"I expected challenges in childbirth, but never imagined the biggest trauma would come from the people supposed to care for us"

A mother's experience of Oxford University Hospitals Maternity Services in 2022:

In November 2022, I gave birth to my son at the John Radcliffe Hospital. My birth experience was not only distressing, but also avoidably traumatic - a result of unprofessionalism, systemic understaffing, and a dangerous lack of empathy from those entrusted with our most vulnerable moments.

On 16 November 2022 (40+5), I had a membrane sweep at the JR’s midwife unit, performed by [staff name]. I immediately noticed she had extremely long fingernails, which I consider both inappropriate and unhygienic for an internal procedure. The sweep was excruciatingly painful, far more than the two I had previously.

On 18 November, I came to the JR in active labour. I was having regular, intense contractions every 2-3 minutes, unable to walk or speak during them, with blood-streaked watery discharge. A midwife offered to check my dilation - she performed a very quick, superficial check and told me I was far from labour. I was sent home, in agony, despite clearly being in established labour.

I returned to the hospital only three hours later, this time in even more extreme pain and unable to stand. I rang the bell at the Spires Unit, only to be told coldly through the intercom, “We are busy, go to MAU.” No one came to assess me at the door. I was in visible distress and could barely remain upright. In the MAU, a midwife with a cold and unsympathetic demeanour explained pain relief options and pressured me to make a decision quickly due to how “busy” the unit was.

I felt deeply unsupported and coerced, ultimately agreeing to an epidural. At that point, I was already 6 cm dilated. I received the epidural around 1 AM. By 4–6 AM, I was 9 cm dilated, and I was told I would likely deliver before 9 AM. However, a fluid sac was found ahead of the baby’s head, which they ruptured. Following that, my cervix retracted to 4 cm.

Labour was augmented with oxytocin, but this led to distressing changes in my baby’s heart rate. A C-section was then recommended — a deeply distressing turn of events given my original birth plan, which was completely disregarded (it also included a plan for c-section as a worse-case scenario).

After a major surgery, my partner was not allowed to stay with me overnight. I was left alone and immobile while my baby lay in the cot. He began choking on mucus multiple times. I was unable to reach him quickly, and when I pressed the call bell, the attending staff were dismissive and visibly irritated, often stopping by the curtain only to ask “what?” without even entering.

When I attempted to breastfeed, one of the night nurses forcefully pressed my baby’s head against my breast so hard that he couldn’t breathe. I had to physically push her away. This nurse also did not seem to speak or understand English, which added to the stress and helplessness I felt.

Throughout that night, I asked for assistance changing my baby or lifting him into bed, but was met with apathy. One nurse stood watching me struggle without offering any help.

My son passed all newborn checks but was visibly jaundiced. We raised this concern but were told he was “borderline” and discharged us only 24 hours post-surgery, on 20th November. At home, my baby was lethargic and refused to feed. When the midwife visited the next day, she confirmed he had jaundice and we were readmitted on 21st November for phototherapy. It was here the trauma intensified.

He had lost nearly 10% of his body weight and was given donor breastmilk. Upon seeing how eagerly he drank, one nurse remarked: “You poor little thing, you were starving, now you know how breastmilk tastes.” This comment shattered me. I cried uncontrollably and again, received no comfort or support from the staff.

My baby was placed under lights, alone in a cot, with eye shields that kept slipping off. He cried for hours, increasingly distressed, to the point that he lost his voice. We repeatedly asked for alternative arrangements. The nurses insisted he had to remain alone in the cot.

It was only on 22 November that a nurse showed any compassion. She allowed us to hold our baby with protective glasses while the light was positioned above him. He calmed instantly. Why wasn’t this offered earlier?

During this readmission, I was given a breast pump with incorrect-sized flanges, and the machine was set to full power without warning. The nurse gave no instructions or explanation. It caused intense pain, cracked nipples, and zero milk output.

The repeated dismissals, rudeness, lack of empathy, and poor communication I endured from multiple staff members - not just one - had a devastating impact on my mental health. I required therapy following this experience and suffered through an extremely difficult postpartum period, seriously doubting about my capacity of being a mother.

I expected challenges in childbirth, but never imagined the biggest trauma would come from the people supposed to care for us.

I was treated as a burden, not as a vulnerable new mother who had just gone through emergency surgery and whose baby was struggling.

The birth of a child should never be associated with this level of trauma, especially when it is preventable.

It has taken me 2.5 years to be able to speak up, and I do it now as well because too many women and families have been failed in the JR, and our babies deserve better beginnings.