Birth trauma didn’t take my life, but it changed it forever.

It cost me the beginning of my daughter’s life. Instead of holding her in my arms after she was born, I met her through a FaceTime call from recovery.

Those first moments, the ones I’d dreamed about throughout my pregnancy, were replaced by fear, shock and separation.

It cost me the early days of motherhood. While others describe falling instantly in love with their baby, I was consumed by trauma. I couldn’t bond with my daughter. I didn’t want to be around her, and the guilt of feeling that way almost broke me.

It cost me precious time with my son, too. He was only two and a half years old when his sister was born. Instead of being fully present as he adjusted to becoming a big brother, I was battling PTSD, depression and overwhelming anxiety. So much of that time is clouded by survival mode. I was physically there, but mentally I was fighting a battle that nobody could see.

It cost me my mental health. Within days, I spiralled into severe postnatal depression. I was later admitted to a psychiatric hospital to finally receive the help I desperately needed. Three years later, I still live with PTSD, ongoing anxiety, and the lasting effects of birth trauma. I continue therapy, EMDR and medication.

It cost my family more than people realise. My husband didn’t just witness a traumatic birth—he watched the aftermath unfold. He carried the weight of supporting a traumatised partner while caring for two young children. The joyful newborn bubble that so many families talk about was replaced with crisis management and survival.

It cost me my sense of safety. Hospitals, medical procedures, pregnancy and birth are no longer things I associate with joy. They are reminders of the day everything changed.

And perhaps the greatest cost was invisible. It stole moments that can never be recreated—the first hours with my daughter, the excitement of introducing her to her big brother, the chance to begin our life as a family of four without trauma overshadowing everything.

Birth trauma didn’t end when my daughter was born. It followed me home. It followed me into motherhood, into parenting, into my marriage, into my identity and into every part of my life.

Three years later, I am still healing. That is what birth trauma cost me.