I carry my story wearing many hats; pride, sorrow, anger, awareness, loneliness. Simultaneous happiness and sadness, grief, and trauma. I’m sure there’s more, but by now, you might get the idea.

I am an incredibly proud mum to three beautiful souls; two sons and a daughter. A daughter and son who I adore here in this world with me whilst my love for my eldest son is sent to him in heaven.

Becoming a mum has been the most incredible blessing, but I never could have imagined or prepared myself for how much it has hurt.

The journey started as a young couple in love, newlyweds with the naive expectation to fall pregnant after the first time trying. A honeymoon baby; what a dream. It can’t be that hard right? Fast forward through a challenging two years and the reality of infertility had crept up on us. We were knocking at the door of In Vitro Fertilization (IVF), begging for a blessing. Myself aged 24 and my husband 27, I never imagined this would be our only path. The path that led us to that point had collected some sharp rocks, the ones you inevitably stub your toe on. Endometriosis, Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) and a low sperm count were the leading factors. 

We knocked on that IVF door hard and after our first round of Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection (ICSI) IVF we got the news we’d been longing for so long; we were pregnant! Falling pregnant was the greatest blessing of all. I felt as if I could never be lonely and I dreamt of what our future would look like. Like most, we felt anxious until we passed the 12 week mark. As each week passed by, excitement overwhelmed us and we believed we were well and truly in the “safe zone” until one day our world fell apart. 

Our son was born prematurely into the world at 21 weeks and 4 days gestation due to an incompetent cervix. He was born too premature to survive and passed away after his birth as he laid on my chest. Our hearts broke and our innocence vanished as we held our lifeless baby boy. Although our hearts were filled with love for him, we knew our world would never be the same, we would never be the same. I was a new mum which I was so proud of but I wasn’t celebrated in the way I nor my son deserved.

There has always been such a distinct timeline in life from that point on. There is the ‘before’ our son’s birth and the ‘after’. The ‘after’ brought with it my first experience with postnatal anxiety and depression, a profound emptiness and a completely different version of myself and one that has taken time and effort to love and appreciate again after feeling so incredibly failed by my own body.

The decision to try and conceive again came with a lot of guilt and mixed emotions. I didn’t feel like there was ever going to be a “right time” so a few months later we saw ourselves doing IVF again which thankfully was successful after another full ICSI IVF round.

Being pregnant again after losing our son was far from enjoyable. I wasn’t naive to what could happen and what risks I faced. The panic attacks intensified, I felt on edge constantly and genuinely scared to do anything. At 7 weeks gestation I had as small amount off spotting and was diagnosed with a subchoronic haemotoma after spending the day in emergency. The anxiety and paranoia from that point increased to an unmanageable volume despite medication and therapy. I became so fatigued from the lack of sleep from the nightmares, panic attacks during my sleep and the constant state of debilitating anxiety. Despite my efforts of being proactive in caring for my mental health I just couldn’t seem to find any reprieve from the levels of distress that were consuming me which also affected how I connected with my baby during my pregnancy.

 From 18 weeks gestation I began to have cervical changes during my pregnancy. My advocating wasn’t heard and my requests were being pacified and dismissed. Each fortnight that passed heightened the anxiety until I neared 24 weeks and reached a viable gestation, something I wouldn’t have known about had we not had our first child prematurely before viability.

 At my 24 week ultrasound measurements showed that I had 5mm of cervix left, which was the exact same measurement I had when we discovered my short cervix with my first pregnancy. A few hours later I was flown with Royal Flying Doctor Service to a hospital four hours away from home and was put on bed rest.

Every day that passed while I was on bed rest was a win. The goal was to make it to 26 weeks and I did. Our daughter was born weighing 860g via emergency caesarean. She was taken straight to Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) after she entered the world. Her start to life was traumatic. We were separated straight away so she could receive the life saving intervention she needed. In the first few hours of her life she received blood, plasma and platelet transfusions to advanced intubation support and other forms of medication to support her critical respiratory distress. It was a long 6 hours before we got to meet my daughter. I was in so much shock I didn’t know what or how to feel. Looking at her you couldn’t see all of her because of the various leads, tubes coming off of her. Nonetheless she was beautiful and she was here and our NICU journey had just begun. 

Life in NICU was so far removed from any reality I could have imagined. We spent a total of four and a half months in hospital with our daughter. Reflecting on those days, I experienced some of the hardest days of my life but also some of the best. Our daughter fought so incredibly hard each and everyday and it’s hard to comprehend everything that she went through and everything we had to experience as her parents. She truly is my biggest inspiration in life.

