This blog post has been written by N, who wanted to share her birth story as a reminder that even when things don’t go to plan, birth can still be a calm and positive experience. Her experience highlights the importance of compassionate care, feeling informed and supported throughout, and how trust in your birth team can make all the difference, even in high-risk or unexpected situations.
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On 28th February, I was in hospital for a routine appointment. I was already on blood pressure meds from 32 weeks, but there’d been no red flags. That day in hospital, though, everything changed. My BP had rocketed to 191/115, and my placenta levels had dropped. That’s when they confirmed it: pre-eclampsia.
The team acted quickly but calmly. The plan was to induce me gently. I was given one gel and started feeling a horrible headache by the evening, paracetamol came to the rescue around 7 p.m. and again at 2 a.m. Despite the discomfort, things were moving. By 3 a.m., they broke my waters even though I was just 1cm dilated.
From 3 to 6 a.m., I laboured with a midwife by my side the entire time, I wasn't left alone for a moment. In hindsight, I realise that wasn’t just lovely care; it was vital care. My blood pressure kept creeping up and that headache? Relentless. Later, I learned the pain relief may have actually helped ease my BP a bit, which feels strangely reassuring on reflection
The turning point came around 6 a.m., when the doctor explained, gently but firmly, that active labour was no longer safe for me. I was at risk of stroke, seizure, even heart attack. Continuing could’ve put baby in serious danger too. They explained that, although it would be classed as an emergency C-section on paper, it was technically planned. They weren’t rushing, but they were absolutely ready. Although things were changing quickly, I never once felt rushed into making a decision around my care — something I feel really lucky about. My care team had been amazing throughout the process so far, so I was confident in their advice, and I was prepped for surgery.
I was wheeled round into theatre, where I was greeted by the stroke team, heart team, C-section surgeons, and NICU team. There was a calm confidence in the room that honestly made me feel safe. I wasn’t scared. I trusted them. In fact, I think I was in a bit of shock because I didn’t feel nervous at all.
At 6:26 a.m., my son arrived, 4lb 14oz of absolute perfection. He only needed a heated mat for a few hours, no incubator. That in itself felt like a small miracle.
Afterwards, I was in the high-risk room until about 3 p.m. It’s basically a theatre room, but the bonus? No visiting time limits. My birth partner could stay with me as long as we wanted, and honestly, that was such a gift. The post-birth phase was chilled. I was given pain meds to take home but never used them. I was up, walking, going to the toilet and even had a shower within 12 hours. I surprise even myself sometimes.
Over the next three days, nurses supported us every three hours until he got the hang of feeding and latched on. We went home on 4th March, and it felt amazing to be leaving with my little boy.
It really was all pretty quick. But it was also incredibly serious, something I’m thankful I only fully understood later. My midwife told me she rang to check I was okay when she saw my notes, because the situation was that intense. I appreciate so deeply now how gently they handled it at the time. They didn’t overwhelm me with how “at risk” I truly was. They just kept me steady, informed, and in control.
One thing I didn’t expect: the wave of nausea I had while lying flat doing skin-to-skin in theatre. Apparently, completely normal. Thank you, anaesthesia!
Now, looking back, the stress fades into the background. The relief of having my son here and safe outweighs everything else. I didn’t realise how close we’d come to crisis, but I’m endlessly thankful for the calm, capable people who carried us through it.