Birth trauma will not define me forever
Gemma pens down her harrowing journey with the birth of her eleventh baby. Her mothers intuition kicks in but her concerns are dismissed by professionals. She says: “The ignorance and dismissive behaviour of some staff members had a lasting effect.”
It has been a long nine months and only now do I feel comfortable with my journey. In hope to others out there: trust your instincts and intuition.
On the 30th of July I remember waking up and having a show. A couple of hours later, tightenings began. I waited out the entire day and attended triage later that evening although I was confident I was not in active labour. I wanted reassurance as I had been diagnosed with polyhydramnios (the build-up of increased amniotic fluid). I was examined and told I was 3-4cm dilated but as I was not actively labouring, so I could go home.
“My community midwife became such a pivotal part of my journey”
Not my first rodeo
I did not sleep that evening with thoughts racing through my head, and I woke up the next day vomiting. This was not my first rodeo, in fact it was my eleventh. I spoke to the triage team and was told that unless my waters break, or my surges became more intense, only then I should I go in. I expressed my fears that if my waters broke at home, my baby and I would not get to the hospital.
Once again, these feelings got dismissed. I was seeing my community midwife a day or so later. T At that meeting we discussed my thoughts and my feelings: she made me feel validated and said if I was concerned to give the hospital a call. My community midwife became such a pivotal part of my journey. I will be forever grateful for her and her dedication to the profession. My mother’s intuition at this time was still overpowering me. We went into hospital and after a long afternoon we finally left with a plan. I was reluctant to say the least.
When it all went wrong
So, let us move to the 3rd of August last year, the day I was to be admitted to hospital to have my waters broken. When we arrived at the hospital, a brilliant midwife welcomed us. She was very compassionate and caring and listened to our fears and our hopes. In a prior pregnancy, I had group B strep so it was agreed that I would be given antibiotics. We were happy as our baby previously ended up in the neonatal unit.
It was agreed that my waters would be broken and I would be checked and mobilised to see if we could progress accordingly. The midwife asked to check to make sure that everything was OK and we agreed as we knew the risks of polyhydramnios.
That is when it all went wrong, that is when I saw the panic on the midwife's face. The emergency buzzer was pulled, this was the last thing I can remember, becoming accepting of my own death. How do you ever comprehend getting over that, being comfortable dying so your child can live. Hearing the midwife saying the cord was going blue. My baby was delivered by general anaesthetic for a cord prolapse, this is the last thing I can remember for at least five days.
“The ignorance and dismissive behaviour of some staff members have a lasting effect”
Lasting effect
How do you get over the guilt, the disappointment, the frustration, and the hurt of things not going at all how you wanted? Not one single thing. Irrespective of this being my eleventh child. I still wasn’t listened to. The ignorance and dismissive behaviour of some staff members can have a lasting effect. There’s a culture of fear contacting the unit, as you wonder if you’re going to be seen as that erratic mum that questions every niggle and every pain.
The bigger picture was anxiety: anxiety of not being listened to, the anxiety of the fear you know something is not right. The anxiety of not communicating effectively as you're classed as a hostile mum. The empathy and compassion are really dismissed by some healthcare professionals. While I am still struggling with the memories of my delivery, for some reason the thoughts that hurt the most are not being able to do things like skin-to-skin at once, delayed cord clamping or immediate latching.
Robbed
I don’t remember holding my baby for the first time after my c-section, thank God my husband took a couple of photos or else I would have zero memories. Realising once again that I don’t remember the exact moment I really met my daughter. I mean the moment I was able to see her face and look into her eyes. My baby was laid on my chest for the first time, but I could not really see her at that angle. I do not feel like I remember it, something is missing. I felt for a long time and questioned my husband, is she in fact our baby?
I just feel so robbed of those moments l cry, knowing I will never get those amazing first moments back and I am left with horrific memories instead. How do you forgive someone who invalidates your experiences? Who is coming from a place of ignorance and cannot ever understand what it means to have perinatal trauma. The insulting comments from health professionals stating that if I had not been as erratic, this conversation would not be happening, as if my waters had gone at home we would not be there now.
“My husband was going through this traumatic experience with no support”
Ripple effect
For days my husband had been trying to advocate for me, everyone dismissed his concerns. Then when the emergency happened, the emphasis is not telling the partners what is going. But that is so ignorant of them as he was living this emergency too. He’s going through this traumatic experience with no support.
I was so sick of people belittling my feelings about my birth! We don’t talk about the ‘what if something goes wrong’. We are equipped as humans to digest information and if we were given the tools to be proactive before the reactive happens that could surely be a positive to have those tools in place. We all know that when a mother or partner is maternally unstable, it has a ripple effect on all the family and society.
Flashbacks
It was not the birth I ever envisioned having. I’ve had such horrible nightmares at times, for example that my baby gets removed from my care. I could not stop blaming myself for what happened. The first eight weeks of her life, my daughter had to rely on other people, not her mummy. I have flashbacks to the birth, but to me I did not give birth which hurt and I felt guilt. I had nightmares where I woke up in a cold sweat after dreaming about the c-section, the blood was running down the table and they couldn’t stop it. I would see the midwife's face constantly straddled over me as she was trying to keep my baby alive.
“I’ve realised how little support, guidance and compassion we have from society when it comes to birth trauma”
Dark days
Anxiety is like a volcano, it fills up with all emotions, which we keep pushing down to the back of our minds, eventually the volcano can take no more and it erupts. I’ve had dark days, days where I could walk away and shut out the world. I take each day as it comes and whether a good or difficult day, I am grateful. I may still have a tough journey ahead, but I am forever grateful for those who stood by me and never made me feel alone.
The learning to live with birth trauma workshop I took was the most emotive, empowering and validating group I have ever worked in. I never understood how strong I really am and that I have begun my healing from birth trauma. If there is one thing that I can come away with is that I know I am not alone and there are others out there who’ve gone through what I have been through and going through.
Support network
Moving forward from this group it made me realise how little support, guidance and compassion we have from society when it comes to birth trauma. This is something that I will take with me, and I will put into practice. I will change the way I work with my families as I would never want any family to feel the way we’ve felt. There is so much more work to do around perinatal support, not just for mums but for dads and maternal partners. I know that I can live with this moving forward. Thank you for my support network, I will be forever grateful you have taken the time to be with me.