Childbirth is meant to be a natural wonder and when it is not it is hard to not feel like you failed

Okay so before you read this one from the lovely Ruth...if you're anything like me, grab some tissues! When reading this I felt like I was right there with her, the pain, the heartache and the love but this is also the harsh reality of what can happen during childbirth.

There are many birthing teams in the UK and as Ruth mentions, the NHS are amazing, but care regionally can also differ. Whether you have a birth plan or not, sometimes it just goes a different way. Here's Ruths story to tell you more...

"I didn't do a birth plan as everybody told me nothing goes to plan when it comes to giving birth. However, I knew I ideally wanted a natural birth with only gas and air, I read and heard everywhere about the golden hour and the importance of skin to skin and I wanted to give my little one the best start with no drugs in his system.

Cutting a long and complicated labour story short, after an induction and contractions starting, I didn't need the gas and air, I was calm and on my birthing ball and ready for what was to come... then after being over stimulated with contractions from the drip they use, breaking what was left of waters (not to mention getting the hook stuck, but let's not go there!) Gas and air now being used like my life depended on it, my calm left me when they said I had not dilated anymore in the last 8 hours. At the midwifes recommendation I had the morphine injection they offered, I said I was worried about the effect this would have on the baby but they assured me it was safe. This caused me to start being sick, which didn't stop until the next day. Another 4 hours of contractions and still nothing, other than discovering they didn't get all the waters, so they had to do that again and by this point the drugs and the gas and air meant that I pretty much passed out between each contraction.

The midwife called the doctor in, who asks me what I want to do, even in my drugged up state, that seemed a strange question and I had the feeling that what I wanted this birth to be like had gone out the window a long time ago. So emergency c-section seemed like the only option left.

The operation itself was fine, then the joy of hearing that little cry, and 2 seconds later the sadness of the realisation that I would not be able to hold him, this should have occurred to me but didn't. Off he went to the corner of the room behind my head, if I strained my neck I could just see the midwives. Phil was asked if wanted to go over and see him, of course! So there I am on the table alone, the realisation that not being able to hold him was going to last for sometime. They bring him over and give him to Phil, I am so glad he is here and safe and with my husband but also feel cheated, I want to hold my son.

A few hours later, back on the ward, the nurse had finished all the bits they need to do medically and asked if I would like skin to skin, yes I almost scream. However, by this point, my son has not had anything to regulate his temperature and so it has dropped, he is cold as he lies on my chest and feeding is the last thing on his little mind. Doctors are called and the decision is taken to put him into an incubator, so I lie unable to move from the waist down with my son in a plastic box next to me, unable to hold him or touch him. Then he is taken away to the SCBU for antibiotics (I am allergic to a number of them and so they needed to give them to him direct, rather then through me during the operation.) You can get some sleep, said the midwife, or as was the case, lie there alone, feeling a strange sense of happiness and sadness, that I have never felt before in my life.

Luckily his temp came back up during the night and the next morning they say I can breastfeed, so out he comes and they lie him on my chest and... nothing... and then I started to notice that the midwives were not surprised at all at this and were very quick to tell me I should hand express. What? Why? Don't all babies know how to breastfeed? Well that is why the golden hour of skin on skin is so key, if you miss it, it is much more likely you will actually not be able to feed.

They don't tell you these risk when they talk about c-sections, they tell you the medical details but were is the preparation for how tough it is to see everyone holding your son before you, knowing that because your son didn't get skin and skin his temperature dropped dangerously low, having to accept that even with every midwife on the ward trying to help you, your son is just not going to figure out breastfeed. The preparation of sitting in the hospital room at 4am with a breast pump trying not to cry at the thought of what it was meant to like in the first few days. They don't tell you the emotional pain of having to give formula because the amount of colostrum you can express is just not enough. They don't tell you the total feeling of failure when the midwife comes in during the night and asks how much he has eaten and then saying very matter of fact, well that is not enough and takes your child off to be feed by the staff (yes this is 2019 and no I didn't give permission but was too shocked to do or say anything at the time).

The following day, being a helpful partner Phil offered to go and collect formula for me, as I was tired and sore. When he came back without the bottle he told me that the midwife had told him that he was not allowed in the milk pantry and I should ask the midwives myself. Phil was so angry as an equal partner in our relationship and now parenting why on earth is he not allowed the same access as me?

Back home a week later with time to reflect, and having spoken to my community midwives and researched online, this is so common but I had no idea. Breastfeed is so tough after an emergency section, the drugs they give you make you baby sleepy and not as responsive and the bonding takes more work.

Do I feel like I failed? Yes, to a certain extent but then also recognise that it could be a lot worse, my son was safely delieved and my husband held him and now he is home with me and safe and so loved. I would like to be breastfeeding rather than continuing the depressing process of expressing at all hours and then having to feed via a bottle and this has taken time to accept. Even though I am still exclusively feeding him breastmilk still, I worry about being out and feeding him a bottle and the judgement of someone thinking that I have not given him the best start by breastfeeding. I also reflect that I have such great support, Phil was there late at night and early in the morning, even with a 45min drive each way. He never left until I said it was ok and he reminded me that things are out of my control but our new little family was all ok. Time will pass and I am sure I will forget most of the above but I won't forget the love and support I have had and given.

The NHS is amazing and I had great medical care but as the rates of post natal depression rise, it is surprising that so little thought goes into mentally preparing pregnant ladies for the emotions when things don't go to plan and the very real effects of a c-section or other complications can take, not on the medical side but the bond with you, your partner and new baby.