Two Births, Two Traumas: Just Another Day On The NHS

It’s 2010, and I’m expecting my first baby. A baby girl who I loved from the first moment I knew she existed. I'm an Englishwoman, and I put my trust in the NHS. Regular midwife appointments; the whole nine yards all women go through. Imagine ten packs of sugar coming out your backside with the force of a car engine. It's a little intimidating.

Baby 1: A Cascade of Missed Warning Signs

All was looking well until around the eight month mark, when I ballooned, and looked as if I were carrying twins. My normal size six feet swelled up so badly I had to shop for new shoes. Even a size nine wouldn’t fit me, because I was that puffed up with fluid. My midwife didn’t seem too interested, stating it was normal every time I mentioned it. As it went on, I looked as if I were carrying triplets, not just twins.

I asked to be sent for a growth scan, and at 37 weeks they sent me for one. My baby was only measuring 6lb, which they claimed was normal and sent me away.

I ended up being allowed to go past my due date by 11 days, until they induced me. The first day I showed up to my appointment at the hospital, I was left on a ward waiting for eight hours, and then they came and asked me to come back the next morning as they were too busy. 

The next morning I arrived back at the hospital, very frustrated, in pain and waddling, now 12 days over my due date. They quickly got me into a private room on the maternity ward and gave me my first pessary to try to get things started. The nurses on that ward were abrupt, and left you feeling as if you were a burden. 

Eventually, they hooked me up to a drip containing a drug called Pitocin. This is a horrifying drug but it definitely had the desired effect. The pain was absolutely horrendous, but you expect that in labour so you don’t think too much of it, especially when it’s your first child with nothing to compare it to. I was eventually moved to the labour suite where the midwives seemed much nicer. I begged for an epidural. It took two hours to arrive, with the hospital only having one anaesthetist. Once I’d been given the epidural I was able to relax, however for some reason, every time they would examine me, the epidural would stop working and the anaesthetist would have to come back and “top me up”.

Every time, I was spoken to as if I were a nuisance. You know, that woman. Overreacting, and being hysterical. I had five epidural "top ups" in total, and eventually I was begging for them to send me for a C-section.

They called for a doctor after I begged.

The doctor agreed, as my baby’s heart rate was becoming weak. But not before they took my nail varnish off my toes! I was tutted at for having it on, and the midwife slowly removed it as I screamed in pain. Then I signed something. I don’t know what. I was blind at this point with the amount of pain I was in. 

They wheeled me to theatre to the sound of alarms going off. They were for me. It seems ironic now with how slow they’d been at getting me prepared. Baby's Dad was asked to go and get changed into theatre clothing. I was screaming in pain. I’d lost full control at this point. Two midwives were talking about me as if I weren’t there. “She’s not even having a contraction is she?!” “I know, what is she doing?!” and they rolled their eyes.

I remember seeing the theatre table and lights. I was shaking and crying in fear. They struggled to get me onto the table. I must’ve weight a tonne at the time, and was semi paralysed from the amount of epidural I’d had. It was working on my legs, just not where it was intended to work.

They had me on my side so that the anaesthetist could put in a spinal block. Finally, relief. The pain was gone. As I laid there, they quickly got to work and dad was finally by my side.

The first thing I said to him was “I can’t breathe.” And I couldn’t.

No matter how much I tried, I could not take a breath. I was paralysed, up to my neck. I tried to speak as loud as I could to a bunch of doctors sitting behind me, eating sandwiches. They eventually saw my struggle, or maybe perhaps dad said something, I can’t remember. A doctor standing over said, “Don’t worry, the spinal block has gone too high due to the amount of epidural you've had. We can breathe for you.”

Then I passed out. 

The next thing I remember is a doctor saying “Wake up, your baby is crying.” I glanced over to see my beautiful newborn baby; already dressed, in dad's arms. She was looking at me. It was beautiful. She weighed 10lb 7!

I passed out again. 

In recovery, we met another unhappy, abrupt nurse who wasn't impressed. I spent a few hours there, but I was far too out of it to feel anything. I held my baby as they wheeled me into a ward. She had a cut on her lip, about a cm long. She had been back to back. When they had cut me open they had cut her lip. I was just incredibly grateful that they’d got her out safe, but why hadn’t they known she was back to back? Back labour is renowned for being much more painful. Perhaps if they’d known that, they’d have had a little more sympathy for the person screaming in front of them.

It doesn’t end there, it was bed bath time. 

They came to me not long after I’d been out on the ward. Two women, nurses I think, who continued to mock me because I couldn’t pull myself into a sitting position using the bed rope they’d given me. I’d just been cut open, and been in labour for over two days with no sleep. They laughed at me, pointed at my body, and rolled their eyes.

I was in the hospital for a total of 5 days after giving birth. All the nurses were horrific, except one. It was night time, and I was alone on the ward. I had completely flooded the bed with blood, and was crying, I pressed rhe call button and the loveliest lady came to me. A volunteer, she said. She wiped my tears and changed my bedding, helped me wash, and then sat with me to help me try to breast feed my baby. She sat with me for a long time and I’ll be forever grateful to her. An angel in a hostile environment.

