'I was dismissed and broken': Mum backs urgent call for birth trauma reform

“You have in your mind these moments that are going to be so special - and all of a sudden, it’s the opposite of special. You’re fighting for your life.”

At 26, April Hagan was healthy, newly married and living abroad in the UK when she found out she was pregnant. It was a planned pregnancy, a hopeful one - the kind of news that comes with wide eyes, nervous laughs and whispered dreams of what life might soon look like.

“My husband and I had been married less than a year, living in England and loving life. We’d met at the gym, we were healthy, happy - world travellers. I felt really ready to become a mum," April said. 

But that joyful anticipation was quickly overshadowed by a rare and terrifying diagnosis. In her first trimester, April contracted chicken pox.

“It’s so uncommon. No one could give me clear answers about what that meant for the baby. All they could say was, ‘It’ll probably be fine.’”

Fortunately, everything was OK and April was relieved that her early scare had a positive outcome.

Despite being a first time mum, living away from her support network, April went into the rest of her pregnancy with a blind faith that everything would run smoothly.

“I just had to trust the process, my sister had babies and she was fine, I assumed I would be too.”

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A forceps delivery left April with lifelong injuries. Image: Supplied

Disjointed care

At 30 weeks, April returned to Australia to be near her family. She was assigned a student midwife in the public system, and while the consistency of that relationship brought some comfort, the rest of her care felt like a revolving door of unfamiliar faces.

“I saw a different doctor or nurse at every appointment. No one seemed to know my story. It was so disjointed.”

Despite that, April tried to stay optimistic - especially with her sister, who had recently given birth, reassuring her that everything would be fine. But as her early December due date passed and Christmas crept closer, she started to notice a shift in her care.

“It felt like my pregnancy was an inconvenience. Staff were clearly worried about being short over the holidays. One doctor even said, ‘We don’t want you going into labour on Christmas - we won’t have enough staff.’”

By Christmas Day, April was 42 weeks pregnant and incredibly uncomfortable. She was admitted to hospital for induction, and that’s when her sense of control began to unravel.

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April found it difficult to bond with her son, Leo. Image: Supplied

“They told me I had no choice”

The first method of induction - prostaglandin tape - failed to progress labour. April was then told they would insert a balloon catheter.

“I hadn’t heard of it before. I asked questions but was told, ‘This is the next step, you don’t have a choice.’ It was so painful and overwhelming, and then they just left me alone in the room, scared and in agony.”

One nurse - the only one who seemed to notice her distress - returned quietly and released some of the fluid from the balloon to relieve the pressure.

“She said, ‘I’m not supposed to do this,’ but she could see how much pain I was in. It helped. It was the only act of true compassion I felt in that whole lead-up.”

Then came a moment April will never forget.

Still Christmas Day, she was discharged from hospital. Still in pain. Still not in labour. With the balloon catheter in place.

“The underlying tone was ‘If your baby comes today, we might not have staff to care for you.’ I was terrified. What if I did go into labour at home? What would happen to me?”

“On Boxing Day, it all fell apart”

The next morning - Boxing Day - April returned to hospital. The balloon catheter had dilated her cervix, but labour hadn’t started. This time, a synthetic oxytocin drip was used to induce her.

“I laboured all day in extreme pain. I eventually had an epidural around 3pm, and by 8pm I started pushing - but nothing was happening.”

After two and a half hours of pushing, the room began to fill with unfamiliar faces. April says she didn’t know who most of them were - there were no introductions, no explanations.

“It felt like the birth was happening to me, not with me. I had no power, no voice.”

She had known throughout her labour that baby Leo was in a posterior position - facing the wrong way - which often makes vaginal birth more difficult. But just before deciding to use forceps – again a decision made with no consultation with April, the team did a quick ultrasound.

“They said, ‘Good news - he’s turned anterior, so forceps should work.’”

Concerned, frightened and with a million questions, April asked the doctor – who she later discovered was a student – about the procedure.

“I asked if there was an increased risk of tearing. She said, ‘I’ll do the best I can.’ That terrified me.”

At no point was an episiotomy offered. As first time parents, April and her husband didn’t even know this was something they should be advocating for.

Reading paperwork later, April says the report read that were no scissors available to perform an episiotomy. She later suspected this was because the student doctor performing the procedure may not have been trained or authorised to do one.

The forceps procedure began, but when Leo was born, it was clear he hadn’t turned at all.

“He was still posterior. They got it wrong. They used forceps based on an incorrect ultrasound, and it was the wrong technique for that position. That decision changed everything.”

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April is now sharing her story to advocate for a National Strategy for the Care and Treatment of Birth Injuries. Image: Supplied.

“I tore all the way through - and haemorrhaged on the table”

Leo was delivered with forceps. On the way out, April suffered a severe 3C tear - a tear that extends through to the anal sphincter - and began haemorrhaging.

“They handed me my baby for a moment, and then I was rushed into surgery. I genuinely thought I was going to die.”

“You have in your mind these moments that are going to be so special - and all of a sudden, it’s the opposite of special. You’re fighting for your life.”

“The pain didn’t go away. And no one listened.”

Despite the trauma, April says she was told repeatedly that her recovery was “normal.”

“At six months postpartum, I was still in pain every day. The obstetric team and the hospital physios told me it was normal and I’d get better. But I knew something was more wrong.”

April eventually sought private care. A women’s health physio confirmed what the hospital had failed to acknowledge: April had sustained lifelong injuries that weren’t going to “get better”.

“They told me I’d need to be careful lifting my baby. I was devastated. And while I was grateful to have my concerns acknowledged, I was furious that my care team had dismissed me.”

Two weeks later, April experienced a breakdown with suicidal ideations. She was admitted to a privately funded mother and baby psychiatric unit for a month.

“It wasn’t that I had a plan to end my life. I just couldn’t see how I could go on. I had a baby who needed me, and a body that wouldn’t let me show up for him.”

“That message saved me”

After being discharged, April found herself scrolling Facebook late one night searching for people who could relate to her experience. Birth Trauma Australia, founder Amy Dawes messaged her directly.

“She told me, ‘You’re not alone. I’ve been through this too.’ That message changed everything. I finally felt seen and connected with people who knew what I had been through.”

“This is birth - and it shouldn’t be like this”

New research released by Birth Trauma Australia this Birth Trauma Awareness Week reveals:

• 98 percent of people who experience birth trauma report ongoing physical injury or unmanaged pain
• Over 50 percent cite poor pain management
• Nearly 1 in 4 report a lack of informed consent
• People diagnosed more than a year after birth are three times more likely to experience suicidal ideation than those diagnosed early

April is now sharing her story to advocate for a National Strategy for the Care and Treatment of Birth Injuries - one that includes:

• Mandatory postnatal screening
• Trauma-informed care pathways
• Funded access to physiotherapy, psychology and surgical care where needed

“We can’t always prevent trauma. But we can stop telling women that pain is normal. We can stop dismissing them. I will do everything I can to make sure this doesn’t happen to the next generation - especially my daughter.”

You can support Birth Trauma Australia's call for a national strategy by signing their petition.

For more support, visit birthtrauma.org.au or contact PANDA on 1300 726 306.

Originally published as 'I was dismissed and broken': Mum backs urgent call for birth trauma reform