"Birth was supposed to be amazing, exhilarating and wondrous - not for me."

[MumsnetGuestPosts]

My son was ripped from my body in a blur of panic and white hot fear. He didn't cry, I'm told. His lip was cut in the hurry to bring him into the world; a common occurrence, I'm told. He was resuscitated, life forced into his lungs before his screams filled the room, I'm told. And while my baby boy was making his grand arrival into the world, I was sleeping. Finally rid of the pain, fear and terror. Finally resting, blissfully unaware that I was a mother once more. Finally quiet, and alone once more.

It wasn't the entrance into the world that I had envisaged for my second born. Birth was supposed to be joyous. Birth was supposed to be happy. Birth was supposed to be amazing, exhilarating and wondrous! Not for me. I was sleeping as he was born. I was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake up.

The hours after my son was born spiral around in my mind like fragmented pieces of someone else's story. The baby they handed to me was wrapped in a scratchy blue blanket and his skin was scrubbed and pink. He had a name and he was waiting for his first feed. He was waiting for me, but he surely wasn't my baby. I felt nothing. Blank. Empty. Hollow. I felt nothing. And yet, he was my son. He really was. And I was to care for him, whether I liked it or not, and so I switched on to auto pilot and I made myself be his mother.

Those hours on the postnatal ward were mixed. My son's first night was filled with screams (his) and sobs (mine) and yet I saw nobody but a poor, very lovely, student midwife. She helped me to prop the cot up to stop my baby's strangled chokes but she couldn't stay with me and so I spent those hours in between her visits convinced that he was going to die after all. Waiting for the inevitable. On the second night, I wobbled down to the hall for a shower and the relief I felt at leaving him behind was immense.

The first shower after a c-section is always awkward at best, and horrific at worst. Strangely, the cannula in my hand was the focus of my intense frustration and anger, and as the hot water jets struck it like needles I allowed the sobs to take over my body. I don't think I've ever felt more alone than I did right then. I wanted to stay locked in that bathroom but I knew that the pain radiating from every pore of my body would eventually force me back onto the ward.

I don't remember speaking to many people. I had visitors, but they were there for the baby and not for me. I didn't want anyone to see me and I couldn't understand why they were trooping in with cards and presents and smiles and hugs. I couldn't understand why they were all celebrating.

The second night on the ward was spent in a haze of pain and tears. This baby wasn't the same as his sister; this one cried a lot and seemed to be in pain. A little ball of red hot anger. The midwives had little time for me, and I was told that every baby had a bad night - this was my turn.

And as the sun began to rise on day three, my two-day-old son and I were discharged from the hospital - much to my surprise. I was nowhere near ready to leave. I was utterly terrified at the thought of having to go home with this baby. I was petrified of being alone with him. I was shaking at the idea of being a real mum to him. Despite the noise, the heat and the bloody sheets, I wanted to stay in the hospital with life suspended for a little while longer. I didn't want to accept that this was it now. This was life. I wanted to escape for longer. Or, failing that, I wanted to leave without my baby.

I actually contemplated walking out of there alone. And I wasn't sure anyone would stop me.

In the end, we were sent home that evening. We stepped out of the hospital and into the cold of December, forced to return to our lives and jumble everything together for a new normal. I was discharged with no pain relief, after being told that there was nothing I could take if I wanted to breastfeed my baby. I didn't want to breastfeed my baby! I'd done it because they told me to, held him to my breast because they said he was hungry. I was going through all the motions but I felt nothing at all.

At home, I stood before the mirror in my bedroom and wept. Who was that woman? A tattoo of bruises snaking from her neck to her knees. Two angry scars slashed across her belly. Weak, broken, battered. I want to hold her and tell her that she's going to be ok, eventually. I want to rage and scream and cry for her. I want to go back and change it all.

But I cannot change anything now. Mistakes were made and I am starting to make peace with that. I am learning that the way I reacted to my son's birth and the early days of his life wasn't abnormal after all. I am accepting of the fact that I was not well. I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, and I was in need of help. Help that I did not get. And I'm not alone.

