Clare Hampson (25) works as a shop assistant and lives with her parents in Belfast. After giving birth to her son Charlie Caleb (3) she sank into a postnatal depression that left her feeling suicidal. She says:

Having depression is a really lonely place. For two years I felt like I was putting on a mask every time I went outside and it got so tiring having to pretend everything was all right. One day I felt myself getting more and more frustrated at Charlie Caleb and I really shouted at him. It was a terrible scream and I scared myself. I would never have harmed him but I found myself thinking 'what am I doing? He's just a wee baby'.

I gave birth to my son on December 10, 2003. When I found out I was pregnant my first reaction was disbelief. I was being treated for a chest infection but a visit to the doctor revealed I was 35 weeks' pregnant. It was a shock but I never felt like it was the end of the world. The birth wasn't too bad but afterwards there was a real build- up of emotions and from the first week, I just felt he wasn't mine.

At first I put it down to baby blues. I felt like I was on auto-pilot. I'd get up and get Charlie Caleb up, dressed and fed. I always made sure he was cared for but inside I had an irrational fear that he was going to be taken from me because he was someone else's.

I felt very tired and weepy and often very frustrated. It wasn't directed at him but the sound of his crying would frustrate me and I felt I couldn't get things done. I would look at other people and think if they were able to get their washing done, have a clean house, do the ironing and look after themselves, why couldn't I?

I over-compensated by buying Charlie Caleb things and always dressing him in clean clothes. I didn't want people to think I was a bad mummy. I became obsessed with washing him and would re-iron clothes because I'd decided they weren't good enough. I also felt like I had to do certain things at certain times of the day. At 9.30am I had to leave the house even if I had nowhere to go - I was constantly scared someone was going to take him away.

I went through 13 prams just walking. I remember going to Stormont Park once. I was wearing white trousers and had made a real effort that day to get dressed nicely. But I walked so much my feet started to bleed and the blood soaked into the trousers without me even noticing.

I couldn't motivate myself to get washed. My hair would have been a big thing for me and I always had it cut and coloured but I didn't even want to go and do that. I just survived in baseball caps. I never neglected Charlie Caleb but I did neglect myself.

After that day when I shouted at him I went to see a GP. I hadn't seen one in seven months and I'd never had the Edinburgh scale (the scale used to assess postnatal depression) done. I worried people would say it was all in my head and I should just pull myself together. But it got to the point where I was starting to wonder if he would be better off without me. I did think about suicide but what stopped me was knowing how close I am to my mum and the thought of what it would do to her and my dad, and the idea of my son growing up without his mum.

I went to the GP and was diagnosed with postnatal depression. I was put on antidepressants and got in touch with a postnatal support group. It was a good help but only ran for 10 weeks so I got on the internet to try and find out ways to help myself.

Shankill Women's Centre has a light box and I found using it made me feel better. I started going to their 'me time', doing meditation, hopi candle therapy and hot stones. Even just sitting down with a cup of tea and talking about normal things helped. When I started to feel a bit better I spoke to the education manager in the centre about doing a counselling course and since then I've done several qualifications in counselling and child behaviour.

Last March I had to go back to work. I didn't feel ready but I'm doing 16 hours a week. Sometimes when I'm feeling really low I do have the same fear that Charlie Caleb is going to be taken away. And I do worry about having another child. I have a contraceptive implant and, although I've always loved children, to have had suicidal thoughts and come so close as I did has made me think that Charlie will be my one and only.

In my darkest days I really didn't think there was a light at the end of the tunnel but a big milestone for me was when he graduated from toddlers to nursery. I'd told my mum I'd never see him go to nursery because I couldn't imagine letting him be apart from me. But just recently he took part in the wee graduation service they have to mark the move up to nursery. Seeing him in his cap and gown and wee cashmere sweater was very emotional. It probably sounds silly to a lot of people but it was the proudest day of my life and made me realise I was going to be ok.

I'm not naive, I don't think everything's going to be rosy but it's easier to think of a future now for him and see myself in it. I reduced my dosage of medication recently but I wasn't ready and even my mum noticed I was more lethargic and snappy. I thought I was ready but I still need that wee bit of chemical. I find it very hard to read about other people having postnatal depression because I go through the emotions again. Also I think some celebrities are jumping on the bandwagon.

I read an article in which Nell McAndrew said she'd had postnatal depression and it just didn't relate to my experience at all. To me, it sounded more like baby blues, but then everyone is different. The experiences of Suzanne Shaw and Louise Redknapp sounded more familiar to me.

But it helps to know that other people right across society might feel the same way.

I feel like I've lost years and I live with the guilt that I missed the first years of my son's life. I know it was not my fault but I still feel guilty. It took me two years to bond with my son but now when I hear the word 'mummy' it was all worth it."

Claire Allan (31) lives in Londonderry with her husband Neil (36). After having her son Joseph (4), She drew on her own experience of postnatal depression when writing her novel Rainy Days And Tuesdays. She says:

One in 10 women suffers from postnatal depression - that's an awful lot of people but for some reason it seems to be swept under the carpet a wee bit and I don't know why that is. How can there be a stigma attached to something that is just a chemical imbalance in the brain? It's crazy that women beat themselves up over it.

My wee man is four. I had a really long labour with him - 26 hours - and I remember when he was born and handed to me I didn't have that 'oh my God, this is my child' moment, all I thought was 'thank God that's over'.

I have a great job and planned the perfect life. I'd got married, had a nice house and for me the next logical step was having a baby. I got the right bottles, the clothes from Next and I just assumed I would feel that bond of love immediately. But it didn't happen until he was about six months old. Friends and family sort of saw me as 'Robomum'. Even before the diagnosis they would have known I wasn't right. I did everything that needed done, but in a complete daze. I neglected my own appearance totally and my uniform became tracksuit bottoms and baby sick stained T-shirts. I just didn't care, I didn't see any point in getting dressed up. I didn't see myself as a woman, just a mummy machine.

When I went back to work after six months it got worse. I was a really obsessive mother, having to leave work to pick up the baby, bath him, put him to bed by 7pm and then spend hours doing his bottles. I was exhausted and breaking down in tears over any little thing. One day I met a friend for lunch and cried the whole time. She was a GP and said I should go and talk to somebody. I went to my GP, was put on antidepressants and signed off for a month.

It was difficult to accept I had postnatal depression - putting a label on it was very hard but after a lot of rest I started to enjoy my time with Joseph and settled into a routine.

I realised I didn't have to be perfect. Then I read Brooke Shields' book on postnatal depression and I felt able to write about my own experience in a column I write for the Derry Journal. It was very cathartic and when I wrote the book and it got the great response it did, it encouraged me to talk about my experience and be more open - especially if it can help other women.

There is so much pressure and I know everybody blames celebrity mums, but when you see them out pushing a pram, smiling and telling everybody that 'this is the best thing that's ever happened to me' it's pressure you don't need. Women feel guilty because there's an assumption that motherhood is supposed to be the happiest time of your life. But it can be a really tough time.

I'm still on antidepressants - I think it is something that will always be with me. A lot of women come off them very successfully but when I've tried it's not necessarily gone the best way. But if I was a diabetic I would take insulin the rest of my life and it wouldn't bother me.

I'm also now involved in backing Aware Defeat Depression's Mother's Day campaign to raise awareness of just how common postnatal depression is.

My biggest piece of advice to women is to throw away the guides that say how to be a mother - trust yourself, there is no one way. Also talk to people - your GP, your mummy, your sister, Aware - you don't need to be ashamed if motherhood isn't what you thought it would be."


For more information or help with postnatal depression contact Aware at www.aware-ni.org.uk