For months after Jasmine’s birth, I found myself reliving that moment, sobbing uncontrollably, shaken to my core. No one prepares you for how birth can break you before it rebuilds you, how it pushes you to the edge of fear and pain, forcing you to surrender in ways you never imagined.

This is my story.

The Waiting That Felt Endless

It was a warm summer evening, January 21st when my water broke. Excitement and nervousness flooded me in equal measure. This is it. I thought my baby would be in my arms soon.

I called the hospital and they told me to wait until my contractions started before coming in. So I waited. Hours passed—still nothing. I kept hoping things would pick up on their own, but my body remained still.

A full 24 hours later, I called again. This time, their tone was different—concerned. Because my water had been broken for so long without labour starting, there was now a risk of infection. They told me to come in immediately for monitoring.

By the time I arrived, they reassured me that Jasmine was fine, but my body still wasn’t responding. No contractions, no progress. And because the fluid was still leaking, they couldn’t induce labour.

We were caught in a waiting game. Each hour stretched endlessly, a mix of hope and creeping fear settling in my chest.

By the next morning, the doctors made the call, it was time for a C-section.

I had spent months preparing for birth, hoping for a natural delivery. But in that moment, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was bringing my baby into the world safely. I whispered a quiet prayer, asking for strength.

But deep down, I was terrified.

 

The Fear of Losing Myself

Just as they were about to administer the epidural, Jason had to step out to get something. I didn’t expect to go through that moment alone. The room suddenly felt too big, too sterile. My heart pounded as they prepped me for the injection. And then—the pain.

The needle pierced my spine, sending a shock through my body. I gasped. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, an unbearable pressure that made my whole body tense. I clenched my jaw, held back tears and told myself to breathe. But inside, I was breaking.

I needed Jason. I needed someone to hold my hand, to ground me. But he wasn’t there. I had no choice but to endure it alone.

Once the epidural kicked in, the surgery began. I couldn’t feel pain, but I could feel everything—the pressure, the pulling, the eerie sensation of my body being opened.

At first, I focused on staying calm, but then I saw the look on Jason’s face, his eyes wide with fear. He was trying to be strong for me, but I could see it—he was scared.

And then, everything started spinning.

The room blurred. My body felt heavy. My breaths became shallow. A nurse’s voice cut through the haze:

“She’s losing a lot of blood. Her blood pressure is dangerously low.”

I heard the words, but they felt distant, like an echo from another world.

I remember thinking. Why is it so difficult to stay awake? Why am I feeling so heavy?

I tried to fight it, to hold on, but my body wasn’t listening. The world around me faded and for the first time in my life, I truly believed I might not make it.

 

Finding Strength in the Aftermath

I don’t remember exactly how they stabilized me. All I know is that I woke up with Jasmine in my arms.

My body was weak, but my heart was full. I had survived. We had survived.

I looked down at my daughter, this tiny, perfect soul who had no idea what we had just been through. And I sobbed. Not just from relief, but from the sheer weight of everything—the fear, the pain, the love.

For months, I found myself reliving that moment, breaking down in tears. It shook me in ways I never expected. But looking at Jasmine, I knew that every moment of fear, every second of pain, had been worth it.

 

The Strength We Don’t Know We Have

Motherhood has a way of revealing our strength, often in ways we never wanted to discover. I carry the scars of that day, both on my body and in my soul. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, but it also showed me something powerful: I am stronger than I ever imagined.

To any mother who has faced fear, uncertainty, or a birth that didn’t go as planned, you are not alone. You are stronger than you think.

 

Ps. April is Caesarean Awareness Month, a time to recognise the strength of mothers who have undergone C-sections, whether planned or unexpected. Birth doesn’t always go the way we envision, but that doesn’t make it any less powerful. A C-section is not a failure; it’s a testament to resilience, love and doing whatever it takes to bring our babies safely into the world.

To all the C-section mamas out there: You are strong. You are brave. Your birth story matters.

 

With love
Yolanda

Beauty Blogger, Perfume Lover, & Mom Extraordinaire 💖