"I was told I didn’t “sound like I was in enough pain” and advised to take a bath, relax, and wait longer at home"

A mother’s experience of Oxford University Hospitals Maternity Services in 2021/22:

I gave birth to my second daughter in November 2022. Contractions began around 11am. By 4pm they had become close together and increasingly intense, so I called the maternity unit. I was told I didn’t “sound like I was in enough pain” and advised to take a bath, relax, and wait longer at home.

By 7pm, the pain had escalated, but I was told again to stay at home since I could still talk through contractions. I didn’t feel comfortable with this advice, so I made the decision to go to the John Radcliffe assessment unit anyway.

On arrival, I was met with eye rolls and told to wait in the corridor. I felt increasingly distressed and ignored. My waters then broke in that corridor, and my contractions intensified even more. I was told to “just go to the toilet and clean [myself] up,” despite barely being able to move due to the pain.

Only then was I taken to an assessment room. I was repeatedly told to lie on the bed, even though I wanted to stay standing. Eventually, I was made to lie down.

My partner was outside caring for our toddler, as we hadn’t been able to arrange childcare. Our baby was born at around 8:20pm — in the assessment room.

It’s worth noting that this was a high-risk pregnancy due to a heart condition. I was given the injection to help deliver the placenta, and my partner was briefly allowed in before being told he needed to take a different route to rejoin me once I was moved to the delivery suite.

After being moved, my partner visited briefly again but had to leave soon after to take our daughter home. I then felt a pushing sensation — I thought the placenta was coming, but I passed several very large blood clots. The room quickly filled with people, and I began to haemorrhage.

The fundal massage was extremely painful. I was offered gas and air, but I was in such shock that I don’t remember responding. I lost around half my blood volume and required a transfusion.

After it finished, IV fluids were started, but when a second transfusion was needed due to my heart condition and low iron, the fluids were stopped. The midwife was instructed to restart them afterward, but when I was moved to recovery, the new midwife found the fluids hadn’t been reattached and corrected this.

During this time, I was left with blood on my legs and no help to care for my newborn — who lay bare, covered only with a towel. I wasn’t offered support to put a nappy on. A catheter had also been inserted at some point (I don’t remember this), and a midwife later questioned why it had been done at all.

Much of that day is a blur. I was discharged the following afternoon.

In the weeks that followed, I experienced multiple heavy bleeds — at times passing clots the size of tennis balls. During a couple of visits to the maternity assessment unit, I was told it was likely I’d “overdone it,” as the bleeding had settled by the time I was seen.

At around five weeks postpartum, I had a major bleed after going for a short walk. The blood soaked through a maternity pad and pooled on the floor. I was home alone with the children and called an ambulance. When they arrived, they contacted the GP, who suggested it was likely the return of my period. I was prescribed the mini pill and tranexamic acid, but this didn’t sit right with me.

I called my partner home from work and went to the maternity assessment unit again. This time, I was seen promptly and scanned — and it was confirmed that I had retained products. A COVID lateral flow test was performed and came back positive, though a later swab result was negative. In the meantime, I was isolated in a room with my baby for a couple of days. It was incredibly difficult to get help or even attention.

When I reported further bleeding, which I felt should be monitored or measured, I was simply told to flush it. I was placed on IV antibiotics and told I’d need to be on them for 24 hours before the retained products could be removed. However, the removal was then delayed for another couple of days.

It’s all a bit of an emotional blur. I remember asking if I could go home and be called in when the procedure could actually be done. I was called back in the next day — on Christmas Day — and underwent a D&C to remove the retained products.

Looking back, there were moments that felt demeaning. During a scan, a doctor casually said, “Don’t go near that thing without a load of antibiotics.” A midwife who had briefly cared for my baby scolded me for dressing her in a fleece romper — even though the room had been cold. Ironically, my baby ended up clammy while crying for me in the corridor when I was being scanned.

Throughout my stay, I didn’t feel spoken to with care or compassion. I often felt like a nuisance. I was also forgotten about when it came to meals. I didn’t receive lunch, so my partner brought food in — only to be told I needed to fast for a procedure that was later cancelled.

I was then told to fast again the next day, and once again the procedure was cancelled. I don’t remember having a single proper meal during my time there.

The whole experience — physically, emotionally, and mentally — was incredibly distressing.

While some of the timelines are hazy now, the feeling of being dismissed, isolated, and neglected is something I will never forget.