Isabel’s story

Content warning: This story contains references to traumatic childbirth experiences, blood, fear of dying, medical trauma, and mental health consequences

I was lucky to have a relatively healthy pregnancy but was diagnosed with gestational diabetes at 29 weeks. Though diet controlled, I was advised to have an induction at 38+5 weeks due to restricted growth.

Despite the induction, labour didn’t really start for me for four days. As things progressed, I had an epidural and my daughter was fitted with a monitor on her head, which I had always wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, my daughter’s heart rate dropped, and the consultant advised we needed forceps and an episiotomy, which I also didn’t want, but I didn’t have capacity to explore an alternative.

I was handed my daughter and became vaguely aware of sudden chaos.

I had sustained a 3B tear and was haemorrhaging. After a quick cuddle, I had to hand my daughter to my husband and a big yellow form replaced her. At this point I could barely see or hold a pen, but I remembered this form from previous surgeries and knew that I was signing a document which said I might die.

I was wheeled through the corridor to theatre, with my legs still in stirrups, and due to an uneven epidural, I had to have general anaesthetic.

Remembering the yellow form, I was convinced I would now die.

During this time, my husband was left with our newborn. He could see exactly where my bed had been because it was the only square of floor that wasn’t covered with my blood. Nobody gave him an update on my wellbeing for 45 minutes and the only person he saw was a cleaner who came to mop up.

I had several ongoing issues after the birth, including trouble establishing breastfeeding. I was frustrated and upset as I was advised to move to formula, so we combi-fed until I paid for private support to exclusively breastfeed.

I was able to see an NHS physio for my tear, but she was limited in the support she could offer. The gynae consultant prescribed medication which was regularly out of stock, and my condition worsened.

After 18 months I was referred to the colorectal team. I was advised that I was low priority because there were cancer patients ahead of me which made me feel incredibly guilty.

I was eventually given an appointment for surgery, and in the weeks leading up to this I was sure I would die from the anaesthetic. Memories of the birth plagued me, and I planned to write goodbye letters to my family. I ultimately didn’t because I didn’t want my husband to find them before I died.

Physically I made good recovery, but I was constantly seeing images of the surgical room, and bright lights and discussions of childbirth triggered feelings of panic.

My GP referred me for a psychiatric assessment, where I was diagnosed with PTSD. I was then offered CBT through the Spring Platform, which was a mixture of in-person appointments and online tasks that I did each day in my own time. It was a difficult process, as I had to delve into and explore the feelings I had around my experience, but I was supported by a fantastic psychologist.

I have now been signed off but keep access to the platform to go back to it when I need.