Every year, up to 20,000 women go through a traumatic birth experience.* There is so much shame and guilt associated with birth trauma and too often women feel they are weak or abnormal for expressing their feelings. This has to stop! Health care providers need to be able to recognise when a woman is in need of support following her birth experience, and more needs to be done to give women the opportunity to speak out. I also believe that more needs to be done in the postnatal period.

The early days with your baby are so vitally important for bonding and establishing links between mother and child. After a traumatic birth it can be hard for women to feel a connection to their baby; it can be harder still to come to terms with being a mother when a baby is born under general anaesthetic. I know now that my reaction was not uncommon. What I needed back then was someone who understood. Someone who was able to spend some time listening to me, explaining what had happened and why. A birth reflections service is all well and good but some women are not able to ask for it. Health care providers need to recognise this and know when to offer additional support.

My son is almost eight years old. Six months ago I was given the official PTSD diagnosis. I've been through CBT therapy to try and find new ways to deal with the trauma of his birth and the early days of his life. Eight years is too long to wait. New mums need immediate support and help. New mums need compassion, kindness and respect. New mums need to know they are believed, they will be listened to and ultimately, they will be supported.

*Birth Trauma Association

Find out more about Birth Trauma Awareness Week and how Mumsnet is campaigning for Better Postnatal Care.

[Knope2020]

The staff that "cared" for me and my son should never have been let anywhere near vulnerable women and babies
I feel very fortunate that he survived and I am still relatively sane

[KH369]

This is so humbling to read.
I thought I had an awful birth - I hated every minute of pregnancy and labour, which left my son 6weeks premature with his and my life hanging in the balance. I hated the first two weeks of my son life because I felt like I had failed him for letting him arrive to soon, going over and over in my head that I shouldnt have tried to keep working til 38 weeks pregnant, I should have listened to everyone telling me to eat even though I never felt hungry. I am humbled by this because my son got better and within days I forgot my horror pregnancy and labour and forgot the guilt and just carried on being a mum. It saddens me to know that not all women can move on so easily xx

[notevernotnevernotnohow]

Birth was supposed to be amazing, exhilarating and wondrous

Says who? Who actually believes that shite? I've had several births, ranging from "not the worst" to "almost died and physically not capable of having children afterwards horror".

Never did I expect it to be exhilarating and wondrous. You're not helping by repeating this nonsense to others. Birth is hard and gory and excruciating. It's bloody and bruising and terrifying. We should be saying so instead of pretending its ever going to be a shiny happy smiley thing.

[Dickwad12]

I think there is a major gulf of how woman expect their birth to be & the reality of it. As pp have said there is an instagram rose tinted view of what it will be like which only happens to the lucky few. I think that's why there is somtimes a disconnect with the midwives, for example a first time mother who may just had the most horrific experience of her life can't understand why the midwives are ignoring her & acting like it's an everyday event. That's not to say that there aren't bad midwives & there does need to be much better after care.

Plus I don't think women talk about birth trauma enough, its hushed up. My mother is brutally honest & ive had a fair few operations so thought my pain threshold was high & knew what to expect. I did the yoga, hypnobirthing etc but when I was having back to back labour (no pain relief, as happened too quickly) I thought I was dying & what terrified me was that no one could help me/make it stop & I had to do it alone. And I would say my first labour was overall a good experience, ended up with a c section 2nd time & Jesus the pain of that for the first few days. AWFUL!

What you get after birth is joyous but the process to get to that point, nope.

[Knope2020]

I'm one of blessed few who didn't find birth that bad tbh (sorry) but the pre and post natal care leave so so much to be desired.
I felt so very very alone
The HV was a joke
I was treated - right up til ds1 was rushed back in with a strep infection - as a neurotic mother
I wasn't then but god knows I am now :(

[CoteDAzur]

"I know people with real ptsd believe me having a traumatic birth experience doesn't come close. Put it in the rear view mirror you have a longed for child fgs."

Some of us did actually get officially diagnosed PTSD from birth trauma.