On one of the nights, my baby was crying so much, and I hadn’t slept for days at this point. A midwife came and looked at me in disgust. She took my baby and abruptly told me “go to sleep,” then wheeled her away in her little cot. I was so out of it that I didn’t argue and I went to sleep.

She woke me up a couple of hours later, “your baby needs feeding.” She handed her to me, then left. I had barely sat up. It’s an extremely vulnerable time for a new mum and I felt like I’d been treated with so much contempt at this point, and I was so weak with exhaustion. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

On my final day, I was due to stay another night but I couldn’t do it. At this particular hospital they don’t allow dads to stay past 9pm. I begged. I cried. I just wanted to go home. They said... they’d ask the doctor. Thankfully, they let me go home that day, and you wouldn't believe the relief I felt at walking out that door. 

I should’ve complained, but I didn’t. I was just so glad it was over and that I had a healthy baby. I developed a deep phobia of the dentist. I didn’t realise at the time the two were linked, but after speaking with a counsellor, we put the two together. I associated needles and numbing, and laying back, with what happened to me. 

Baby 2: History Repeats

11 years later, in 2021, I had my second baby, another girl. A decade had passed, and although I’d developed some anxiety, I didn’t have much choice on which hospital to choose to have the baby in. There was another hospital, but it was a 40 minute drive away. The thought of driving for 40 minutes whilst in labour made me choose the same hospital I’d given birth in previously. Plus, the other hospital didn’t have a great reputation either, so I stayed local. 

The pregnancy was a lot smoother this time around. I didn’t have the same swelling I’d had with my first, but my bump grew extremely large and I started to panic: would this baby be large? Would I have to go through the same thing again? 

I had another growth scan; this time at 36 weeks. She was weighing 6lb. I asked for a c section, they reluctantly booked me in for 41 weeks. I wanted to be in control this time. 

At 2 am on Boxing Day morning, I woke with contractions. I was 4 days over my due date. I quickly got my eldest daughter to dad’s house around the corner, and went back home to call the midwives.

“How much pain are you in?” They asked. Well, I was in quite a bit of pain, but they replied, “You sound fine, I don’t think you’re ready. Call us back when it’s unbearable.”

So I had to wait.

I took a bath, walked around the house, got my bags together, and after an hour or so it was much worse so I called back and they said I could go in.

The drive there was unbearable. Back pain again. I couldn’t feel it in my tummy, just my back.

When we got to the hospital I was in agony and could barely walk.

They examined me, I was only 2 cm dilated. They scoffed at me. I wasn’t technically in active labour so dad had to go home, but I couldn’t feel safe on a ward. They put me in a private room and told me to try to rest. I remember I was holding on the bed with each contraction, screaming in pain. I told the nurse who came to me that I needed some medication, and she gave me Pethidine, which knocked me out enough that I could sleep in between contractions.

Each one would wake me so I would sleep for two minutes, and then scream through the contractions. I called the nurse back who said they wouldn’t stop the pain, just... make it more bearable. This went on for 4 hours until they agreed to examine me again. I was finally 4cm so they put me in a wheelchair and took me up to the labour suite, and phoned dad to come back. 

When he arrived, I was screaming in agony, begging for an epidural. I remember thinking to myself, why can’t I cope?! Some women breathe through contractions. Is my pain threshold that low?! Because I was in so much pain, I didn’t think to mention that I’d previously had a back to back baby, but I’d put my trust in them, and they didn’t pick up on it again. 

I eventually got my epidural, this time much quicker. And they’d changed the way it was administered. This time, if I needed a top up, I could press a button which would just top me up. The first time I pressed it I was terrified. Scared I wouldn’t be able to breathe if I had too much.

After 12 hours of labour, I delivered a healthy baby girl, weighing 7lb. I remember when her head came out, the midwives said in shock “She’s back to back!” Couldn't they have checked for that sooner? Perhaps then I’d have been taken seriously over how much pain I was in earlier on in the labour. Not put in a dark room alone, without my partner present. 

The drama started when I was taken back to the maternity ward.

We had a sleepless night, as expected. My baby wasn’t latching on well and she had some mucus she needed to get rid of. All common. 

The midwives were very rough and impatient: grabbing at my breast and pinching my nipple, sighing, then telling me it’s something I had to keep trying. I told them I’d brought some formula and bottles, and I thought I might like to try that as she was clearly hungry and couldn’t get enough milk. They refused to let me. Shaming me for it almost. I kept trying. 

Dad had to go home, and had to call and book a visitation appointment the next day. We both thought it was absurd considering he was the baby’s father. He became a little bit abrupt and Italian with one of the midwives, stating that as the father he shouldn’t have to book to come and see us.

And that's where it all started. 

The same midwife came to question me before he arrived. Asking if I was safe, or if he had any history with domestic abuse. I told her no, all was fine. She raised her eyebrows at me and left. 

They wouldn’t let me go home for 4 days. Although my baby wasn’t sick, I needed to wait until she was properly latching on. If I decided to leave, they would have no choice but to report me for neglect. One particular midwife shouted at me “Your baby is sick! You can’t leave!”

