurship, philanthropy and kickass leadership at its absolute finest.

I left feeling inspired, hopeful, rested and less annoyed with my husband. We even got to have a date night during my stay. I reconnected with him, with myself, with my mind and my body. 

If you ask any new mother if they would prefer gifts of onesies, baby blankets, muslin wraps or a few nights of respite with 24-hour care for her and her baby — I think we all know what the answer would be.

Feature Image: Instagram @isabellesilbery.

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