by Ruth Naughton-Doe – Research Associate
In June 2021, I became a mother for the first time. I always suspected I might experience postnatal depression, but nothing prepared me for what I experienced: antenatal and postnatal anxiety, and an all-consuming sense of loneliness. Once diagnosed at 9 weeks postpartum, I was fortunate to have the support and resources to make a complete recovery. I emerged at the other end, not just surviving, but thriving and flourishing.
Following returning to work as a Research Associate at the University of York, I applied for a Postdoctoral Fellowship with the NIHR Three Schools Mental Health Research Programme. Bringing together my research expertise in loneliness experienced by older people, and my lived experience, my application to co-produce solutions to perinatal loneliness was accepted.
A key element of my Fellowship was developing my identity and approach to lived-experience work. My experience of mental illness during the perinatal period was not my first rodeo with poor mental health. Yet, this was the first time I was researching something that I had direct experience of. The post-traumatic growth I experienced following my perinatal illness, and the resilience, strength and confidence that bloomed through motherhood, awoke a desire to ‘out myself’ as having lifelong lived experience of mental illness. It now felt uncomfortable keeping that core part of myself hidden, especially as I deeply value lived experience.
Recognising the challenges ahead, my Fellowship included supervision to support this transition from the McPin Foundation, a lived experience organisation. Helpful advice included:
- Develop a script of what you feel comfortable to share should anyone ask you about your lived experience, so that you are not caught off guard and share more than you wanted.
- Engage in regular reflection with others to reduce personal bias in your work.
- Have regular supervision if researching personally triggering topics.
All these tips were valuable, but the story I wish to share relates to point number two. It was the part of my journey that surprised me the most.
I was very concerned about projecting my own experiences of loneliness onto research participants rather than hearing their stories. I actively tried very hard not to do this. After my first round of data analysis, I presented my findings about risk factors for perinatal loneliness to the Research Advisory Group. They shared feedback that some things were missing: sleep difficulties, childhood trauma, and being a professional woman. I had an uncomfortable realisation: an unintended consequence of my strategy to limit personal bias in my research was that I had removed the elements of my participants’ experiences that resembled my own.
Interestingly, this mirrored a process enacted by some of the research participants (and me) when they felt lonely. They minimised their struggles and told themselves their difficulties were not worthy of support. There were always others who needed the help more. They masked their feelings. They didn’t ask for help.
My experiences of becoming a lived-experience researcher surprised me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Whilst challenging at times, I found the process hugely valuable and healing. I was (and remain so) highly motivated to improve support for parents in the future, and that passion is driven by my lived experience. I have also realised that more so than ever before, the success of my work relies on me sharing and listening to others. I feel much more open to criticism, and less lonely in my research.
For more information about the findings of this research: www.perinatal-loneliness.com
