Tag: pregnancy

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Understanding Childbirth Trauma: My Personal Journey

This feels like it might be a big one.

I heard on the radio today about a new podcast that will be talking about the trauma of childbirth. The ad reminded me that because the minute childbirth is over you immediately have your baby and the new, unrelenting, unforgiving demands of a new-born, as well as whatever else in your life still needs your attention and investment, we can often just ‘crack on’. It got me thinking. That’s so true. For the dads in the labour room too.

One of my first blog posts was about my own experience in becoming a mother, and I was honest in what I said. But I didn’t go into a huge amount of depth.

Both my labours were very difficult, but after each one I had my babies in my arms, and went straight to trying to breastfeed them, whilst someone at the other end was sewing me up. Then it was all about learning this new tiny little person, responding to every cry to work out whether they were hungry, cold, dirty nappy, needed cuddles, skin on skin, and so on.

And then it very quickly became about taking them home and what that would be like.

Then it was all about baby’s weight gain / loss, checking the belly-button, making sure our house was right and safe, talking about all the ‘stuff’ that needs to be talked about by midwives and health visitors. Checking my stitches to make sure they’re healing.

I could continue in this vein, but I want to focus on what I think actually was a traumatic labour experience for me, the second time. Birthing Liv was hard work, and very painful, and lasted a long time but…

Toby’s was a traumatic experience. I talked about it in the immediate aftermath, with family and friends; I’m not shy or particularly private even about this stuff, but I actually think there’s something there that I really need to process.

I was induced with Toby. At 40 years old I was told I could opt for induction on my due date, rather than waiting until 41 or 42 weeks. I was up for that, get him out of me! I was so poorly with flu like symptoms, major conjunctivitis and huge headaches the few days before he was born, I was very ready for him to be out. It was only once I was lying in my hospital bed, all wired up, 1cm dilated, and ready to get going that a consultant came in and happened to mention he didn’t believe it was right to induce at 40 weeks, as it was unnecessary and too early. Well, cheers pal, that’s so helpful right now.

We went ahead, as by that time I was not about to go back home again.

Never mind the length of time it took for the gel hormones to kick in, I did ultimately, around 6am the following morning, start with sudden and extremely sharp, deep and painful contractions. They did all the measurements and scans to check little man was where he should be, and he was. Head down, engaged, and ready to go. I made it very clear that I absolutely wanted an epidural, and was promised would get one, but I was only 3cm dilated so they would wait until I was 7cm.

I don’t remember all the little details or the timeline from that point, but just as they were preparing my epidural, the consultant checked if she could feel his head, and he wasn’t there! She couldn’t find him (internal check). He had disengaged and shifted back up inside my tummy. Suddenly there were about 8 people huddled round the business end of my bed trying to figure out what to do. This lasted about an hour. I was in excruciating pain with every contraction, and had no pain relief at all. My poor husband was in the room during all of this, watching me in pain (again!) and entirely helpless to do anything about it.

When they checked again after that hour, Toby had re-engaged and was on his way out. I asked with desperation for my epidural, but was denied, as it was too late and baby was already trying to get out!

SO MUCH PAIN.

In addition to that, he was apparently lying on his umbilical cord, compressing it and putting himself at risk, so they asked me to turn onto my left side. Well, I tell you with no word of a lie, I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it. So they, and my lovely husband, did it for me, and I have never felt anything like it. There are literally no words to describe the intense agony I felt in that moment, I screamed out so loudly (right in Jon’s ear, literally) that they immediately put me back where I was, I did one huge push, they episiotomied me, shoved some forceps in, dragged him out, and there he was! I heard the sound of, and Jon saw with his own eyes, over a litre of blood pour out of me and into, basically a bin bag, hung across the width of the end of my bed. He nearly fainted. Twice. A naked, blood covered, 8lb gorgeous little man who had my heart. And all of my immune system apparently, because as soon as he was out, the headaches went, the conjunctivitis was gone in less than a day, and no flu symptoms.

But, I’ve never actually given that experience much mental or emotional attention because there’s not really been the opportunity! And over 2 years on, I’ve ‘got over it’, haven’t I?

I’m not sure actually, because when I think about it, I try to be quite matter of fact, but actually what happened to my body that day was brutal. Labour was 3.5 hours, he was born at 9.23am. It was the worst 3.5 hours of my life, that resulted in the best little man I could have ever dreamed of.

