Hi, I’m a first-time mom living in London, and I’d love to share a raw, honest account of my very first week after giving birth.
Those days felt like a battle—physically and emotionally. I was completely unprepared for how intense things would become, even after what I thought was a healthy pregnancy.
I thought I had everything under control…
Throughout my pregnancy, I followed every guideline. I took my vitamins, attended all the antenatal checkups, did regular scans, and communicated frequently with my GP and OB. I had my birth plan ready and was hoping for a natural delivery.
But sometimes, babies come into this world on their own terms.
Unexpected complications led to an emergency C-section
About a week before my due date, my blood pressure started to rise.
It wasn’t dangerously high yet, but my OB said it could be an early sign of pregnancy-induced hypertension. I tried not to panic, telling myself it was just pre-labour changes.
Then, the next day, further tests revealed my bile acid levels were elevated. My OB looked me straight in the eyes and said:
“You now have more than one abnormal reading. I strongly recommend we do a C-section tomorrow morning.”
Her tone left no room for debate.
She explained that elevated bile acids, while not super common, could put the baby at risk of distress, oxygen deprivation, or even stillbirth in rare cases.
At that moment, I realized my carefully made birth plan didn’t matter anymore. My baby’s safety came first.
In the operating room, I finally felt what it meant to be a mother
The next morning, I was wheeled into the theatre. Everything happened quickly.
I remember lying there, listening to the quiet voices of nurses and the steady beeping of machines, when suddenly someone said, “Here comes your baby.”
In that moment, my heart raced. I wasn’t just giving birth—I was letting go of control, trusting the team around me. And just like that, my baby entered the world.
Then I heard something that made my blood run cold:
“Good thing we brought him out today—there was heavy meconium in the water.”
I asked nervously, “Just a little, right?”
The doctor replied, “No. It was significantly stained.”
That moment still gives me chills
The idea that I could’ve waited “just one more day”… and possibly faced something dangerous for my baby—it haunted me.
Thankfully, we acted in time. The medical team explained that it could have been fetal distress, or maybe a reaction to anesthesia. Either way, if we had waited, the outcome might’ve been different.
This was when I truly understood how life-changing a doctor’s intuition and experience can be.
Recovery after a C-section was nothing like I expected
I assumed that once my baby arrived, I could rest.
But the first night was incredibly difficult.
Once the anesthesia wore off, every movement felt like fire across my abdomen. I couldn’t roll over, laugh, or even cough without pain. Though I was given medication, I still woke up from the discomfort.
And my baby needed to feed every 2–3 hours.
There were midwives and nurses helping me, but I still felt utterly alone. I remember crying quietly while feeding him at 3am, not out of sadness—but out of exhaustion, pain, and the overwhelming weight of becoming a mother overnight.
A quick note about milk coming in…
On day two post-surgery, I started feeling the intense pain of engorgement. My breasts were rock hard, hot, and sensitive to even the slightest touch.
Soon after, I developed a fever over 38.5°C.
The maternity unit arranged for a lactation consultant to see me, and she helped me start managing early-stage blocked ducts and pain.
I’ll write a separate post focused on clogged ducts and breastfeeding tips soon—because that’s a whole journey of its own.
The truth? Becoming a mother didn’t happen the day I gave birth—it happens every single day after
Before all this, I used to hear people say “motherhood is a rebirth.”
I never really understood it.
Now I do.
Becoming a mom isn’t one magical moment—it’s a slow, painful, beautiful transformation.
From your first deep breath in the operating room, to the first time you cry while holding your baby at night. From wondering “Can I do this?” to slowly learning, “Maybe I already am.”
If you’re also walking through this early postpartum season, I want you to know:
You’re not alone.
Your exhaustion is valid. Your questions are normal.
Please don’t hesitate to ask your doctor, midwife, or fellow moms for help—you don’t have to carry everything on your own.
Thank you for reading my story. And if you’ve experienced something similar, I’d love to hear your journey too.
Let’s lift each other up.
