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I am powerless to protect my child. I catch a quick glimpse of him as he is prematurely pulled from my body. He is hurriedly handed over to the neonatology team, who rush him out of the operating theatre towards the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. My dazed husband follows in their wake.
I am suddenly alone. The life that has grown inside of me has been taken away. I don’t know what is happening to him or if I will ever see him again.
I have to forcibly pull myself back to the present. I am at home, safe in my bed with my husband by my side. Our now one-year-old son is sleeping peacefully in his nursery. And yet, I am covered in a cold sweat and my heart is pounding. My whole body is rigid with the tension that has engulfed me and I am despondent that it is yet another night in which these intrusive memories have taken hold of me.
My son was born at 28 weeks gestation, via an emergency caesarean, when I developed a life-threatening pregnancy complication. The first year of his life I spent in survival mode, focusing on keeping him alive and healthy. Months in the NICU, surgery, endless specialist appointments, hospital readmissions, failure to thrive, struggling to breastfeed. But now, one year on, things had finally settled down and life was returning to normal.
I had nothing left to worry about. My son was alive and well. I was full of joy and contentment. Life was wonderful! And yet, though I tried to ignore it, there was anxiety and distress lurking in the darkness. Whenever I let my thoughts wander, they immediately returned to the birth. Endlessly sifting through the memories.
Top Comments
The term "birth trauma" is troubling in this context. The author had a complication which necessitated bub to be delivered early via c-section. Bub was unwell on delivery; an understandably stressful time. The author and bub were cared for well and compassionately.
I totally understand why the author may be suffering PTSD from the stress of an emergency delivery and uncertainty of having a vulnerable, unwell newborn. But that's not "birth trauma". Calling it "traumatic" actually creates an extra stigma when the author already has enough on her plate to deal with.
How can you understand why she may be suffering PTSD, but then object to the use of the term 'trauma'? That's what the T in PTSD stands for...
I have found that being able to label my traumatic experience as such has actually helped me deal with the very real ramifications of it. It hasn't felt like a stigma at all. But this type of reaction would make me feel, as the author feared, 'weak or melodramatic'.
The term "birth trauma" is most commonly used by women who feel their body and rights were violated during the birthing process - for example, unnecessary invasive examinations and procedures, not having their wishes respected or heard etc etc. This too can lead to PTSD. Many of these women express their experience as being akin to rape, in the respect to the power dynamics and disrespectful way in which their bodies are objectified and invaded.
The author here experienced a lot of trauma (which has totally understandably led to long-lasting effects), but it wasn't "birth trauma" per se. Given that she has enough legitimate issues to work through, I simply feel that aligning with the "birth trauma" label is something that probably adds to her load, rather than lessening it.
I know it can be challenging for people who have not experienced the early premature birth situation to relate or comprehend. But what you wrote, seems to me, a contradiction in terms. I suspect you feel that 'birth trauma' means only physical birth injury/ies. That is far from the definition. From the Australasian Birth Trauma Association: 'Firstly, birth trauma can be the result of physically damaging birth processes which then result in life-changing psychological and social difficulties. Secondly, birth trauma can be a result of psychological problems arising from the circumstances of the delivery (e.g. “wrong” location; pre-term; support people not present) or the process (e.g. labour too quick, prolonged, inadequate pain relief; feeling of loss of control; emergency caesarean section; concerns about survival of baby or self). And finally, an ‘uneventful’ or satisfactory delivery from a health professionals point of view (mother and baby well; no physical complications), may be traumatising for the woman as she feels unsupported or even misunderstood by the health professionals.'
Thanks for the clarification. I wasn't picking up on the phrase as opposed to the single word.