This emotional birth story was sent in by Weronika, who came to pregnancy yoga in Dartford as preparation for her second birth. Her first birth was traumatic and left a lasting impression on her, so for her second birth she wanted a completely different experience. (As a warning, this story mentions Weronika first birth where her baby needed resuscitation but was ok and unharmed)
I’ve been wondering whether to share my story. It’s deeply personal, emotional, and completely honest. I’ll leave it up to you, Colleen, to decide whether you feel it’s something you’d like to share with the women in the group.
To begin, I think it’s important to explain why I reacted the way I did throughout this pregnancy. Six years ago, despite having a healthy, low-risk pregnancy, my first birth ended in a very traumatic induction. Labour became much more complicated than anyone expected. My daughter had to be delivered with a vacuum extractor because her heart rate kept dropping. I chose not to have any pain relief because I wanted the most natural birth possible and didn’t want anything to interfere with the process.
When she was finally born, her head was badly misshapen from the delivery, but that wasn’t what frightened me most. She wasn’t breathing and had to be resuscitated. While the medical team worked on saving my baby, I was lying on the bed being stitched up, unable to stand or even go to her. She spent almost two weeks in the NICU.
For years afterwards, I dreamed of having another baby. My husband probably wanted it even more than I did, but fear completely paralysed me. I carried so much guilt, convincing myself that somehow my body had failed my daughter.
When we finally decided to try again, I knew I wanted to prepare differently. I wanted knowledge, confidence, and a better understanding of my body. That search is what led me to you, Colleen.
I’ve never told you this before, but after my very first yoga class, I sat in my car and cried all the way home. They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of relief. For the first time in years, I felt calm. I felt hopeful. I felt safe. I knew I had found exactly where I needed to be.
My due date was 27th May, but because of everything I had learned in your classes, I didn’t become anxious when that date came and went. Instead, I trusted that my baby would arrive when she was ready.
On 3rd June I attended the hospital to discuss induction. This was actually an additional appointment because my midwife had recognised that I was struggling emotionally and felt that the trauma from my first birth was still affecting me.
That was the day I met Dr Priya.
She already knew my story and treated me with extraordinary kindness and compassion. We agreed that I would come into hospital for an induction on 6th June.
But because this hospital appointment had been arranged at short notice, I still had my routine appointment with my community midwife on 5th June.
That day, everything unravelled.
Completely overwhelmed by fear, I suddenly decided I wanted a Caesarean section instead. It was the day before my induction, and I had what I can only describe as a full panic attack.
My midwife phoned the hospital to tell them I had changed my mind. Before I had even reached my car, Dr Priya called me herself and asked if I could come back to the hospital because she wanted to talk to me. Looking back now, I honestly don’t know how she found the time or patience—but she did.
When I arrived, she greeted me with a hug. Smiling, she joked that I must really like her since we kept meeting, and as she opened the door to her office she laughed and said I was her VIP patient because I always skipped the queue. She patiently talked everything through with me again. Not once did she make me feel guilty for changing my mind. She simply reassured me that everything would be okay and promised she would be there with me. At the same time, she gave me complete freedom, telling me that if I truly wanted a Caesarean, we could absolutely do that. In the end, I followed my first instinct.
I arrived at the hospital at 3 p.m. on 6th June. The CTG showed contractions, but they weren’t regular. When the midwife examined me, I was already 2 cm dilated, so all we were waiting for was a delivery room where my waters could be broken. Then… I waited.
The entire weekend passed while I remained second on the list for a delivery room. I secretly hoped labour would begin naturally, but it never did. Finally, on Monday 8th June, everything began. At around 5 p.m., my waters were broken. Initially everything was progressing beautifully, but my contractions never became strong enough. Instead of four contractions every ten minutes, I was only having two or three, so oxytocin was started.
Throughout labour I stayed active. I used the birth ball, moved around thanks to wireless monitoring, focused on my breathing, and breathed through each contraction while my best friend—who was my birth partner—played your yoga playlist in the background. Eventually I also chose to have an epidural.
Originally I hadn’t wanted one, but whenever I’m in severe pain I vomit repeatedly, and I hoped it might help. It did for a little while, although looking back I think it simply made me feel detached from what was happening. The vomiting eventually returned anyway, and I realised afterwards that an epidural probably isn’t the right choice for me. Even so, I remained calm, focused, and positive throughout labour.
Eventually I reached full dilation and began pushing. Then everything changed. My baby passed meconium, and her heart rate started dropping. In that instant, I was back in the delivery room six years earlier. Every fear I had carried throughout this pregnancy suddenly came flooding back.
Then the door opened. Priya walked in. To this day, I call her my angel on earth. Within seconds the room filled with people, but Priya stood beside me, looked directly into my eyes, and twice said, “Look at me.” She wanted me to focus only on her instead of everything happening around us. Then she said the words I will never forget: “I won’t let history repeat itself.”
Those words gave me more strength than I knew I had. When I looked over at my best friend, she was crying. No one could have prepared her for what she was witnessing. Despite everything I gave, my daughter still had to be delivered with forceps.
And yet…
I didn’t cry.
The moment Priya placed my beautiful little girl into my arms, nothing else mattered.
There was no fear.
No pain.
Only overwhelming happiness.
For the first time, I experienced everything I had missed with my first baby.
I held her.
I looked into her eyes.
I touched her tiny umbilical cord.
I breastfed her.
I even smelled her little head. (I know that sounds strange—but every mother will understand.)
Those simple moments were everything that had been taken away from me six years earlier.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. Despite all my preparation, despite everything I had learned, my body still wasn’t able to give birth the way I had hoped. Sometimes I still wonder if my body simply isn’t capable of giving birth naturally. Maybe one day I’ll understand why. Maybe I won’t. But I’m learning that healing isn’t about getting every answer. It’s about finding peace with the questions.
If there’s one thing I’d like another frightened mother to take from my story, it’s this: Fear after birth trauma is real. It can make you question everything. After Emilia was born, I even refused to take a shower because that would have meant letting someone else hold her for a few minutes. I wanted her beside me every second. Even when my husband held her, I couldn’t close my eyes. I kept reminding him not to let anyone take her away and that if anyone needed to examine her, it had to be while one of us was present. For the first week after she was born, my husband and I took turns simply watching her sleep, holding her close, and soaking in every single moment. Only then did we realise just how much we had missed with our first daughter during those weeks in NICU. Babies change so quickly in those first days, and this time we were able to witness every tiny moment together.
Our beautiful Emilia was born on 9th June at 5:47 a.m., weighing 3,220 grams. Before midnight that same day, we were home together. After almost two days without sleep, I finally closed my eyes—for three precious hours.
Today, when I look back, I realise something that I couldn’t see at the time. Yoga didn’t give me the perfect birth. It gave me something much more important.
It gave me the courage to trust myself again.
And although my birth didn’t go exactly as I had hoped, this time my story ended with my daughter safe in my arms. For that, I will always be grateful.
