Wonderland Wanderess

Parts of this birth story are written in 'Hypnobirthing Language' which changes a lot of medical terms to gentler words. The medical terms are added in brackets the first time each is used. This story begins with the events that shaped my views of birth. In 2010 I gave birth to my first child. At two weeks overdue, I was induced and my labour was horrific, as were my postpartum complications. I now attribute this to the fact my labour was artificially induced. In December 2011, I fell pregnant with my second child. During the first trimester, my loving partner tragically passed away in our home during an epileptic seizure. Remembering how traumatic my first birth was, I didn't believe I'd cope, especially given the dark place I was already in. Instead, I opted for an elective C-section. Early in my final pregnancy, I discovered a place I now view as The Gold Standard in prenatal and postnatal care: My Midwives . I cannot speak highly enough of My Midwives and the

Dear Dad, It’s been years since we last spoke. I was pregnant with my first child; you were sectioned in a psychiatric hospital again. I’d visited you there many times over the years, as a child and as an adult. I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I had to walk away.   My childhood seems like a good place to begin. I vividly recall you telling me at Family Court, right before you were stripped your parental responsibility and visitation rights, that I was strong like you. You told me this strength was what enabled me to endure and withstand all of the pain. That day was the first and only time I saw you cry. I remember how hard you hugged me; how tightly you clung to me. Your exact final words as I was escorted from the room were: 'God, I love you, kiddo.' What you may not know is that it wasn’t any perceived strength that allowed me to speak to you that day when my brother refused. It was the panic button located beneath the Family Report Writer's desk. That discr