Take your frankly embarrassing ignorance elsewhere.

[2014newme]

I'm sorry but to me a traumatic birth is one ever that results in death or injury to mum or baby. It's very undermining to people who have experienced stillbirth etc when mums with healthy babies complain about their births not being wondrous and even exhilarating.
Birth is tough.

[DioneTheDiabolist]

But this isn'the about you 2014, or how you think women should deal with whatever happened to them. This is about women who suffer from a diagnosed medical condition getting the help they need.

[2014newme]

My point is that part of the reason some women Re traumatised is because their expect are frankly ludicrous. If you expect a wondrous exhilarating birth then you are more likely to be disappointed than if your expectations are realistic. Believing childbirth is some kind of fairy tale does nobody any favours. I think the reason I didn't suffer traumatic afterwards was despite my very difficult birth is because I never had such notions and was grateful to have my babies at all. Less than perfect childbirth has been demonised to become a horrific trauma.

[Out2pasture]

The blogger shouldn't have described her anaesthetic as being "asleep" it's farther on that you realize she's had a c/s and not passed out exhausted with Demerol on board.

[CoteDAzur]

"I think the reason I didn't suffer traumatic afterwards was despite my very difficult birth is because I never had such notions and was grateful to have my babies at all. "

Fucking hilarious If you didn't get PTSD, it was probably that your birth wasn't a trauma. As in, you didn't bleed like a stuck pig and nearly died. Your baby didn't get stuck in there such that when she finally came out, her skull had a depressed ring where it was badly squeezed. You didn't get a huge episiotomy that cut through muscle, nerve, and God knows what else, such that your delicate parts looked like a bomb went off & give you exquisite pain for weeks thereafter.

You didn't get an infection nurses and doctors didn't listen to you about and you didn't have to beg for antibiotics that weren't prescribed for weeks while you cried into your pillow. Maybe you were not suffering so horribly that you couldn't even talk, forget about caring for your baby. Maybe you were lucky that ongoing pain from scar tissue didn't prevent you from having sex for 6 months after the birth.

Maybe all that didn't come flooding back when you found out that you are pregnant a second time. Maybe that was a joyous occasion for you and not a time when you couldn't sleep, couldn't stop crying.

Maybe you didn't cry buckets in front of the maternity psychologist so that you would be allowed a CS because the thought of another vaginal birth made you think of aborting your much-wanted baby with a sharp stick.

Count yourself lucky and don't pretend to know anything about what traumatic birth can be like

[theancientmarinader]

2014 I am ex-military with a dh that survived being blown up in the course of his service (after being given only a 20% chance of doing so). My (birth injury) brain damaged dd's God-father was medically evacuated from an operational theatre after an IED took out the military vehicle he was travelling in and killed the guy sitting next to him. If you want to play PTSD top-trumps, I'm up for it. And I can tell you that birth trauma can cause PTSD as real as any 'real' PTSD you may have in mind. The flash backs are the same. The inability to focus and concentrate are the same. The cause of the trauma may differ, but the after-effects are just as incapacitating.
You will no doubt be aware of the issues that arise if one tries to minimise or hide such mental health issues - headlines about poor mental health care and the work of Combat Stress and the like can help if not. Let's not get in the game of trying to minimise women's traumatic experiences. Most women who suffer birth trauma eventually seek medical help years later, having tried to carry on and ignore it, much like many military personnel, having been influenced by societal expectations of stiff upper lip, and a belief that they should be able to get over it, after all, they survived, didn't they?
No top trumps. Women who suffer birth trauma deserve treatment, in the same way as anyone else suffering long term consequences after any traumatic event.

