Ella’s story
During late pregnancy, I began itching so had blood tests for obstetric cholestasis (OC). These initially came back clear and I was left to get on with it. A week later on my due date (18th December) I received a phone call asking me to go into hospital. The doctor told me that I did in fact have OC and they needed to get my baby out very soon due to the risk of stillbirth. (Normally, if you have OC they like to get the baby out around 37 weeks, so I was very worried.) They booked me in for induction on December 24th at 10am.
At 7am on Christmas Eve, I arrived at the hospital with my baby not moving and I felt very anxious. After explaining to reception why I was early, three different members of staff came and told me, “Don’t you realise you're not booked in till 10am?” They left me waiting two-and-a-half hours in the waiting room. (I presumed that they either didn’t have room for me or that maybe they thought I was just saying it to get an induction sooner, so left me waiting on purpose.)
They thankfully found a heartbeat and broke my waters at 3pm. I was using gas and air but with it being a back-to-back labour I just wasn’t coping with the pain. I asked for Pethidine. They told me No and that I needed an epidural. I’m not sure why they pushed for it so much but I had one (unwillingly) as they were pretty adamant. I was also put on a hormone drip as I wasn’t progressing. Around 5am on Christmas Day, I started pushing. I couldn't feel a thing. My baby’s heart rate started to drop and an emergency Ventouse delivery was needed.
The doctors came in and there was a sense of panic in the room. I was told there was a resuscitation centre in the corner of the room as my legs were lifted into stirrups. The obstetrician then said, “I'm going to cut you now.” And that was it, no choice, no time to process it and as I was voicing my opinion (“No please don’t!”) it was already done. I felt so violated and completely out of control. His head and body were dragged out from inside me as I lay there unable to move. I felt like a failure.
When he was born, he wasn’t crying and I thought he was dead. They took him to the resuscitation centre (thankfully only to suck mucus out of his throat) for about five mins, which felt like a lifetime. The whole time I was in a panic, not knowing if he was actually going to be OK.
I got a brief hold before being taken off to theatre as I’d suffered a third-degree tear (even with the episiotomy I didn't consent to). I felt as if I was being unwillingly drugged and had no strength to ask what they were doing to me as I felt the fluid spreading through my veins. They never told me what they were giving me or the effects it would have on me. I saw the reflection of the work being done down below, followed by lots of bright lights, blurry faces and distant voices. I then saw nothing but darkness and carried on dipping in and out of consciousness the whole time. It’s all very blurry and I missed out on bonding with my baby. For weeks after the birth I didn’t believe he was mine or that he had a name. He was just “the baby”.
My trauma is due to feelings of violation, intrusion and being out of control. These were all heavily impacted by the epidural that I didn’t want, the episiotomy that I didn’t consent to and the high levels of medical intervention.
