Stronger than Stigma: my birth story

I envisioned myself having one child. On my morning walks past the park, I could feel the joy of pushing my future baby on the swing. I knew I would be a wonderful mother with my innate nurturing way of being. However, there was one obstacle in my way—the unknown of how my anxiety condition would manifest in this new and unfamiliar territory of parenthood. Fortunately, I had already spent years healing my inner wounds, and I felt that this was the best time to see if I was ready to conceive.

I knew conception could take time, but it happened right away. When I missed my period, I had an inner knowing that I had conceived. I remember seeing the two lines on the test, and excitement rushed through me. I called Ted, my husband, and I could hear the surprise and shock in his voice.

I felt no fear—just a deep assurance that this baby was going to be okay. At the time, I was working at a sweet childcare centre in the hinterland, where one of the parents was a midwife. I chose her to guide me through my pregnancy, and she followed me throughout the journey. Before falling pregnant, I had been practicing Ashtanga yoga, which made me feel strong in my body and prepared me for a healthy pregnancy. Pregnancy became an invitation to step deeper into my yoga therapy practice—to listen to what I needed and embrace deep rest. I spent afternoons in yoga nidra and soaked up long, restorative sleep. Thank goodness I did because, for the first 16 months with Riley, I was woken every 2-3 hours! I also experienced intense cravings for oranges—fresh, frozen, and juiced. I even dreamed of truckloads of oranges and would buy kilos at a time to satisfy my cravings.

At the time, I was seeing an integrated GP, a doctor meant to have a holistic view on health. While my pregnancy was classified as high-risk due to my anxiety condition, I knew I was in an excellent position for a healthy pregnancy. I was educated, had strong well-being practices, close support, and a balanced life. This pregnancy became a personal rebirth. The adversity I had conquered in the past transformed into my greatest spiritual growth. Yoga was my anchor—my soothing balm and guiding light. My practice helped me prepare for labor and, most importantly, let go of expectations. I wanted a natural birth without pain relief, not to prove anything to anyone, but to prove to myself that I was stronger than my mind. Having a history of obsessive-compulsive disorder with intrusive thoughts, I knew firsthand how debilitating the mind could be. But through yoga, I had learned to separate myself from my mind’s grasp.

When you are classified as high-risk, you must have more frequent check-ins with doctors. About two weeks before my due date, I saw a doctor who was patronising, careless, and judgmental. Sitting in the room with my mum, I barely got a word in as she told me I would need to be induced, that I should plan on having pain medication, and that I would likely experience postpartum depression because of my history. The only history she knew was my condition—not my strength, my resilience, or my unwavering trust in my body, mind, and spirit. Writing this now, I feel a surge of anger and deep compassion for myself—not being heard, not even being given the opportunity to speak. Moving forward, I requested not to have her as my doctor, and thankfully, my wishes were granted.

Labor was the most empowering experience of my life. My mindset was strong, and I trusted my body. On April 13th, I took a bath and noticed I was leaking fluid. I also had a fever. Unfortunately, I had to go into the hospital to get checked, as I was dehydrated. Due to the risk of infection, they asked me to return in the morning. I was home by 8 PM, and mild contractions had started. By midnight, everything was in full swing. I went to my yoga space and stayed present with each moment. By 8 AM, the contractions were powerful. We made our way to the hospital, picking up my mum along the way.

In the hospital waiting room, alongside other pregnant women, I broke down in tears with the next contraction. I was desperate to get to a room. The moment I got in, my waters broke—it was such a surreal feeling. I remembered watching cows on my childhood farm giving birth, their waters breaking just before their babies arrived.

Back and forth to the toilet, then onto the bed, into the shower—this cycle repeated all day. Ted applied acupressure to my lower back, Riley was in posterior position, so I felt it all in my back, and mum held up a wet flannel to my face with a citrus essential oil mix I had made up. I had to wear a nappy, which kept falling off! Because of the risk of infection, I couldn’t go into the bath, and I felt like I had cords everywhere. It was frustrating. At one point, exhaustion took over, and I felt like I had had enough. But that was when I had already done the hardest work. Riley was born around 4:20 PM—the most magical experience I could ever have!

As I held Riley, I was suddenly hit with horrific pain. Ted took him from me as we called for the nurses. I was losing a lot of blood. The bleeding wouldn’t stop, and I was quickly taken to surgery. A bleed had formed under my stitches. I couldn’t wait to be put to sleep so the pain would go away. I asked the nurse if I was going to die, and she assured me I wasn’t. Phew—I was ready for sleep after labor. When I woke up, I was so excited to be wheeled back into the room to see Riley and have dinner!

I loved being in the hospital with Riley. I stayed for four days and, because I was high-risk, had a private room. I knew Riley would be our only baby, so I embraced every moment—even the night wakings. I loved getting up to him. The beautiful postpartum hormones flooded through me, filling my heart with warmth and love. OCD didn’t return. I felt strong, well, and resilient. I was reborn alongside my baby.

When I returned to my holistic GP, she wanted me to come in every week. But I didn’t want to spend those precious early days in a car, going to the doctor’s office, rather than soaking in my time with Riley. She was fixated on his weight, despite him being a perfectly healthy, alert, and active baby—just a string bean, like I was as a baby. My midwife was happy with his progress. The last time I saw that holistic GP, Riley hadn’t lost weight but hadn’t gained much, and she suggested he might need formula. That’s when I scooped him up and went to get a second opinion. The new doctor reassured me that Riley was perfectly fine and encouraged me to enjoy my time at home with him.

Nearly eight years later, Riley is a healthy, energetic, and thriving—and so am I! I hope that in reading my story, you find hope if you want to have a baby. I also want you to know how important it is to speak your truth and honour your body, mind, and spirit. No one knows you better than you do.

With love, Nicole