[2014newme]

Totally agree. My point is though that unrealistic birth expectations don't help. When we admit birth is dangerous and difficult and not perhaps as wondrous as people would like then progress will have been made.
T
And thanks, yes my premature twin births were difficult hence me needing a further operation and being in hospital for a month, wired up to a machine for several weeks blah blah. Yes I did get an infection yes the nurses did not listen to me etc. It's not a competition though. I did not suffer lasting trauma although it was hard at the time

[CoteDAzur]

"I did not suffer lasting trauma"

Here, have a You are clearly strong while we are weak

[Fabsmum]

Don't want to hijack your thread OP, but just wanted to balance out the many 'birth is intrinsically unpredictable, hideous, appallingly painful and dangerous' posts here, with a nod to the stats, just in case there's someone who's pregnant reading this and starting to feel panicky about the likelihood of having something awful happen to them in labour - the stats for low risk mums having a second or subsequent baby are as follows:

Out of 1000 who chose a free standing birth centre or home as their setting for birth, 984 had a straightforward vaginal birth and 960 didn't find it so painful they chose to transfer in for an epidural.

So I think it's reasonable to say that if you're low risk, and this is your second or subsequent baby, you're overwhelmingly likely to have a straightforward vaginal birth.

I appreciate that doesn't necessarily mean you won't find the birth very difficult, but it does suggest that most births for this category of women aren't scary and dangerous.

For low risk mums choosing these settings for the birth of their first baby - well 4 out of 5 will have a birth which doesn't involve instruments, surgery, need for an epidural, etc.

So going on that it'd be fair to say - if you're low risk and you choose a low tech setting for birth, the likelihood is that you'll have a straightforward birth and not need an epidural.

Those figures come from the NICE guidelines on choosing place of birth if anyone's interested: NICE

[theancientmarinader]

Do you understand the basic tenets of trauma, 2014? Essentially, two people can experience the same (explosion/ earthquake/ birth) and one may suffer trauma, while the other walk away.
I'm bloody lucky in that, like you, I am (generally speaking) as hard as nails. With 16 years as a (female) military officer, any sign of weakness and you may as well leave. (Incidentally, my 'fuck that, I'm strong enough to cope' attitude undoubtedly prevented me from asking for help for several years).
I am still able to have empathy for people that are experiencing long term trauma, whether or not I would have done in the same scenario.

Do you believe that a mother of premature twins with an identical history to yours, does not deserve mental health support, because you (at the current time) do not require it?

It is interesting to consider how much the glossy parenting mags contribute to the expectations/ dashed angle you are pushing, (and ultimately in a few cases that may come into play) but the fact remains that anyone who is struggling with the repercussions of trauma does not deserve to be brushed off with an argument that essentially can be reduced to 'well it didn't affect me'. That shows a lack of understanding of trauma as a concept in entirety.

As an aside - I only mentioned dc3's birth because people find it easier to relate to these types of discussions. I did not enter that birth expecting it to be rosy. Dc1 was CS for macrosomia in a hospital where I did not speak the language, and they removed her at birth for suspected spinal abnormality. Dc2 was vbac1 failure to progress (back to back), and included a failed internal rotation, and ultimately damage to my nethers that necessitated ongoing treatment. Going in to dc3 I had my eyes wide open about how brutal, bloody, and unpredictable birth was. That combined with my 'invincible' attitude should have protected me from any trauma...

Anyhoo. I'm glad you did not experience any long term mental health issues as a result of your twin's premature birth. I hope they are both happy and healthy, and (genuinely) that you are far enough down the road for it not to bite you. There is an argument to be made that this gives you the strength to have greater compassion for those who do suffer.

[Tinkhasflown]

I know people with real ptsd believe me having a traumatic birth experience doesn't come close.

That is one if the most insulting things I have ever read on here. 2014 you very obviously have no idea what actual trauma is and until you have walked a mile in someone else's shoes then you should learn to be a little more sensitive with your opinions.

I had absolutely no unrealistic expectations for my 2nd birth and yet undiagnosed vasa previa meant my child bled out on delivery and it took an hour and 45 minutes for her to be resuscitated and stabilised enough for transfer to nicu. For that whole time I thought she was dead. I was so traumatised I couldn't speak about it. My milk didn't come in, consultant said normal as a result of the trauma. Nightmares, flashbacks and the ongoing terror that there would be long term effects. PTSD was diagnosed and resulted in a year of therapy. Trying suffering what I went through for just 10 minutes then tell me it wasn't 'real'.

