“I didn’t have PPD, I had ‘new mum rage'” – Bria’s story

We were over the moon the day we found out we were pregnant with our beautiful little boy. After years of trying and then subsequently giving up and deciding to live our lives childless but still rich and full, we had been blessed with a surprise. It was April 2020, and even though that line was faint, my body was telling me, ‘This is it.’

We were overjoyed and contacted our parents instantly to let them know, being unable to hold back our joy. Afterwards, I took a few minutes to mourn the life I had reimagined for us – travelling overseas on a whim, late nights dancing, restaurants whenever the moment felt right – then I got straight back into the joy of finally becoming a mum.

My partner listened to podcasts, I read blogs and websites and participated in online baby courses as it was still during the Covid pandemic. We talked about the kinds of parents we would be, confirmed and reconfirmed our beliefs and morals on which we would raise this being and how we wanted them to see and think about the world and people around them. It was electrifying.

Again, this was 2020, so shortly, I would come to a big decision about vaccination. I weighed my pros and cons; this was a new vaccination, and anything was possible. After talking with my GP and partner, I decided to go ahead with the vaccination no matter the outcome, as I rationalised that it was better to protect the host and hope for the survival of my baby than risk both. I was shocked going into the vaccination hub to find not many other local pregnant women had opted to vaccinate at this time. I am so thankful today I talked about it and made my decision.

My OB appointments were simple enough, and everything seemed good, which was a relief. I am by no means a petite young lady, so I was worried about many things I had read, but each time, I was reassured that I was doing everything I could to help and protect my baby.

As I was on the bigger side, I attempted the NIPT test, but unfortunately, it failed twice, leading me again to think about the fact I could have a baby with any known developmental or underlying physical issues, and I was rolling the dice. But something told me everything would be ok.

At the 20-week scan, we finally found out the sex of our soon-to-be 3^rd wheel – a boy! The last 6 years of trying and many years beforehand thinking of having a baby, my thoughts had always leaned towards wanting a girl until the day I found out I was pregnant. That day, I turned to my husband and said, “I hope it’s a boy”, to which he agreed. That scan made us more excited than before, a boy! A perfect little boy to join our family. My husband literally leapt off the couch in the scan room and yelled for joy as I tried to hide my embarrassment from the technician but also relished the moment.

From then on it was a mix of appointments, check-ups and planning. But if you are reading this and have a child, or if you’re a superhero and have children, you know that planning for anything involving a child is most of the time a good waste of time. 

When you are set to have a baby, your OB or health practitioner or all the reading material you go through will tell you to make a plan about the birth and what you want – positions, drugs, interventions ect etc. If you’re wondering what my plan was, it was simple, we all go home healthy and happy. And for the most part, we got that.

At 38 weeks and 2 days, we attended our local hospital after our bundle of joy decided to stop moving, which had happened in the past. The OB and the midwives decided that enough was enough and they scheduled us to return in two days’ time for an induction. My husband and I were so excited to finally meet our little boy.

It was Sunday, 19^th December 2020, and this is where the story really begins.

We started with the balloon catheter, a joyful experience to none, and although I knew there would be discomfort, I was not prepared for the pain I experienced. I tried to push through, but eventually, I mentioned to the midwife looking out for us about the pain. She investigated by contacting the OB, who had left for the day, and they concluded that they had put the maximum saline amount in and that they could take some out to relieve the pain. At this point, it had been 6 hours and I decided to leave it as I believed it would only help move things along faster.

The next day was the 20^th of December 2022, the day that would change my life and my husband’s life forever. The balloon catheter was removed at 2cm dilated, and the induction drugs began. I was so excited and ready for the months of waiting to finally be over, with so much enthusiasm and joy that I had no idea what was ahead of me for the next 10+ hours.

Every time the drugs tried to be increased, my son’s BP would bottom out, meaning the drugs would be reduced or stopped for a bit, before trying again. This went on and on. In the meantime, at around lunchtime, I began to experience small contractions. I had opted previously for an epidural, so by 2pm I was ready for it. A lovely young lass came down and explained to me the pros and cons and how to sit for the procedure – edge of the bed, feet on a chair flat, bent over as far as I could holding my partner’s hands for balance. The idea of a needle going anywhere near my spine obviously I knew it would hurt, but I was not prepared. The first 3 attempts completed by this lovely lady resulted in the same nerve being hit 3 times and the head of anaesthesiology was called to complete the epidural. On the first try, again hitting the same nerve; after this, they opted to put the epidural higher in my back and on the first try and 5^th attempt all up we finally had success. 

We were back on some sort of track; the drugs would begin, and my son’s BP would drop out, so we would stop-start, this went on until about 5pm, and then we had a visit from the OB, and our options were given to us, we could:

1. Continue for the next 3 hours on the drugs, which to this point had not been successful, or
2. We could go in for a Caesarean.

I asked how far I had dilated as I thought we should keep going if we were almost there. Only 3 centimetres. All those hours and I had only gained 1 centimetre since the catheter. We had a pretty simple answer but I wanted to make sure my husband and I were on the same page after a day of having nonstop people in and out, we were finally given 5 minutes alone to discuss our options, and finally, the days emotions came flooding in and I burst into tears. Not for pain or sadness or fear but because I was finally able to let my guard down for the first time in over 24 hours. My husband and I agreed to move forward with the caesarean as we were over waiting to meet our little guy.

We rolled into the operating room so ready and prepared. I have my husband on one side and a lovely anaesthesiologist on the other side. Then all this happened:

• • The operating sheet went up, and they began to cut into me, this is the point where I noticed in the lights above I could see very clearly what they were doing as the sheet was not pulled high enough. I saw them cutting through my skin, and I start shaking, and the anaesthesiologist asked what was wrong. After I explain she calls to the nurses to lift the curtain higher – this is the point where one nurse mentions, out loud, this is the third time it had happened that week.

• • As they are cutting through my uterus, I begin to scream, and again the anaesthesiologist asks me the matter, and I explain that I can feel the scalpel cutting into me. She yells stop and gives me a second round of anaesthetic and we give it a few minutes and try again – nope, still pain, third round of anaesthetic.

• • Finally, our son is here, he is born – with the cord wrapped around his throat twice. No wonder his BP kept dropping, right?

• • While my husband is off cutting the cord, I begin to experience breathing issues. The reason is that my epidural was put higher in my back and I had at this point, had 3 rounds of anaesthetic to complete the caesarean. The lovely anesthesiologist sat with me, holding my hand and stroking my hair to calm me down.

• • My son was finally placed upon my chest to gaze upon with love and affection… for about 2 minutes before my stomach began to turn and I had to ask my husband to remove him from my chest so I could vomit.

• • Finally leaving the operating room with my son on my chest, I am flying high, trying to forget the last 45minutes and as we are leaving, the junior surgeon comes up to me almost in tears, rambling about trying to do a stitch, but it not holding and me being far too out of it to care what she is saying. What she is actually telling me is that she forgot they had broken my water and when she cut through the placenta, she cut too deep and cut the side of my sons face in his sideburn, a few millimetres from his ear.