“Take Your Baby and Stop Screaming!”

That was the first thing I heard after she was born. They put the baby in my arms and took a picture. I felt disgusted by this warm and sticky little thing. I was still in shock and would have needed more time. Twenty seconds after giving birth, I already felt like a bad mum for the first time. In this picture, you can see a forced smile and blank stare. I swore I would never show it to anyone.

I had a nice pregnancy, felt good, didn’t have any problems. I chose to go to a birthing center instead of a hospital for this first birth. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as I imagined (a soft birth with candle lights). I was in labor for 29 long hours. At one point, it hurt so much that I begged the midwife to transfer me to the hospital. She replied by stating I should just trust my body. Then she ended her slot and wished me good luck. A new midwife came in after that, and a second one for the delivery.

Things got dramatic as the heart of the baby dropped and I didn’t feel any further contractions. The two midwives turned me upside down to help the baby get out, tearing me. When she was born, they gave her oxygen and put her on me by saying this stupid sentence: “Take your baby and stop screaming!”.

I still felt dizzy. A couple of minutes later, one of the midwives told me I was losing too much blood and I had to be transferred to the hospital. Without my baby. I cried and shouted: “No!”. After all I went through, I just wanted to calm down and meet my baby. But the rescue crew was already there, and so I was driven through the city with flashing lights, naked and alone on this November night. I remember they took my blood pressure and it showed 155 (100 is average).

For the second time in a couple of hours, I felt like a bad mom

At the hospital, they gave me laughing gas, so I could slowly calm down while they stitched me. Everyone was congratulating me and asking the name and the weight of the baby. I couldn’t answer. The gender of the baby was supposed to be a surprise and we would have chosen a name after the birth. So I laid there, knowing my baby needed me and felt helpless. For the second time in a couple of hours, I felt like a bad mom.

As the door opened and I saw my partner with the baby in his arms, I cried so much. He had to stay alone with the newborn. He managed to organize a car and a maxi-cosi in the middle of the night to come up to the hospital. For the first time, I could really hold her in my arms, cover her with kisses and tell her I was sorry for this bad start in life. I welcomed her on earth. She was named Frida, which means Peace, and weighted 4 kilos (which is about 8,8 pounds). And we took a nice second “first” picture for our family.

The First Attempt to Understand What Happened

The next days, I could neither sit nor walk. But that was nothing compared to the tears I cried. I felt like I failed my birth. Every time I thought about it, I would sob without stopping. It had nothing to do with Frida, whom I loved so much. Something was wrong though, and I couldn’t figure out what.

After six months, I felt ready to face this birth again and contacted the birthing center for a discussion. As I entered the room, tears were running down my cheeks, I felt sorry for myself and for Frida. They told me they couldn’t give me much information about the birth because the first midwife wasn’t working there anymore. But they gave me the protocol.

It took me some more days to read it. And I felt so angry. At the time I was begging to be transferred to the hospital, the first midwife was wondering if the baby was in the wrong position (it was sunny-side up). But let me suffer six more hours. She put my and Frida’s lives in danger. I was upset, and I still am. This gave me confirmation that things were as bad as I remembered them, but it didn’t help me feel better.

Unexpectedly Pregnant Again

One year after Frida’s birth, I was unexpectedly pregnant again. During the first seven months, I refused to think about birthing. There was no way I would give birth again and was planning for a C-section under general anesthesia. Fortunately, my new midwife told me: “You have to heal from your first birth if you want this baby”. She gave me the name of a wonderful woman who is a midwife and a psychologist. This woman, Kathrin, pointed out the problem after a couple of seconds. I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Everything became clear in my head. I understood the pain, the tears, the fear, the suffering of all these months.

I was afraid of birthing and my body was refusing to open

We worked on my trauma, I spoke a lot and she reformulated. She never confirmed someone did something wrong. That wasn’t the point. The point was how I felt in the situation. She made me lie in the same position I gave birth in and we did a lot of body work. She then also invited my partner to speak about how he felt back then. I hadn’t realized that it was also a shock for him to see all this blood, to stay alone with a newborn, not daring to move. We did a birth preparation in water with her that created a calm bond between us.

Then, one day, my water broke. We went to the hospital, but I had no contractions for the next 36 hours. I knew perfectly why: I was afraid of birthing and my body was refusing to open. After a medical induction of labor, it took two hours from the first contraction to the birth. I was ready and Baby N°2 arrived like a rocket. I took her quickly to my breast, I had to have her on me as soon as possible and hold her tight. Zoé was there. Her name means Life.

We began to laugh and couldn’t stop. We were so relieved. This birth gave me strength and confidence. I felt I could climb a mountain just two hours later. I knew I had done something incredible; I was so proud and so happy (which doesn’t mean I would sign for a third birth), and had a wonderful post-partum. I sent Kathrin a picture and wrote Thank you. There were no more words needed.