No not my birth. I don’t remember that. I miss Cass’s birth. But it was mine, it was the most mine thing I’ve ever had or done. I may have ended up in theatre, numb from the waist down with thirty medical professionals surrounding me but I still think of it as my achievement. The longing I feel for that time – those last moments of pregnancy, the transition from pregnant to parent – is a deep ache that I hadn’t anticipated at all. And although there’s a part of me that is definitely feeling a brood again, it’s not necessarily wanting a second child. It’s this strange and confusing need to revisit that scene, when Cass came into our world. I had the most intense sense of purpose and, although I’ve always always wanted children, I didn’t know just how powerful that new meaning in life would be. It blew me away.
I’ve been watching One Born Every Minute and thinking about my future a lot. From the second I met our student midwife I felt a niggle in the back of mind telling me ‘You could do that!’ but having started and not finished a few different professional training courses I didn’t want to run into anything too hastily. However, my favourite jobs have always been those in which I get to work directly with people, helping and supporting young people and families. I think it’s time for me to return to a position in that gives me that purpose again. I might never be able to recreate the magic and awe that struck me a year ago at Cass’s birth but I can certainly be there for other women and help them feel the energy and strength that labour gave me. I know it doesn’t work that way for every woman and the number of new mums with PTSD from traumatic births is probably higher than we even realise. But my experience had panic, trauma and lots of blood and I would, without a doubt, do it all over again. Every woman deserves to miss her birth, I want to help make that happen.
I’ve got a plan, but unlike my birthing plan, I think this one might work out 🙂