My baby wasn't sick. In England, we say "ill" or "unwell."

The ward was very warm. I was grateful that I was next to a window so could occasionally pop my head out if need be, but it was frowned upon to keep it open. Which was fine.

The same delightful midwife told me I needed to make sure my baby was warm enough, and had me wrap her in two blankets and a woolly hat. An hour later she decided to take my baby’s temperature, and told me “She’s too hot. She has a fever.” I explained she had a vest on, a baby grow, and it was boiling hot in the room! AND she told me to keep her wrapped up in blankets! If her temperature went down in an hour, they’d consider letting me leave. Dad was there to witness this madness, but we knew we were stuck and so we undressed her down to her vest, hoping she’d cool down. I knew she wasn’t sick, I just couldn’t understand all this fuss. 

When an hour had passed, the midwife returned, this time with another midwife. Her temperature was normal. The awful midwife literally stormed away as I cried, asking the other midwife if they’d please just let me go home. She promised they’d get the doctor to discharge me the next morning. Please, God. Please.

That same evening the awful midwife came back, wanting to test my baby’s blood. I can’t remember why, but it seemed so unnecessary. She grabbed my baby’s foot, and I saw her squeeze so hard I had to tell her to stop, I asked her “What on earth are you doing?!” as my poor baby screamed. Why was this happening again?! 

I have a friend who is a midwife, and in a rage I started to message her everything that was happening. She told me that because it was the Christmas period, they would be trying to keep me in longer so that they could do checks on dad to see if I was safe. I was so angry and upset at that point, I told them I was going home the next day whether they liked it or not. 

That night, I overheard the same midwife shaming a poor lady who had just had a baby, because she hadn’t had her Covid vaccinations. She was saying - quite loudly - she "shouldn’t have been here," that she was "selfish," and she was "putting everyone at risk." 

The entire experience on the NHS maternity ward was horrific. I didn’t put a complaint in, but I wish I had. After each experience I was so tired and sleep deprived with a new born baby to focus on. I ended up with severe post natal depression.

I think about the experiences often. It scares me that some midwives and nurses get away with such awful behaviour. It’s put me off ever having another baby again. 

Medical Opinion (R Author)

This is a shocking case. I wish I could say it was rare, but it's one of the many reasons why I don't work for the "national religion" anymore.

For the first case, these are how the medical notes would look:

Uncomplicated antenatal course until third trimester, where patient developed significant oedema and rapid abdominal distension. Midwife concerns dismissed. Labour induced at +12 days post-dates. Prolonged and painful labour with ineffective epidural requiring 5 top-ups. Eventually proceeded to emergency LSCS due to fetal distress. Intraoperative complication: spinal block ascended to high thoracic levels, causing respiratory paralysis requiring assisted ventilation. Neonatal lip laceration noted post-delivery (iatrogenic). Postoperative period notable for PPH (significant bed flooding), poor postnatal support, emotional trauma. No formal complaint submitted. Developed severe needle and dental phobia subsequently.

And for the second:

Elective LSCS requested but deferred until 41 weeks. Spontaneous labour at 40+4. Early labour pain severe, back-only, suggestive of OP fetal position (confirmed post-delivery). Initially denied epidural; given Pethidine. Epidural eventually administered with improved PCA system. Vaginal delivery after 12-hour labour; healthy baby. Postnatally, feeding difficulties, aggressive midwifery handling, coercion to breastfeed, formula discouraged. Patient isolated, father restricted by visiting rules. Covert safeguarding inquiry initiated without cause. Infant overwrapped per staff instruction, later febrile and mother blamed. Blood sampling performed roughly. Discharged on day 5 after advocacy. Subsequently developed severe postnatal depression.

This patient urgently needs a care review and should seek legal advice. What happened here was negligence on a shocking scale: a pattern of medical neglect, emotional abuse, and institutional control. She should make Subject Access Requests for both maternity records (2010 and 2021) and seek redress via PHSO (Parliamentary & Health Service Ombudsman).

Legal Opinion (R Author)

The account raises potential civil liabilities in both negligence and battery, grounded in well-established common law principles.

In medical negligence, the applicable standard of care, which can be found set out in Bolam v Friern Hospital Management Committee [1957] 1 WLR 582 and refined in Bolitho v City and Hackney Health Authority [1998] AC 232, requires clinical decisions be supported by a responsible body of medical opinion and be logically defensible by the administering physician (or other professional delivering care). Failures to act on antenatal warning signs, delays during labour, and repeated epidural failures might constitute breaches of this duty.

Informed consent, as clarified in Montgomery v Lanarkshire Health Board [2015] UKSC 11, requires disclosure of material risks and reasonable alternatives. The account suggests such disclosure may have been lacking, especially concerning anaesthetic risks and postnatal interventions.

Physical interventions without valid consent (such as aggressive handling, unnecessary procedures, or excessive sedation) may also amount to battery, a strict liability tort requiring no proof of harm where non-consensual contact occurs. Aggravated damages may be available where treatment was humiliating or oppressive (Richardson v Howie [2004] EWCA Civ 1127). If substantiated, the conduct described in this article/account could give rise to claims for compensatory and aggravated damages in tort.