The Day I Died: A journey through birth trauma and recovery

Trigger Warning: This article discusses Postpartum Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PPTSD), Birth Trauma, and Medical Emergencies, which some readers may find distressing I share this story not just to process it, but to raise awareness. Birth trauma happens more often than we talk about. Complications in labour deserve more understanding, support, and open conversation. Storytelling enables us to break the silence, connect with others, and start the healing process, both individually and collectively.

This is the day I died.

Not literally, but it marked the end of life I knew it. My body was no longer mine. My sense of self was shattered. In its place came a new reality: epilepsy, PPTSD (Postpartum Posttraumatic Stress Disorder), and postnatal depression became my daily companions.

Image by Jan Canty via Unsplash

How Memory Works in Trauma

Trauma alters how memory works. Studies show that when people experience a traumatic event, their memories become fragmented. Even witnesses recall events differently, shaped by stress and emotion.

In my case, I was barely conscious for much of what happened. My memory is a collection of fading images, sounds, and sensations. My husband was there to confirm what I couldn’t recall.

Even now, it feels like piecing together a dream, or a nightmare.

The Lead-Up to Labour: Missed Signs

Pregnancy is considered full-term at 40 weeks. If labour hasn’t started naturally by 41–42 weeks, induction may be recommended to avoid complications like stillbirth or fetal distress..

At 40 weeks and 6 days, I was induced with a hormone gel (prostaglandin), but it didn’t work. They tried again at 41 weeks and 2 days.

By 41 weeks and 3 days, I had lost the mucus plug, was bleeding, and felt something was wrong. I went to the hospital and was monitored for hours.

The baby’s heartbeat was irregular.

A shift change happened. The new doctor discharged me without explanation. Exhausted, alone, and confused, I wanted to trust her. But something felt off.

At 41 weeks and 5 days, I was scheduled for induction. But at 10:00 a.m., I got a call:

There were no beds. They’d call me tomorrow.

At noon, my water broke. I was prepared to wait at home until contractions started.

Then I saw more blood and green mucus - meconium.

What is Meconium?

Meconium is a baby's first stool.. If it appears before birth, it signals fetal distress. If inhaled by the baby, it can cause serious breathing difficulties or infection.

I was alone. My husband was working in a place with no phone signal. I waited through contractions on my own. When he returned, we reached the hospital by 3 p.m.

There were still no beds.

Labour Turns Into a Crisis

I was placed in the emergency pregnancy department. My contractions were every minute and intense, but I was forced to wait.

I had to remain in bed with straps around my belly to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. I couldn’t move. This wasn’t what I had planned.

I was given Entonox too early, making me dizzy and nauseous for four hours.

During pregnancy, I had tested positive for Group B Strep (GBS), a bacterial infection that can be fatal to newborns delivered vaginally if untreated.

I needed IV antibiotics before delivery. But everything was delayed.

By the time I was moved to a room, I had a fever. The doctors realised I was developing sepsis.

What is Sepsis?

Sepsis is a life-threatening immune overreaction to infection, causing organ failure. Pregnant women and newborns are particularly vulnerable, as sepsis can develop from untreated infections, prolonged labour, or complications like Group B Strep.

I had written and verbally requested a caesarean if things went wrong.

But no one was prepared. I wasn’t given pain relief, no epidural, no plan.

When they finally decided on a C-section, the doctors reviewed my records. The anaesthesiologist found an MRI from a year earlier showing lesions on my right temporal lobe. It had been ordered after I reported cognitive symptoms. The neurologist sent the results, but they never reached my GP.

I was burning with fever, in septic shock, unable to advocate for myself.

I faintly remember a nurse pressing firmly on my back, grounding me in that moment of chaos, pain, and fear, as I fought for my life and my baby’s.

Image by Nivedhita via Unsplash

My body was shutting down. I lost consciousness.

Right before the epidural, I had my first visible seizure.

The alarms went off.

Twenty doctors rushed in.

My husband was pushed out of the room.

The doctors said, “Forget about the baby - we need to save the mother.”

I don’t know how long I was unconscious. Protocols delayed the C-section, putting the baby at risk.

After My Daughter Was Born

She was born by emergency C-section at 11:40 p.m.

I didn’t wake up until the early hours of the next morning.

When I opened my eyes, my husband was there. He asked if I wanted to see our daughter.

I assumed she was okay. I was too weak to keep my eyes open.

I couldn’t hold her. I couldn’t process what had happened. It felt like waking from a nightmare and being handed someone else’s baby.

Seizures became a part of my reality after birth. That’s another story for another day.

Amid the chaos, I will always remember the nurses. Their strength and presence during the whole week spent in the hospital in those darkest hours meant more than words can express.

Trying to Survive as a mother

For two months, I wasn’t allowed to hold my daughter unsupervised in case I had a seizure.

I couldn’t bathe her, take her for a walk, or even be alone in a room.

The disconnect was overwhelming.

I’d imagined maternity leave would mean walks in the park, museum visits, and fresh air.

Instead, I was stuck inside the house, isolated and overwhelmed.

PTSD After Birth: A Silent Epidemic

After surviving all of this, I wasn’t the same.

I later learned about PPTSD. It develops after childbirth, particularly in cases involving medical trauma, life-threatening situations, or feelings of helplessness.

PPTSD after childbirth affects 3–6% of women, but for those who experience complications like emergency C-sections, preterm birth, or excessive medical intervention, the rate is much higher.

For months, I felt numb, disconnected, and afraid.

Author's own image

 The Only Thing That Kept Me Going

 

When I finally held my daughter, she instinctively crawled toward my breast and began nursing.

That was the first moment I felt something real.

But this was the day I died as Christina, and a new person was born, one who had to accept a new way of life. While many describe birth as completing a cycle, it didn’t feel like an ending for me. Instead of closing a chapter, it opened something raw and unfinished… something painful I’m still learning to live with.

“There are certain events that can never be separated from the time in which they occurred.

We are left trying to understand them, but they refuse to be fixed in the past.

Instead, they live with us, inside of us, shaping the way we move through the world.” 

Patrick McGrath

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This article has been sponsored by the Psychiatry Research Trust, who are dedicated to supporting young scientists in their groundbreaking research efforts within the field of mental health. If you wish to support their work, please consider donating. 

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