Lindsay Clancy and the future that could have been

In another world there is healing.

This post is about Lindsay Clancy. You don’t have to read it. It’s OK to just choose not to read about this topic because it’s too close to home, or it’s too hard, or it just hurts too much. It’s a good thing to recognise when your heart can’t take more awful news. This post does not include any detail about the deaths of Lindsay’s children. It is not graphic in any way. It may not be what people wanted from me, but it was where I wanted to put the profound pain I feel for Lindsay and her three babies and their loved ones.

I wanted to imagine another world. A world where we understand mental illness, where there is no stigma, where help is truly available.

But I am tired, I'm so tired, of this world we live in that does not take the mental health of mothers seriously. I am tired of writing the same stories. I'm tired of the same tragedies happening again, and again, and again.

Arohanui, Emily.

Lindsay Clancy carefully places chairs in a circle. She places little spoons in a bowl and puts out tea and coffee. Soon, the room will be full of mothers but she likes this moment before they all come in.

30 prescriptions for 13 psychiatric medications.

Two years ago Lindsay finished treatment for post-natal psychosis. She knows how close she came to losing everything because the system was so utterly broken. Every day she thinks about how her survival depended on others doing the right thing.

Three years ago, she was given 30 prescriptions for 13 psychiatric medications. Today, she takes anti-anxiety medication, but mostly ocean swims and running help her to feel healthy and whole.

She gets an alert on her phone from the school her eldest children Cora, 8, and Dawson, 6, attend - it's a reminder about Book Week. Lindsay has been reading The Borrowers to them. Cora wants to be Arrietty and Dawson wants to be Pod. Lindsay has been working on their costumes, and the kids love them.

Little Callan, 3, wants to dress up despite his daycare not having Book Week so she made him a sweet little outfit too. Lindsay smiles at the thought.

She loves her life. She has always been a carer. She began her career as a labour and delivery nurse. She loves life. She loves mothers. Returning to work after she recovered felt like the most natural thing in the world.

And she loved it. She loved witnessing the birth of mothers. She loved meeting their babies, so new and miraculous. But she also knew that after these mothers left this sacred room, they might return to homes where danger waited. Their minds might become their enemies, too. They might try and try to get help but be turned away at every door.

She knew, she knew she must try to help these women as she was once helped. She knew she was just one person, one mother. But her life had meaning and so did theirs. If she saved one life, it would make a difference.

And here she was. One year of running support groups for new mothers. It had been exhausting being a single mother to three while creating the scaffolding needed to care for these mothers. She'd worked on systems with every level of her hospital's administration to ensure no mother would fall through the cracks again.

And of course, she had the support groups. Here, she'd tell her story. She'd talk about the thoughts she had that terrified her. She'd talk about the fear she had admitting these thoughts to medical professionals. But then she'd talk about the help she was given.

She'd talk about the clearing of her mind, how one bright and beautiful day she'd been able to smile again. And slowly the impulsive, painful, scary thoughts began to dissolve like dishwashing liquid in the sink.

She would say and here I am. With you.

The mothers found Lindsay endlessly inspiring. Few mothers never returned to group even after they'd 'graduated,' so to speak. They'd often visit just to hold another mother's hand. They'd donate $5 here or there to buy the good chocolate biscuits.

They were a community. They were there for each other, they knew each other's children, they knew each other's hearts.

Lindsay often missed the group as she toured her region speaking to psychologists and hospital triage staff about how to recognise post-natal psychosis. So many times, doctors had told her she had saved lives. When she couldn't lead group, others were always ready to step in.

There's a gentle tap on the door, and Lindsay looks at her watch; the group doesn't start for half an hour. She sees a mum with a baby on her hip, her face red and tear-stained, and she immediately pulls her into an embrace.

She tells the mother she's in a safe place. That she can talk about anything at all, she's safe, safe. Safe.

“I sometimes think of hurting my baby,” the new mum whispers. And Lindsay holds her hand gently. “I’ve been there. There is a way through, and you’re going to make it, just like I did.”

Lauren explains how wanting to hurt your babies is common when you’re very, very unwell. It’s a sign you’re very unwell. It’s a sign you need help. And here in Duxbury, Massachusetts, you have help. Here, we take mothers' mental health seriously. And there’s so much help.

We have maternal mental health supports in place right up until five years old, because we recognise that post-natal mental health disorders can repeat and continue throughout a new mother’s life. We know sleep deprivation can make them worse and make them recur, so we don’t stop support after the first year.

There is a national screening process for peri- and post-natal depression, anxiety, and psychosis. It continues for the first three years of a child’s life, and can be extended to five years. Every birthing parent is screened periodically to ensure they have the support they need.

“In another world, maybe the worst would have happened to me and my children,” she says to the mother

“I can’t imagine it. But had I not had any help… I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

Lindsay Clancy is on trial for the murder of her three children in Massachusetts.

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