My Birth Story

I wanted to share with you a little more of my story of becoming a mother. Because so much that happened to me in the perinatal period drives my passion for the work that I do with you in this space.

When I fell pregnant with my daughter, we were thrilled.


If you’ve had a baby before, you know that one of the first big decisions you need to make is where you will have your antenatal care. I live in a small town with a small hospital, and I knew immediately that it wasn’t a place that I personally felt I wanted to birth. This decision was based largely around access to resources and limited options. My local hospital had limited staff, reduced options for pain relief and no special care nursery should anything not go to plan for baby.

At the time, I didn’t want to spend the money on private care, so I chose to birth at a larger, public regional hospital where I felt I had access to more of the support that I would need, especially if things didn’t go to plan.


My pregnancy was straightforward and low risk, so I was allocated to the continuity of care program and saw mostly the same midwife throughout my pregnancy. However, because this was peak covid times, a lot of my appointments (especially in the first and second trimester) were done over the phone. This really impacted my ability to develop a relationship with my midwife.

In all honestly, I don’t think my allocated midwife remembered me and also wasn’t present at my birth or during any of my postnatal care.

At 36 weeks, things started to change. My baby was found to be breech at a routine appointment and I was also measuring a few weeks ahead on fundal height measurements. I was sent off for a scan and told that my baby was in a frank breech position (meaning she was still head up, with her little feet up beside her head). Baby was also measuring on the 99th percentile and estimated to be quite large.


I was abruptly booted out of the continuity of care midwife program after this, as my pregnancy was now considered higher risk. Nobody explained this to me, I found out when I went to book my next appointment that I would only be seeing doctors from then on.

Across the whole pregnancy, I had a different doctor at almost every appointment with varying levels of experience in obstetric care. When I look back now, I can see how hard this was. I had a few particularly challenging interactions, but one that stands out is when I needed to make a decision on whether to try ECV (manual turning my baby into the right position) or an elective caesarean. I was told ECV was a 50% chance of working, so ‘do you want that or a caesarean?’ Despite multiple attempts to understand the risks and how my individual factors change the likelihood of success of ECV, the phrase ‘50/50’ was just continually repeated and I was pressured to make a choice.

The doctor had to leave the room, and my husband and I just looked at each other. ‘I don’t know how to make her understand me. I just don’t feel confident with this’ I said. I had chosen to have a student midwife as part of my care team (who ultimately only came to a few antenatal appointments and was not able to attend my birth or postnatal care). However, was present at this appointment and she gently reminded me of my right to escalate care and ask to see someone more senior (the doctor I was speaking with was a registrar, and I asked to speak with a consultant obstetrician).

Even though I’m a nurse who is very familiar with the hospital system, I was the patient. And it didn’t even occur to me to ask to speak with a consultant.


I think this is a beautiful reminder for any of you out there who are pregnant or planning another baby. It’s always okay to ask for a second opinion, to speak to someone more senior or to change care providers. And I think it also highlights the value of a student midwife or doula as someone who can help you advocate for yourself, because it truly is difficult in the moment.

I also want to remind you that while you might feel pressured to make a decision on the spot, in many cases, it’s okay to ask for time to talk privately with your supports or (if time allows) go home and think about it for a day or two.

I asked to speak with someone else, and a consultant came to see me. He was kind, understanding and valued my gut feelings and concerns. He was able to give me information that related to my body and my baby, and ultimately, I decided I was uncomfortable with the risks of ECV and wanted to book an elective c-section.

Given that my baby was measuring very large, I was also concerned about what my path would look like if the ECV did happen to be successful (which I truly believe in my heart it would not have anyway.) I knew the system. I knew the anxiety around big babies. And I was honestly worried about how the conversation might then turn to induction and fear around my large baby.

I felt confident in my choice. I didn’t have a strong preference for how I birthed, and didn’t feel grief around the fact that I would not have the opportunity to try for a vaginal birth. However I do know that this is not the experience of every woman, and many of you carry very valid and real grief around the choice to birth vaginally not being possible for you. My perspective did shift a little postnatally, as I found the recovery from my c-section to be really challenging and I always wondered if a recovery from a vaginal birth might have been different.


When I gave birth by planned caesarean, I had never met the two doctors who performed my surgery. After inserting the spinal anesthetic, I was laid down on the operating table. The doctor began inserting a urinary catheter, which I could feel completely, and this made me panic. I asked them to stop, and they said they would wait a few minutes for the spinal to begin working. I felt like a burden, and I got the impression the doctor wanted to get things going and didn’t want to wait the extra few minutes. A little while later the doctor checked my spinal block and told me that he was pinching me very hard so if I couldn’t feel it then things were working well. I ended up with a few small bruises on my abdomen, which I am certain were from his pinching.

