Hello, beautiful,

Welcome back to the blog! I am finally sharing my story…

When I imagined my birth experience, I thought I had it all figured out. For months, I had prepared myself for a natural, unmedicated birth. I envisioned a peaceful, empowering experience where my body would do exactly what I expected it to. I was ready to trust my body, to trust the process, and to welcome my daughter into the world in a way that felt “right” for me. But as we all know, things don’t always go according to plan.

My daughter Keyana was supposed to be born on the 14th of October, but at 37.5 weeks, I was struggling with severe itching all over my body, which kept me up at night. I went to triage twice, and on the second visit, they ran blood tests to check for a liver condition that can cause itching during pregnancy. Although my tests came back negative, they suspected that the condition, which affects liver function, might still be the cause, especially since I had itching on my palms and feet. The doctors decided that because I was already near full term (37 weeks), the risks were too high to continue with the pregnancy, so they suggested induction.

The consultant asked if I wanted to be induced that day. A man actually came in and said to me, “It’s either you choose to be induced, or you risk giving birth to a stillborn baby. But it’s your choice.” Those were the specialist’s exact words, and I went into a state of panic. I told him I needed time to discuss it with my partner, Sham. We decided to delay the induction for a couple of days until I was a bit further along, past 37 weeks. Finally, we went to the hospital on the evening of September 22nd for the induction scheduled for the following day.

When we arrived, I was told the process would take 12-15 hours. I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but I was informed about two types of induction: a non-hormonal procedure with rods and a hormonal one with a ribbon. I opted for the non-hormonal option, but the nurse couldn’t find my cervix, likely due to being a first-time mum and being only 37 weeks pregnant. After much discomfort, they switched to the hormonal ribbon method, which caused pain, but they assured me it needed to stay in for 12-15 hours.

After the waiting period, they checked me and found I hadn’t dilated at all, which was disappointing. The next day, they tried again. Sham was allowed to stay with me, and we moved to a private room, partly due to concerns over my skin condition. I was told to walk around to help with the process, but when I was checked later, I was only one centimetre dilated. I felt defeated and emotional, but the doctors decided to try rods again.

They inserted five rods, and I had to wait another 24 hours. By this point, the contractions began, and the pain intensified. I was encouraged to stay in bed to avoid slowing down the contractions. They inserted a catheter, which was uncomfortable, but it seemed to help. After being monitored, they found I was three centimetres dilated, and a few hours later, I had reached six centimetres.

At six centimetres, they removed the rods and broke my waters, causing stronger contractions. I was put on a hormone drip to help things along. The pain from the contractions became more intense, and I felt overwhelmed, almost as if I had lost my voice and rights in the process. But despite all the discomfort, things were progressing, and I knew the end was near.

The contractions weren’t coming strong enough, so the midwife turned the hormone drip up to level 20. This caused the pain to intensify dramatically, and soon I couldn’t bear it any longer. I screamed for an epidural, but they reminded me I still had a choice. At that point, I felt I had no choice but to get the epidural because the pain was so unbearable. I had to focus all my energy to stay still for the epidural, as even a slight movement could result in paralysis. The injection hurt, but at that moment, everything hurt because of the contractions. After the epidural, I couldn’t move my lower body, it felt completely numb.

I had a button that I could press every so often to release more epidural medication. When I pressed the button, I could feel either cold or warm liquid running through me, which numbed the pain. Every time I felt the pain coming back, I’d check to see if the button was green, signalling it was time for another dose.

The midwife checked me again, and I was six centimetres dilated, which meant the baby would be coming soon. I asked for my partner to be woken up, as I could tell things were moving fast. The midwife came back to check the baby’s heartbeat, but suddenly couldn’t find it. The baby’s heart rate was rising dramatically, as was mine. Given that my waters had been broken for over 24 hours, they began suspecting I had developed an infection. This was a concern because prolonged rupture of membranes increases the risk of infection. They started preparing for a c-section, which was a shock. I had wanted a natural birth at a birthing centre, had not wanted an epidural, and didn’t want to be induced. Now I was facing the possibility of surgery. I was adamant that I didn’t want a c-section, but I knew that was what they were prepping for as they monitored the situation closely.

The midwife was having trouble finding the baby’s heartbeat, so she kept lowering the equipment to try and locate it. I repeatedly told her that I could feel pressure, but she dismissed it, saying it was normal. Finally, I said I could feel hands, and she quickly checked, realising the baby was coming out. My partner saw our daughter coming out, and the midwife had to act fast to prevent Keyana from falling on the floor! As soon as the keyana came out, her heart rate dropped, and other midwives rushed in, shocked that she had been born. They quickly weighed her, checked her, and started her on antibiotics due to concerns about an infection, though they didn’t explain why. I assumed it was for a short period, but we ended up staying in the hospital for 12 days.

