When her first child was born, playwright-actor Katie Louisa Morgan found herself feeding at the window of a small first-floor flat, staring at a homeless man who sat on the wall outside - day and night - for a month.
That unsettling presence, combined with close friends’ experiences of severe postnatal depression and her own miscarriage, became the spark for
Fox, a one-woman play that’s now opening conversations many women say they’ve never felt able to have.
We spoke to Katie about how her experience as a new mother and her play
Fox are helping to open up vital conversations around postnatal mental health and loss.
Why did you write the play?
A: Inthe new born haze, I was often stuck in one spot in my flat feeding and thinking, “This is really intense.” A man started sitting on the wall outside our flat - all day, sleeping there at night - for a month. I became curious about him, suspicious of him, worried for him. I was dealing with all the hormones and the feelings of being a mum, and I wanted to help him, to chat to him - but on the other hand, I wanted him to go away. He could see my every move.
At the same time, several close friends who’d had “textbook” pregnancies began struggling with severe postnatal depression and anxiety. It made me realise how isolated new mums are and how little we talk about the serious end of postnatal mental health.
What did your friends’ experiences reveal to you?
A: One friend’s mum emailed a small group of us asking us to check in - her daughter was really unwell, and her mum lived in a different city. My friend had no mental-health history; it blindsided everyone. Then I noticed anxiety and depression in other friends too, far beyond the “baby blues.” Many didn’t recognise what was happening or were afraid to say, “I’m not coping.”
Why don’t women ask for help?
A: Two big reasons kept coming up in my research for the play. First, perfection pressure - feeling you must be the “good” mother who’s coping. Second, fear - that admitting you’re struggling could mean your baby is going to be taken away. Add social media’s polished version of motherhood and it’s crushing; women compare themselves to an edited fantasy and feel they’re failing.
How did audiences respond?
A: We partnered with the maternal-health charity Cocoon Family Support and did baby-friendly shows (up to age one), then stayed for post-show chats. Every time, it started tentatively - then one honest story opened the floodgates. Women said, “You’ve written what’s in my head.”
That told me the play is more than just my initial goal to showcase my writing and acting; it’s a catalyst for connection.
What about support from health services?
A: Health visitors can be a crucial first line, but many women told me they felt dismissed or rushed. One said she told a visitor, “I’m not coping,” and got a polite laugh and a quick exit. Another told me she was crying, and the health visitor said to her, “Right, we don't want any of that next time, because you don't want anyone to think you’re not coping!”
I was lucky, my health visitor was lovely, but others haven’t been so fortunate. And of course, NHS maternal services are so severely underfunded.
Did your friend recover?
A: She eventually needed hospital care, but with support, medication, and therapy, she recovered - she’s now co-producing the show and is open about her journey. That’s really what the play is about: you can get better, but you shouldn’t have to do it alone.
What signs should friends and family watch for?
A: Withdrawal, flat affect, persistent tearfulness beyond two weeks, inability to sleep even when the baby sleeps, intrusive thoughts, not eating or washing, intense anxiety about leaving the house or the baby.
If you’re worried, show up, sit alongside, and help connect her to support.
You also speak about miscarriage in the play. Why include your own?
A: I had a miscarriage before my daughter. No one talked about miscarriages at all, and it felt like something more than that - it felt like people were purposefully not talking about it because it was a kind of taboo.
Talking helped me - and when I opened up, so many people said, “Me too,” but had never shared it.
Including my experience felt important to validate others and to say, plainly, that
loss at any stage is huge; naming it helps.
What do you hope audiences takeaway?
A: That asking for help is strength. That postnatal mental-health struggles and miscarriage are common, real, and deserving of care. And that community - from health visitors to friends checking in - changes outcomes.
Asking for help isn’t failure - it’s how recovery starts.
Fox reminds us that art can say what so many of us can’t, and that healing begins the moment someone dares to speak first. At
After Birth London, we believe those conversations can change lives.
If you’re struggling now:
Contact your GP, health visitor, NHS 111, or
Samaritans (116 123, free).
In an emergency, call 999.
Charity support:
Cocoon Family Support
PANDAS Foundation
The Miscarriage Association
Tommy’s