My Birth Story: From Fear to the Most Empowering Moment of My Life

I was terrified of giving birth

Not nervous. Not apprehensive. Genuinely terrified.

Growing up, I would always say, “I’ll just adopt.”

The thought of pregnancy and birth brought up a level of fear in me that I couldn’t really explain until I got older and started understanding where some of it came from.

A lot of my fear was connected to my childhood.

My mum struggled terribly with postnatal depression after having me and ultimately walked out of my life when I was 18 months old. Growing up knowing that she had struggled to form that attachment with me left me carrying questions I didn’t even realise were there for years.

So when I became pregnant with my own baby, there were really two fears.

The first was labour itself.

I have always struggled with anxiety, so the idea of losing control of my body, experiencing pain I couldn’t escape from and not knowing what was going to happen absolutely terrified me.

But the second fear was much deeper.

What would happen when my baby was placed on my chest?

Would I feel connected to him?

Would I love him?

Would something inside me be missing too?

It almost feels strange to write that now, because I am sitting here eleven days postpartum looking at my beautiful little boy and feeling a love that is almost impossible to put into words.

But before I knew him, those fears were very real.

Pregnancy added another layer of fear

During my pregnancy, I was diagnosed with a succenturiate placental lobe and a velamentous cord insertion.

Thankfully, my cord wasn’t lying low, which meant I was still able to plan for a vaginal birth.

But knowing there were additional considerations surrounding my placenta and cord definitely added another layer to my anxiety.

One of my biggest fears throughout pregnancy was ending up in theatre if something went wrong.

I desperately wanted to avoid it.

My ideal birth was supposed to be calm, natural and in the water.

Of course, birth has a wonderful way of reminding you that you are not actually the one completely in control.

The night my waters broke

At around midnight on 12 June 2026, my waters broke naturally while I was lying in bed.

It was happening.

We went into Gold Coast University Hospital to be checked, where I met one of the people who would completely change the way I remembered my birth.

My midwife, Kelly.

After checking me over, Kelly told me everything looked okay and that I could head home and labour there for as long as I felt comfortable.

So that is exactly what I did.

I laboured at home through the night and into the next day.

By around 12:20pm my contractions were approximately six minutes apart and I knew I was ready to go back.

It was time to have our baby.

And when I say my husband wheeled me into the hospital while I was screaming, I mean screaming.

Any beautiful vision I had created in my head of peacefully walking into hospital, breathing through contractions and gracefully entering my birth suite had well and truly disappeared.

I was done.

Every calm, watery birth plan I had, straight out the window.

Surrendering to the birth I needed

Once I arrived, I was checked multiple times to try to determine how dilated I was, but because my waters had already broken they couldn’t easily feel or see what was happening.

Eventually I was wheeled onto the ward and we started preparing for birth.

I had spent my pregnancy imagining that I would give birth naturally in the water.

But in that moment?

Give me the epidural.

I had this sudden realisation that I did not need to prove anything to myself.

I didn’t need to be a hero.

I didn’t need to suffer through something purely because I had once decided that was how I wanted to give birth.

I could surrender.

So I started using the gas while waiting for my epidural, and once it was working I felt like I could finally settle into what was happening.

My birth plan changed, but strangely, I didn’t feel disappointed.

I felt safe.

At 7:30pm, it was time

By around 7:30pm, I was ready to birth our baby boy.

That room is something I don’t think I will ever forget.

I can still picture it so clearly.

There was this warmth in the room. This love. This feeling that everyone around me was completely focused on helping me bring my baby into the world.

And then, at 8:02pm, Hudson was born.

Vaginally.

With an epidural.

And somehow, without a single tear.

My beautiful little boy was here.

The baby I had spent months wondering whether I would feel connected to.

The baby I had been terrified I might not know how to love.

8:02pm. The moment everything I had been afraid of turned into the best thing I have ever done.

And then something happened that I think will stay with me for the rest of my life.

My midwife Kelly leaned over me.

She grabbed each side of my face, kissed me on the forehead, looked directly into my eyes and said:

I don’t think anyone had ever spoken to me like that before.

And I believed her.

Those final minutes of giving birth were the most liberating, powerful and freeing minutes of my entire life.

It was as though years of anxiety and fear had been washed out of me.

The thing I had spent my whole life being terrified of had just shown me how strong I actually was.

3480 grams. 12 June 2026.

Then came the moment I had feared most

After Hudson was born, I was given oxytocin to help my placenta deliver.

When they attempted to remove it, my cord snapped.

I began losing blood.

More than 900 mL.

Suddenly, everyone moved quickly.

The thing I had feared throughout my entire pregnancy was happening.

They were preparing me for theatre.

And this is the strangest part of my entire birth story.

I wasn’t scared.

After months of lying awake worrying about exactly this scenario, I felt completely calm.

I remember looking at my husband.

He looked understandably distressed.

I looked at him and said:

“I love you. You have him, right?”

He kissed me, and as they started wheeling me away, this feeling came over me that I don’t think I will ever be able to properly describe.

I just remember thinking:

If birthing him is the last thing I ever do on this earth, then I’m complete.

There was no panic.

There was no fear.

There was just peace.

Pure peace.

Everything was okay

Thankfully, the procedure in theatre was extremely successful.

The doctors were able to manually remove my placenta without further complications, and I didn’t require any additional surgical intervention.

I came through it safely.

Hudson was safe.

My husband had our baby.

And before long, I was back with them.

For something that had lived in my mind as one of my greatest fears, when it actually happened, I somehow knew I could handle it.

Maybe because I had already done the thing I thought I couldn’t do.

I had given birth to my son.

The fear that followed me into motherhood disappeared

One of the biggest questions I carried throughout pregnancy was whether I would love my baby.

That sounds heartbreaking to admit.

But when you grow up with the knowledge that your own mum struggled to form that attachment with you, it’s hard not to wonder whether history might somehow repeat itself.

It didn’t.

I look at Hudson and feel an extreme, overwhelming, all-consuming kind of love.

The kind of love where you stare at their little face and can’t understand how this tiny person existed inside you.

The kind that makes your chest almost hurt.

The kind where eleven days in, you already cannot remember what life felt like before them.

If I could go back and speak to the girl who spent her whole life saying she would adopt because she was too scared to give birth, I would tell her:

You are going to do it.

You are going to be terrified.

Your birth isn’t going to happen exactly the way you imagined.

You’re going to ask for the epidural.

You’re going to end up in the theatre you spent months being afraid of.

And somehow, you’re going to walk away from it feeling more powerful than you ever have in your life.

I would tell the pregnant version of me who lay awake wondering whether she would love her baby that she doesn’t need to be afraid.

Because when that little boy arrives, she is going to understand a kind of love she has never experienced before.

Birth didn’t break me.

In so many ways, it healed something in me.

Becoming Hudson’s mum feels deeply, spiritually and emotionally like exactly what I was meant to do.

And if there is one thing I will carry with me from that room forever, it is Kelly’s words.

Remember this moment.

Because I can do hard things.

I am strong.

I am powerful.

And on 12 June 2026 at 8:02pm, I became Hudson’s mum.