But then, when you think about all the awful situations where mums go through labour (or even before they get the chance to) and then something unthinkable happens, and they don’t even get their baby to take home. I can’t even begin to imagine that. When I try my brain actually shuts down and prevents me from going there. For anyone who has been through that, I am so so sorry. You have my sincerest and deepest sympathy, and so much respect that you have managed to carry on in life.

I got my boy. Healthy, happy, not too much drama once he was out (just some weight loss and trouble latching, so we went to bottle feeding after 4 months and all was well). So does that mean the trauma my body went though doesn’t count, because the result was so positive? Does it mean I just need to ignore it and not give it any time?

To be honest I don’t even know how to process it, but I’m a person who believes in the genuine influence of emotions, the reality of hormones, and the fragility of mental health. So I do want to give it some attention. I’ll let you know how I get on once I find my way.

Much love to you all, as you’re walking your own parenting journeys. It’s not easy, and it’s good to share.

x

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Baby #2 Guilt

As my second pregnancy progressed, the bump started to show, and the aches and pains started to make me less able to play with my little girl, the little whispering voices of guilt started to make gains on my attention. When so many of my interactions with her became “I’m sorry sweetheart, mummy can’t do that right now”… “Babe, mummy is a bit too tired to play that”… “Go ask daddy, he’ll help with that”… it began to eat at me that we may have made a horrible mistake in having another baby.

Have we ruined her life? All that one on one time she will have had with us for 17 months will simply cease to exist. And not only will she have to share me now, but baby boy’s needs will sometimes take priority over hers. Will she hate him? Will she hate ME?

Livi fell in love with my bump. She cuddled into it, stroked it, and I’m pretty sure she understood there was a baby in there even though she was still really little. She tried to say “baby Toby” and it came out “bae Toa” which was just adorable. But I knew she had no concept of what was to come once he was born.

I cried a lot as the end of my second pregnancy approached. I loved my girl so so so much, and whilst I wasn’t worried that I wouldn’t love my little boy as much, which I know can be a fear for a lot of mums who are having their second baby, I didn’t know how I was going to give them both what they needed and deserved. I was already exhausted; I had nothing left, but they deserved everything.

I was in hospital a couple of nights and our very close friends looked after Livi while we had Toby. When it was time, dad went home to her, and soon after brought her to the hospital to collect us. It was the only time in her little life we had been apart from one another for any length of time, and the look of disgust and betrayal on her face when she saw me with another baby broke my heart. She wouldn’t come to me. That was the final straw in the mountain of guilt straws!

It took a few days for her to fully warm back to me, and those days were the most painful and guilt ridden days I have ever experienced. She loved her little brother from the moment we were back in our own home and she sat in front of his little car seat in the lounge (having just come in from the car, don’t panic, he wasn’t there long), stroking his tiny hands, looking at her daddy saying “bae Toa” on repeat. Delightful. But the deep connection she and I had had took some rebuilding.

But rebuilt it was. The guilt subsided and feelings of wholeness replaced them. Our little family felt complete. I gradually started to understand that it was GOOD. She had a new little best pal to dote on. These days, she has a little best pal to order around! They love each other SO much (and also fight a lot), and I know now that we did not ruin her life, we made it even more glorious and full of adventure! And that gorgeous little lad has the most wonderful big sister to care for him, protect him (which I have no doubt she will as they get older!) and teach him new ways to play (and new boundaries to push). She’s so creative, such a great problem solver, and so incredibly sociable, I have a feeling that if we hadn’t given her a sibling she’d be somewhat bereft! And, for the record, she and I are as close as we could be.

As I’ve said before, everyone’s story is their own, and every family is different.

But if you’ve felt or are feeling guilt, or any kind of apprehension around what effect having another baby might have on your first, I just want to offer some encouragement that whilst those feelings are intense and real and very very valid, don’t let them steal too much joy from you. From what I have seen and read of others’ experiences over the few years I’ve been aware of parenting struggles, and of course my own, I am confident for you, that it will be worth it. x

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Your story is your own

Parenting can be a very lonely experience.

Parents often feel incapable, unworthy, guilty, and therefore can feel like they are being judged for every and any decision they make, or don’t make.