[willothewisp17]

I had an emergency c section due to preeclampsia and had to deliver my baby at 30 weeks, and although I didn't find it physically traumatic, emotionally it was utterly soul destroying. it took me a day or two to actually come out of my haze and realise just how unwell my tiny baby girl was, and I remember one night at around about midnight a neonatal nurse woke me to tell me that my daughter had to be ventilated and gave me a photograph they had taken of her with nothing on her face before they ventilated her. the joy at seeing her full face was outlived with the feeling of terror that I might never see that face alive again, it was a very long and lonely night in my little hospital room and the only time anyone ever came to see to me was to take my blood pressure, I don't actually think I was asked once how I was coping x

[lazycrazyhazy]

2014: "I'm sorry but to me a traumatic birth is one ever that results in death or injury to mum or baby."

Have you not heard of ' near death experience" or PTSD? We are all different, some will have a terrible experience and emerge relatively unscathed, others will have a bad experience which affects them for ever.

My DD nearly died due to maternal sepsis. She had an EMCS category 1, crash CS and a GA. She's strong and doing well but it was hugely traumatic for us all.

[Slimthistime]

Ive honestly never come across the idea that giving birth would be lovely in any way
Unless my brain filtered out those comments
Women in my family have always had horrific experiences giving so perhaps I absorbed that from a young age.

[Slimthistime]

PS I absolutely see how it can cause PTSD and was quite raging when a friend nearly died giving birth and other people made comments about the effect on the bond with the baby when my friend was still in intensive care and I was frightened she'd die.

[kingfishergreen]

I'm sorry but to me a traumatic birth is one ever that results in death or injury to mum or baby.

Some would say that thinking your baby is dying, having them pulled from you and resuscitated, hearing your own vitals as you go into shock, and waking-up with 80 stitches across your abdomen having lost litres of blood counts as 'injury'.

Of course the loss of a child is the worst possible trauma, but it's not the only trauma.

What's traumatic to person A is not traumatic to person B, we are all different, there is no 'correct' perception of trauma.

I didn't expect a 'perfect' delivery with singing larks and scented oils, but neither did I expect to nearly die.

A year on, I still see the look on that MW's face as she lost trace of DD's heartbeat, and reached for her red button. Trying to pretend she wasn't panicking.

[Abbylee]

First, you need therapy if you are boasting about abuse while abusing others bc of your difficulty. My husband thought that he lost ds and me when I gave birth. Ds was unexpected butt first breach, c-section, with one Dr. In a first world country. Shall I bash every mom whose Dr was not Stupid? Arrogant?
Childbirth is a 1-10 scale event. My mother had easy deliveries, mine were difficult.
Only a small percentage have wondrous births. The rest just muck through and are grateful for hopefully healthy babes.

[MaQueen]

At 37 weeks, I hadn't felt DD1 move all day. My midwife scanned me and saw that (thankfully) DD1 was fine, but she was an extended breech - with her head up under my ribs.

So, she advised I had an elective c-section. My c-section was scheduled for 9am, but there were so many emergency c-sections that day, that I didn't go to theatre until 4pm. I had been nil by mouth for nearly 24 hours by that point, so felt dreadfully thirsty with a blinding headache.

In theatre, the aneasthetist struggled to give me a spinal block, it was extremely painful. He managed it on the 3rd attempt. Being very dehydrated, and faint through low blood sugar I was physically shacking with distress. DD1 was also becoming distressed and the midwife was struggling to find DD1's heart beat. The surgeon told her to swab me immediately with Betadine so he could make the incision. After a second, he barked 'Faster' at her.

They got DD1 out very quickly, but it felt very rough and brutal. It felt like a thousand seconds before we heard her cry. Because I had an IV drip in both hands I couldn't hold her, but DH held her close to my face. I looked at her and felt nothing. I felt so sick and faint and shaky.