My battles with postnatal anxiety and depression felt like a full blown war after finally taking our baby daughter home. Panic attacks and intrusive thoughts plagued my day to day. She came home on oxygen therapy and even though we’d finally left the walls of hospital it felt impossible to shake what we’d been through in the months prior. I wore my proud mum mask but inside I was crumbling. This was the point that I was referred to Gidget Foundation Australia and thankfully received the support I so desperately needed.

Gidget Foundation Australia and my incredible Gidget Clinician became my village, I felt heard and safe and began the steps towards a long journey of healing. The first few years of my daughter’s life were incredibly hard medically, and also whilst trying to show up for her in the way she needed with all the additional trauma that was suffocating me.

Over time and with the learnt coping habits and a whole lot of therapy, resilience and courage shone through and we embraced another journey of IVF which thankfully led us to our next chapter of pregnancy.

After what we’d been through with both our son and daughter, I struggled to feel any excitement towards our third pregnancy with another baby boy. I felt numb and was constantly waiting for the worst. I didn’t expect to make it past 26 weeks but thankfully with the help of a transabdominal cervical stitch I made it to full term.

Our son was born into the world via caesarean at 37 weeks and 4 days gestation. He was my third baby but my first that I heard cry and that moment brings me so much happiness but equal sadness at the same time.

I had such a vision and expectation of how I wanted my postpartum journey to look the third time around, especially when I’d made it to full term and it felt like all my wishes were in reach. All the little things I wanted felt like such big parts in my journey of healing. But unfortunately none of them came true.

Shortly after his birth we were separated and he was taken to NICU for respiratory distress. This felt too much to bare; to be separated yet again from my baby was heartbreaking and so painful. No part of me was prepared to experience a NICU journey again and the unexpectedness of it was unravelling. 

There was such deep sorrow and grieving from being separated from my baby, it felt all too familiar from what I experienced with my first two and all of the uncomfortable traumas and memories that I had worked through over the years came crashing back.

Instead of bonding with my baby by my side and leaning into the postpartum chapter I once again began pumping breastmilk for tube feeds and pushing myself to be up and walking the corridors of the hospital to go see my baby. There are so many deep layers of pain from having had to experience the NICU with my son, even though it was far less medically involved than what we experienced with daughter. 

On day three of my son’s life and my postpartum recovery, I woke up with debilitating abdominal pain unlike anything I’d ever felt. Fast forwarding throughout the day saw me bed ridden in agony and unable to move from my bed to see my baby. After fainting from the pain I was experiencing and undergoing a handful of tests and scans, the next morning I learnt what was wrong. I had internal bleeding; an unfortunate rare complication from having my transabdominal cervical stitch removed after the birth. Shortly after learning this I had a second laparotomy. 

I lost 1.5L of blood and I woke up in recovery with a nasal gastric tube, an abdominal drain to remove blood and a burning c-section wound that had been reopened for the surgery. In the days that followed I needed blood transfusions and I was so weak and unwell that I had long periods of time where I didn’t see my son. Dissociation cloaked me in its armour, but instead of protecting me, it made me numb to everything, including my bonding with my son.

This part of my life feels like it was the catalyst for my next difficult journey; another struggle with postnatal depression and anxiety and processing more trauma.

After two weeks we were finally discharged and began the four home trip home. Returning home with our son sadly didn’t bring happiness, there was definitely relief but I felt so robbed of what I thought we were going to experience, it was hard to soak up anything else.

Postnatal depression and anxiety (PNDA) the third time around came with so much weight. I knew what I was experiencing was PNDA after my previous battles but there was still a part of me trying to deny what I was feeling and to pretend everything was fine, which it really wasn’t.

I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. There were days of crying, hating the way that I felt and feeling so incredibly helpless even with all the knowledge I had with different ways to help myself. I couldn’t understand how my family and I could be faced with more trauma, I felt so angry with how unfair life could be and it’s difficult to find the words to capture the distress and pain that I was feeling. 

With the continued support of Gidget Foundation Australia and the tools I’ve learnt to support myself over the years, PNDA is a part of me and my journey but it doesn’t suffocate me like it had. It’s been a battle that has left many wounds and reshaped me as a woman, mother, wife and friend many times. The support that I’ve received has given me the strength to fight for the life I have with my family, a gift I will be forever grateful for.