Different and sometimes opposing ‘parenting styles’ and methods are everywhere, and ‘guaranteed’ formulas for sleeping, feeding, nursing, optimal one on one play time, nursery or no nursery, discipline, boundaries… the list goes on and on.

Some parents have help and support from family members.  Some parents have no one. Some parents have interfering and unwelcome ‘help’, while others are crying out for just half an hour away from their kids.

Everyone’s story is different. No two families are the same. No wonder we can feel so alone. And yet, when I’ve opened up to other mums in a moment of ‘I have nothing left’, I’ve found some solidarity.

Vulnerability and honesty about what we’re experiencing is so important.  We become seen. Our feelings are valid.

The reality of parenting came as a shock to me. I had spent my whole adult life longing to be a mum, to have a family.  It didn’t happen for me until my late 30s. Married in 2020, first baby born June 2021 when I was 39. I had dreamt and imagined what it would be like. I desperately wanted to experience pregnancy, and childbirth. I wanted it all! I had friends who had had kids, and I’d seen that it was tough. I knew there would be a lot of sleepless nights. I knew breastfeeding might not be straightforward. I was ready for it!

The elation that came with that positive pregnancy test was indescribable; it was literally ALL I had ever wanted.

I felt so sick for 3 months straight, and was utterly exhausted.

Second trimester was better, and seeing the bump develop and ultimately feeling her moving about was magical!

Third trimester I WAS HEAVY. Back pain, hip pain, couldn’t sleep on my tummy anymore (devastated!) Still utterly exhausted.

Then at 41 weeks and after 2 sweeps I went into 28 hours of labour with no pain relief until hour 23. Not because I’m brave, but because my birthing notes were not very clear and gave the impression I didn’t want an epidural. Gas and air made me sick. 2 pethidine injections had no effect. I felt like my entire lower back and bowel were going to explode out of my backside… NOT the area of my body I was expecting to feel the pain! After 23 hours an epidural came to the rescue, and I was like a new woman. But then, because I couldn’t feel anything down below, when it was time to push I couldn’t push hard enough! Believe me, I gave it everything I had, but after being awake for 36 hours and in indescribable pain for 23 of them, the everything that I had simply wasn’t enough.

My baby girl was born 5 hours later by forceps, after an episiotomy and an internal tear, and losing over a litre of blood, which my husband watched the medical staff sweep up off the floor below the bed…!

The day we brought our bundle of gorgeousness home, we fell into bed that night and I didn’t even make it onto my pillow properly before being out for the count.

Then. Out of nowhere there was the most terrifyingly loud and piercing screaming sound which had me bolt upright in less than a second! She was hungry. I fed her. She fell asleep, so I put her in her little next to me cot, and lay back down.  She cried. And cried. And cried. I sat up, still exhausted from the whole birth experience – and let’s be honest – 9 months of pregnancy, and tried to cradle my tiny, fragile baby back to sleep sitting up in bed. I stayed like that all night, not knowing what else to do.

And that’s when I realised I had no idea what to expect, what to do, or how to even be a parent. And I also realised that there was now going to be zero let up… every moment of every day and every night was now dedicated to the care of this tiny person.

It’s like nothing else I’d ever done.

The midwives said to me just before I left the hospital “see you in a couple of years for the next one” I laughed in their faces and swore blind I was NEVER doing that again.

8 months later I was pregnant – by choice – with number 2.

Three and a half years later we have a very sassy 3 and a half year old girl, and a very sweet and kind 2 year old boy. (Labour with him was actually worse, it was only 3 and a half hours long but I’d never felt pain like it, again had no pain relief, had another episiotomy, was delivered with forceps, and lost even more blood than the first time!)

We are stopping there!

My experience is just my experience. Some women have had to endure so much more than I did, and for others labour was a joyous walk in the park.

But all of this to say, I thought I knew what to expect. I did not.

Early newborn days, developmental leaps, regressions, illnesses, weaning, the commencement of meltdowns. Every new thing was googled googled googled!

But guess what? Read enough articles and you get conflicting advice, varying levels of helpfulness, and blog posts telling you that it worked for them so it will work for you.

Parenting is trial and error. Every new mum and / or dad is doing every single element of parenting for the first time. There really is no manual for a newborn. Or, as we are discovering now, there isn’t really one for toddlers or preschoolers either!

Whatever your story, know that while your experiences are your own, you are not alone in the feelings that accompany them. You are enough, and your little ones think the world of you.