The time on the delivery ward was difficult. The environment was noisy and uncomfortable, and the staff’s treatment was poor. I was never given clear answers about why I was still there, even after Keyana came off antibiotics and was healthy. They kept doing unnecessary tests on her, which made me feel like she was being treated like a test subject. I became frustrated, refusing any more procedures on her until they explained why they were doing them. Eventually, they said I couldn’t leave until my health improved, but I was determined to go home. My iron levels were low, and they suggested a transfusion, but I refused, asking for iron tablets instead. They also found high blood pressure, which they said needed to be treated before I could leave. I explained that the stressful, noisy environment was making things worse and I hadn’t seen daylight in over a week. After several attempts to discharge me, I finally discharged myself.

Lessons for Expectant Mothers from My Birth Story

Trust Your Instincts and Advocate for Yourself

• During my labour, I trusted my instincts when I felt pressure and kept asking for someone to check, even when they didn’t think it was urgent. Trust your body and speak up if something doesn’t feel right, you know yourself best, and your voice matters.

Ask Questions and Push for Clear Communication

• There were times I felt frustrated because I wasn’t given clear answers about my or my baby’s care. Don’t hesitate to ask questions about what’s happening to you or your baby, and keep pushing for answers if you don’t understand.

Stay Strong in the Postpartum Period

• The postpartum stay was tough for me, especially with all the noise and lack of clear communication. I learned to advocate not just for my baby, but also for myself. Take advantage of any support you have, and let people know what you need to recover comfortably.

Accept Help and Focus on Recovery

• Physical recovery from childbirth is a process, whether you have a natural birth or not. I needed help I was physically weak and in so much pain and on 8 tablets a day when I left the hospital, and asking for what I needed allowed me to heal better so I could focus on caring for my daughter.

Looking back on my birthing journey, it was an experience that left me shaken. I remember, right after giving birth, wanting to keep my story hidden. I thought about glossing over the reality, making it seem happier and fluffier than it was. But the truth is, my birthing experience was traumatic. When my baby was finally born, I didn’t even want to hold her. That’s such a sad thing for me to say, but it speaks to how the experience left me feeling isolated from her, from myself, and even from reality.

The first few weeks felt surreal. I felt like an alien and saw my baby almost as a stranger. Yet, I also felt an intense need to protect her, refusing to let anyone near her while still feeling an odd fear of her. I just didn’t know how to care for this new life, and I felt so inadequate. My sister, who was quietly observing, later told me she thought I might have been suffering from post-traumatic stress. She didn’t bring it up initially, worried that naming it might make it worse. Looking back, I think she might have been right.

I’m not entirely sure how I managed to pull myself out of that dark space. Bit by bit, things started to improve, but it took time. I was still in the hospital for 12 days after giving birth, which was exhausting and overwhelming. I barely had a moment to process my emotions. Instead of bringing our newborn home to a cosy setting with my hubby, we were in a hospital, restricted environment. COVID restrictions meant he could only visit for limited hours, and then he had to leave. I remember the ward filled with the sounds of crying babies and mothers, women who were also alone due to the restrictions. It was such an isolating and emotionally draining experience.

When I finally got home, I still felt off, but I couldn’t see it myself. I didn’t recognise just how affected I was, moving through those days in a haze. I kept seeing these perfect birth stories online, filled with beautiful moments that just weren’t my reality. My experience was raw, and I felt compelled to share this side, as hard as it is because sometimes birth isn’t this romanticised experience.

What helped me most, slowly but surely, was turning to the Bible. At first, it was small steps: a verse here, a prayer there. But over time, God’s Word started pulling me back to myself. It wasn’t immediate, but the gentle reassurance I found in those pages helped me rebuild.

We also finally got the keys to our new house — our first real family home. It was a fresh start and an overwhelming one at the same time. Our baby was just two months old, and suddenly, we had all this new space, moving from a cramped flat to a house with empty rooms. It felt like a new beginning, filled with hope but also with reminders of how far we had come. This season of life was painful and imperfect, but in the end, it became a testament to God’s grace and strength carrying me through.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope it has brought you some comfort or, at the very least, reminded you that you’re not alone.

Sending blessings your way!

Scherise. X