My planned caesarean birth did not go as I’d hoped, as I experienced a significant 1.6 litre postpartum haemorrhage and my daughter also needed breathing support and special care nursery admission. I wasn’t able to hold her until hours after birth, and we were separated while I was in recovery. Sitting in recovery after birth alone, without my husband or daughter was a bizarrely surreal experience. I felt a little disconnected and in reflecting with my therapist later on, we identified that I was likely in freeze mode. I wasn’t really thinking or feeling much at all. 


My daughter was born weighing 4.660kg, and in all honestly I wondered why my fairly small body made a baby that large and how she possibly would have come out vaginally. This fed into a narrative for me that ‘my body couldn’t do this’. And I know that so many women have a version of this narrative after birth.

My anaesthetist was incredible. As was the midwife present at my birth and a few others that helped me in the first few days after birth. I will forever be grateful to them and for the kind, compassionate, professional and high level care they gave me.

But for a long time I focussed on this, the positives and what I was grateful for, downplaying the fact that my birth had been pretty awful and that the doctor created a really negative experience for me (both in the birth and in the days that followed, where all of my concerns went dismissed and unheard.)

What followed my birth was suspected sepsis for my daughter and a 5 day special care nursery admission, a horrible encounter with one of the nurses there that left me in tears, intense sleep deprivation during our hospital stay, some initial breastfeeding difficulties and a painful physical recovery.


Our early postnatal period was filled with challenges. Including a small surgery for me at 4 weeks postpartum, my husband having ankle surgery when I was 6 weeks postpartum and not being able to weight bear for two weeks (then in a moon boot for another 4), and my daughter being diagnosed with hip dysplasia and put into a hip brace 24/7. Plus a litany of other health issues like conjunctivitis, the common cold and mastitis.

At this point I knew things were really hard, but I was also in survival mode. I didn’t have the mental space or capacity to process what happened (and what seemed to keep relentlessly happening since the birth). So I just kept pushing forward, thinking that with time things would settle.

And while they did settle, the impact of my birth and early postnatal period was significant. At the time I didn’t really appreciate how much it impacted my experience of motherhood or my parenting confidence. I didn’t fully understand the mistrust that I had developed in the healthcare system, and how this in itself was a barrier to me accessing support.

Unpacking this didn’t happen overnight. It happened in stages and when I felt ready.

My first step was having birth debriefing over a couple of sessions with a counsellor a couple of years after my birth. This brought everything back to the surface, but it also allowed me to start processing things more fully and finally let them go.

And later, it was deciding to link with a different counsellor for some ongoing support when life started throwing some extra challenges my way.


When seeing this counsellor, I’ve found parts of my birth and perinatal journey have come up multiple times. And we unpack them as we need to. And each time I feel lighter. Each time we uncover new connections and meanings. Each time I develop a new level of self compassion. And each time, I find more hope that next time will be different.


Early in the postnatal period, I was trying to focus on everything I was grateful for. And there was so much – there was some truly incredibly midwives that I’ll forever feel grateful towards, family and friend who went above and beyond, and of course my perfect little girl who I adored. But when I look back now, all I can see is how many times I was let down and accepted below average care as good enough.

I didn’t want to complain. I didn’t want to take up space when I knew so many women have births that are so much more traumatic than my experience. And because I had professional experience working in this space, I tried to use logical and clinical thinking to tell myself I was fine.

But it wasn’t. And when I gave myself permission to start feeling angry about the ways I was let down. When I allowed myself to feel grief and guilt over being separated from my baby girl. When I finally started acknowledging that parts of my birth were awful and shitty and that I wish just didn’t happen. That’s when I finally started to heal.


I also started making connections that I had never made before. Like realising that everything that happened for me, my husband and my daughter that went wrong in the first few months was health related. This had created a health anxiety that I hadn't even consciously realised I was carrying, and it's been empowering for me to realise this. Not only to understand myself and feel validated, but to change how I respond in these situations that previously would have had my heart racing but no longer do.

Healing from birth and perinatal trauma wasn’t a single event for me. But rather it happened in stages across a period of years.

I wish I’d gotten support sooner. But I’m also deeply proud of the work that I’ve done to heal from this.

And it’s because of this healing that I can now share this story with you now from a place of hope.

I’m so passionate about birth debriefing work because I’ve seen how incredibly powerful it can be. I’ve been there. I’ve felt the pain. But I’ve also felt the relief and joy that come with healing. I can feel the shifts in my thought patterns, my self-compassion and my relationships. In my ability to advocate for myself moving forward. I’ve let go of grief and guilt. And while my story will always be with me, and while I can never change what happened, I’ve reclaimed my power. And that feels amazing.

This is possible for you too. You just need to be ready to take the first step.

If you feel ready to start your healing process, I would be honoured to walk beside you. You can book your appointment right now via my website.