Why I'm opening up about the trauma of my difficult childbirth
Giving birth led to PTSD for Sara DuBreuil. Sharing her experience is helping her heal
This First Person article is the experience of Sara DuBreuil, a producer with CBC Montreal. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
I never imagined that I would need therapy to process my daughter's birth.
From the moment my husband, Matt, and I found out we were expecting a girl, we named her Cecilia and started daydreaming about meeting her. I couldn't wait for her to be placed on my chest and have that first snuggle. I believed my daughter's birth day would be the best day of my life.
But that's not how it played out.
Instead, it was traumatic and, even though my daughter and I are both healthy now, I've spent the first year of her life coming to terms with what happened.
I'd never heard of birth trauma before, but I'm learning many women have lived it.
Up to 45 per cent of new mothers report experiencing a traumatic childbirth, according to a 2018 study published in The Journal of Perinatal Education.
It's difficult to pin down the exact number of women in Canada who've been traumatized during childbirth.
"It often goes unacknowledged, undertreated and underdiagnosed", said Rosa Caporicci, a licensed psychotherapist specializing in reproductive mental health. She is also the person I turned to for help recovering from my own experience.
I've decided to speak out about my birth trauma in hopes of normalizing the experience for other parents.
A difficult entry into the world
The day Cecilia was born, June 14, began with an incredible sunrise. I asked Matt to photograph it because we were just hours away from meeting our girl, and I wanted to document the beautiful morning.
I started pushing not long after that and that's when, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
Cecilia's heart rate dropped, and the doctor said they had to get her out immediately. She had swallowed a significant amount of meconium, which is a baby's first stool. If it's released while still in the womb, it can cause health problems. Also, Cecilia's umbilical cord was around her neck.
Seconds after birth, Cecilia was surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses who cleared her lungs before moving her to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). My strongest memories from Cecilia's birth day are not beautiful. They are painful.
I barely got a glimpse of her before she was wheeled to the NICU.- Sara DuBreuil
I'll never forget the brief instant that she spent on me before the doctors scooped her up. Her colouring was off, and she did not look healthy. I couldn't see her while she was with the medical team. I kept asking, "Is she okay?"
I barely got a glimpse of her before she was wheeled to the NICU. Then I spent hours separated from her — getting stitches, unable to walk, and not knowing how she was doing. I felt pain in every inch of my body when a doctor told me that the next 24 hours were critical because he could not guarantee she would make it through the night.
When I met Cecilia, she was in an incubator, intubated and covered in wires. She lacked oxygen at birth and needed to spend 72 hours on a cooling mat in order to mitigate brain injury.
We could touch her, talk and sing to her, but I couldn't hold her close to comfort her in the way that my body craved. We held her for the first time five days later, but had to spend nights away from her. Her first two weeks of life were spent in the hospital, undergoing tests and treatments.
All of this left me traumatized, though it would take time before I truly understood that.
Birth trauma is common, according to psychotherapist
In the first months after Cecilia's birth, I was in what my therapist calls "survival mode." Cecilia kept me busy and I was enjoying our summer together but I started having trigger moments.
When a friend was in labour and it went long, I felt intense anxiety. I worried she too would miss out on a beautiful birth. I also started having flashbacks to Cecilia's birth, images that would leave me feeling heavy, especially around the 14th of every month.
A friend helped connect me to therapist Rosa Caporicci. But I felt embarrassed about it. After all, everything had turned out okay for us, and I am acutely aware of how much worse things are for some families. I felt ashamed that I was stuck and needed help moving on, but Caporicci assured me I wasn't alone.
"I think that even in 2021, we have this mistaken notion that pregnancy [and] having babies is always a joyful event, and that does not begin to address the reality on the ground," Caporicci said.
After beginning therapy, I started sharing with more people that my experience giving birth was traumatic. I've lost count of the number of people who've replied, "Mine was too," or have told me a friend or family member had a similar experience.
I've since been thinking about why these difficult stories are only shared with women after they've given birth. In my birth class, the emphasis was placed on the moment I'd meet and bond with my baby, and I wasn't prepared for the various other scenarios that could happen.
Caporicci says this romanticization of childbirth isn't helpful and that we have to stop sending the message that labour and delivery are only ever beautiful.
"If we are purporting to empower women, it is incumbent upon us to tell the whole story. Not in terms of fear mongering, but that this is a certain experience, that this may happen and more importantly, should it happen, there are supports out there."
Reframing my story and moving forward
Caporicci has been one of my supports. Together, we worked on reframing Cecilia's birth story by focusing on the good moments, like seeing her blue eyes for the first time. She also had me think about when I felt proud of Matt and myself for how we handled those unexpectedly difficult early days of parenthood.
Sharing my story has also been healing. It's led to deeper conversations and has opened up space for more people to share their stories with me. All these stories deserve to be heard and normalized.
Caporicci says other former clients are also speaking out within their circles. She says that owning and sharing our stories is a sign of post-traumatic growth. For me, it's empowering and it's changing the way I feel about Cecilia's birth day.
June 14 will always come with painful memories but as we approach Cecilia's first birthday, that's not my focus. Instead, I'm thinking about the medical professionals who saved her life and about the support and love we received from family and friends. Most importantly, I'm thankful that Cecilia is here with us, everyday.
About the producers
This documentary was co-produced and edited by Shari Okeke.