“Everyone wants to hold the baby, who will hold the mother?”

This article, excellently written by Samantha Herbst, highlights the silent, isolating struggle mothers face on a daily basis: the reality that motherhood isn’t only “wonderful and a blessing and beautiful”. It is also hard and tiring and ugly and frustrating and isolating at times. Motherhood does not only involve meeting the needs of another around the clock (at the expense of our own I might add), but it also confronts us with our own unhealed wounds, right in the middle of an identity crisis where we mourn the loss of our pre-pregnancy identity. The perfect storm. Be gentle with yourself. Do the inner work. Show kindness and care and consideration. Be aware and conscious and reach out when you need it.

Opinion | Who is behind the Dickason child killings? We are, South Africa

Social media is on fire as some condemn 40-year-old South African expat and mother Lauren Dickason to worse than the fiery pits of hell. “What kind of a mother!?” they cry. “What kind of a monster would strangle her children with cable ties, watching the life drain from each of their terrified faces, not once but three times over?”

Lauren Dickason has been cast off as possessed, a demon. Fists shaking, eyes bulging and angry emojis abounding, many South Africans are calling for this woman’s blood. They want to see her suffer.

Here, empathy is a very fine line between condemnation and justification. It’s at this juncture that we can either join the ranks of condemners or dare to look down the precipice and really consider what happened in the Dickason household last Thursday night. What were the contributing factors that set this unimaginable tragedy in motion?

As a mother and parenting journalist, much of my professional circle comprises parenting experts, maternal health and motherhood advocates, as well as mental health professionals. All mothers themselves, none of this circle were surprised at what transpired in Timaru, New Zealand that night. We were all unnerved, to be sure. ­Sickened, saddened, angry maybe, but not surprised.

It is not an anomaly.

Experts in the perinatal space can attest to the hordes of South African mothers currently navigating their own unlivable reality. A reality that might set in motion a mode of events similar to what transpired in the Dickason home.

Unfortunately, it is not an anomaly. Just this week, News24 reported on several cases of filicide that happened on home soil in the last few months.

What kind of a mother murders her own children? And, in Lauren Dickason’s case, what kind of a mother does so after facing years of infertility, paying tens (if not hundreds) of thousands of rands to experience the miracle of becoming a mother? For many, nothing adds up except sheer demonism.

But for me, the truth is multifaceted and might vary one from one extreme theory to another, and definitely from one mother to the next.

In South Africa, the truth could be this:

What kind of a mother does this?

* Any kind of mother whose mental health went unchecked pre- and postpartum.

* Any kind of mother expected to smile post birth trauma – be it vaginal or C-section – and be happy and grateful at all times for her child with zero validation of the trauma she underwent.

* Any kind of mother operating on less sleep than sleep deprivation torture detainees at Guantanamo Bay. This is not a joke.

* Any kind of mother expected to parent in a society where the division of labour falls squarely on her shoulders, even in the most liberal and egalitarian households.

* Any kind of mother raising children in a nation that largely suffers from unaffirmed and undiagnosed PTSD as a result of rampant violent crime threatening our families’ safety.

* Any kind of mother parenting in a nation where gender-based violence ranks among the highest in the world (with a femicide rate five times the global average).

* Any kind of mother parenting in an unprecedented pandemic, leaving parents with zero certainty that the decisions they’ve made on behalf of their families were the right ones.

* Any kind of mother who feels forced to leave her home country and family, denying country and countrymen to take root in a foreign land.

* Any kind of mother operating in a toxically positive landscape that looks at gratitude as a heal-all, with no affirmation of the many hardships that accompany big blessings.

The real question for me is not, “What kind of a mother does this to her children?” Rather it’s, “What kind of a society does this to its mothers?”

We can take responsibility.

I come from a place of privilege, and still my post-birth medical check ups at a private institution excluded mental health (despite me having a history of generalised anxiety disorder). One week post-birth and six weeks later, my doctor checked my vagina and scar only, speaking at length about my birth control options. And there ended my postpartum healthcare. Everyone else in my life – personal and professional – were largely concerned with the baby.

No-one advocated for me. I advocated for myself. I picked up the phone and called my therapist. But I was prepared. My mental health was on my radar and I had broken free from the damning and unrealistic expectations that society imposes on mothers. I could advocate for myself, but few mothers in South Africa have that privilege.

This is true in a landscape that aligns needing help with failure as a mother. It’s true in a society that refuses to acknowledge the duality in motherhood. And its especially true for single or lone mothers living below the bread line.

We can all hazard a guess at what transpired in the Dickason home that Thursday night. We can all write it off as a once-off tragedy that occurred as a result of a sick mind. We can all tut-tut at the sadness of it and carry on with our lives.

Or, we can ruminate on this. We can swirl it about, taste the bitterness of it and properly ingest it. Own it. We can take responsibility for it. We can heed it as a warning and a call to action. We can ask the right questions and move towards putting plans and policies in place to ensure that no mother in South Africa gives birth and raises a family without stringent mental health checks. We can talk about our own experiences.

The last straw.

There are many assumptions and allegations that accompany the questions surrounding the Dickason murders. What was the proverbial last straw here? Was it the stress of the pandemic compounded by emigration? Was it the two weeks of prison-like conditions as the family waited out their managed isolation and quarantine? Was there family dysfunction at play?

Most assume that Lauren Dickason suffered a psychotic episode. It’s the theory that holds the most water for those looking for answers. The details of the Dickason murders align strongly with the Yates killings of 2001.

After years of battling with her mental health, mother-of-five Andrea Yates drowned her children in the bathtub one by one, believing that Satan was inside her and had damaged her children. Postpartum psychosis is often indicated by delusions or strange beliefs (sometimes linked to religion), as well as hallucinations.

“This is me.”

Sounds like an uncommon occurrence, right? Until we all start talking.

Since I opened up about my own brush with postpartum psychosis, other mothers in my circle have admitted to experiencing something similar. The more I talk about the postpartum identity crisis, anxiety and depression, intrusive thoughts and the dire state of motherhood in South Africa, the more women around me whisper, “This is me.”

The act of killing – or wanting to kill – our own children should never be excused or normalised. But what about the red flags that pave the way to tragedy? The more we as mothers talk about our darkest and most shameful experiences, the more we see that we are not alone and the better the chance at intervention before tragedy strikes.

Maternal mental health advocate and lactation therapist Jabina Coleman wrote, “Everyone wants to hold the baby, who will hold the mother?” It’s a question that’s stuck with me in early motherhood and it’s one that I hope sticks with you.

We did this, South Africa.

We are doing this, to our mothers and, by proxy, to our children. Mothers are incorrectly perceived to be superheroes who have infinite patience, infinite strength, infinite healing capabilities and the odds are stacked against us. But the broadest shoulders always bear the heaviest burden.

We need to hold our mothers or it will be at the cost of our children.

Find support.

If you suspect you might need help, or you know someone who is struggling, immediately contact the following organisations for advice and support:

The South African Depression and Anxiety Group (SADAG): 011 234 4837

SADAG has a WhatsApp counselling line that operates from 9am to 4pm: 076 882 2775

Gauteng Mental Health Society: 011 984 4038

SA Federation For Mental Health: 011 781 1852