The next few hours are a fog. My family visited that evening, but my memories were jumbled and I thought they visited the following night. By 9pm, I was alone with DD1 and the spinal bloke was wearing off and the pain was bad. No one had remembered to get my script for proper pain relief signed by a doctor, and there wasn't a doctor available. The pain increased. By 10pm I was crying with pain - I'd had major abdominal surgery only 6 hours earlier and all they could give me was paracetamol.

By 11pm the pain was unbearable and I vomited. Finally, a midwife took pity and injected morphine straight into my muscle, thank God, thank God, thank God. They took DD1 to the nursery, so I slept for a while. But then they brought her back at 4am, waking me up 'because the nursery was too busy'.

I was groggy with morphine, and didn't have use of my legs...but they left DD1 with me anyway. She cried and cried.I had to shuffle along the bed, to drag her cot toward me and it was agony. It was agony to lift her, and I had no idea how to BF her. I buzzed and buzzed, but no one came.

At 6am a midwife appeared and ordered me into the shower. I could barely walk, only shuffle tiny steps. There was no one to help me. My stomach felt like it was on fire and I was terrified of slipping on the wet shower floor. All I had was a thin strip of dressing over my stapled stomach. I have never felt so vulnerable. I sobbed and sobbed in the shower and the water poured down.

I was shaky with hunger, but was told I'd have to walk to the other end of the ward for breakfast - that was about 50 yards away. It might as well have been 50 miles. It hurt so much to walk (they'd removed DD1 so fast, that my innards had been really pounded). So I didn't eat. When I looked at DD1 I felt nothing.

I was in a room alone, and was left to change DD1 and try and feed her. I didn't see anyone until DH arrived at 10am and at last I had help, but I knew something was very wrong inside my head. I couldn't focus and I felt so scared and shaky. Friends and family visited and my room was filled with flowers and cards, but it felt like I watching it all from behind a thick pane of glass. When I looked at DD1 I felt nothing.

I had no sleep for the next 48 hours, as they wouldn't take DD1 to the nursery 'It's too busy.' A midwife raised her voice to me for not wearing my compression stockings. I hadn't been able to bend to put them back on. For some reason my nipples were bleeding and BF was so painful. When I looked at DD1 I felt nothing.

My Auntie brought me a pot of flowering hyacinths and the scent was over powering (to this day I can''t bear the smell of hyacinths, -it makes my stomach clench because it puts me back in a hot hospital room with a screaming DD1).

I was discharged on Day 4 of this misery. I wanted to leave DD1 at the hospital but knew I couldn't say that aloud. The midwife assumed I would sit in the back with DD1. I couldn't bear to. I sat in front with DH and desperately pretended there wasn't a newborn on the back seat.

The fog was still in my head and I got confused and thought DH wasn't driving us home as I didn't recognise any of the roads. Once home I couldn't focus enough to even make a cup of coffee correctly for DH, me and my Mum and I cried in the kitchen. That night, I sat in the bathroom and worked out on a piece of paper exactly how many days until DD1 would start school. The number ran into the thousands, and I cried all over again. When I looked at DD1 I felt nothing.

Not surprisingly, within 3 weeks I was diagnosed with severe PND. I now know that I am extremely sensitive to hormone fluctuation and highly intolerant of progesterone. So it was very likely that I was always going to develop PND - but I honestly believe that the trauma of birth amplified my symptoms to a great extent by also causing me to have PTSD, too. And that is too much for anyone to take.

It was five, very long and dark months before I felt the first glimmer of affection for DD1, and over the next year I slowly fell in love with her. But it took another 2 years, and the birth of another DD before I was fully recovered from PND.

[Fabsmum]

"Only a small percentage have wondrous births"

The majority of low risk women who choose not to have hospital births go on to have uncomplicated labours with no need for an epidural.

Most people's labours are absolutely fine.

And you don't have to have an 'easy' or short labour to have a birth you will go on to describe as 'wonderful'.

Labour is a colossal feat of physical endurance and is often gruelling. So is mountain climbing or running marathons. People can accept that both these things can be profoundly difficult and physically and emotionally excruciating, and at the same time amazing and life altering in a good way. Why can't people see that labour is also like this for many women?