It’s hard to believe that a year ago today I was being whisked into theatre for a crash section. My partner was left in the delivery room not knowing if he was going to lose one or both of us.
I look at my boy, toddling around the room and I feel blessed. Blessed to have him with me, happy, healthy and smiling.
I also feel sad. This is not an emotion I was expecting today, it seems that first birthdays also dredge up emotion and trauma that we somehow hide away. I’m sure these feelings are normal, it was a very traumatic experience for everyone involved, but yet I still feel guilty at the way I feel.
I think of all the rupture mums I now know, the ones who are not so fortunate, who had to say goodbye to their beautiful babies. They couldn’t bring their bundles home in a car seat, instead they bought them home in an urn. They would do anything, absolutely anything to be sat where I am now with my precious son bumbling around my feet.
I think of the work that we all do, raising awareness about Uterine Rupture, trying to educate women on safer birth and I realise how incredibly brave and beautiful they are. They have only one agenda. To ensure that women don’t have to suffer the heartache and pain they hold with them every single day. They put their pain and suffering to one side to help others. How amazing is that! They are some of the strongest, kindest, most wonderful women that I know, and I love them!
Birth trauma is strange, I never thought it affected me, I was always so positive, so thankful my boy made it, so I wasn’t expecting to wake up today with this barrage of emotion. My boy is alive! I should be happy! I should be celebrating this!
And to a point I am, I am of course extremely happy and thankful that I am where I am now. I’m sure as the day passes my emotions will calm down and I will relax and enjoy the day for what it is. A celebration of life! A celebration that I’m fortunate enough to live in an era where modern medicine is able to save babies like mine and mothers like myself. A celebration that I chose to VBAC in a hospital environment, a celebration that the staff on duty one year ago today were vigilant and responsive. A celebration…
But right now my mind is with the mums who can’t celebrate. Who on their birth anniversary will have to deal with the raw emotion and heartbreak that empty arms bring. No sweet pitter patter of feet, so cries, no laughs, just silence.
Silence and Tears!
To all the loss mums I know, I love you, you are in my thoughts, and whilst I can’t ever truly understand the insufferable pain you go through every day, and the emptiness that you feel inside. I can understand fully why you fight the battle you do to educate women and enable safer birth.
And to all the women out there spreading false information, supporting and encouraging dangerous birth, altering statistics, painting untrue pictures of home birth you disgust me!
Despite everything I fully support a womans right to choose how and where she births, as long as she has full informed consent! But the women I’m talking about don’t give informed consent. They fear monger against intervention, they scare women against getting help. They ultimately share responsibility for babies dying unnecessary deaths. They are the reason I know so many loss mums!
Enough is enough!!