"They took my chance to grieve my son. They took my voice when I needed to be heard. They took me"

A mother’s experience of Oxford University Hospitals Maternity Services in 2024:

They Took Everything From Me — My Story of Loss, Neglect, and Survival

In 2015, I gave birth to my stillborn son. It was a loss so profound, I didn’t think I’d ever face pregnancy again. Due to my health, we had made peace with that.

But in 2024, nearly a decade later, we were surprised to find ourselves expecting again — a miracle we never thought possible.

That pregnancy, however, came hand in hand with fear, trauma, and the weight of our past. I was terrified. Every scan, every movement, every silence in between filled me with dread. Thanks to the compassionate support of the Rainbow Team, I made it through those long, anxious months.

But heartbreak struck again — our second son was stillborn.

To lose one child is unbearable. To live through it twice? There are no words. It’s a grief that tears through your soul. Although the care during his birth was tender and respectful, everything that followed was a descent into trauma I never imagined — and should never have had to endure.

Just a week after giving birth, I developed a severe infection. I was forced to sit for hours in the Maternity Assessment Unit — the same place expectant mothers were going in to deliver — even though staff knew in advance why I was coming. No consideration. No dignity. Just silence and stares.

I was admitted in confusion. Different consultants said different things. Nine days postpartum, I found myself on a ward surrounded by pregnant women.

The next morning, I woke to be told my medical notes were lost. They asked me to retell my story. Again. After all I’d been through, I was forced to relive the moment I lost my son. It only got worse.

What happened in the next 48 hours still haunts me.

They thought I was there for an abortion. A member of staff looked me in the eye and asked: “What would you like to do with the fetus?”

My son was already in the hospital morgue. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.

They kept me in the delivery suite for hours — surrounded by the sound of heartbeats on monitors and the cries of newborn babies.

I walked into surgery unprepared. When I woke up, I was soaked in blood, alone, and ignored. My cries for help were met with silence.

I begged for my Rainbow Team. They came. They fought for me. But by then, I was already fading. No mental health support arrived. I waited nearly a full day before someone realized they’d been bleeping the wrong number. “Oops.” That single word still echoes in my head.

I broke. Hallucinations began — blood running down walls, voices in my head, compulsive washing until I bled. I was admitted to the Warneford for emergency psychiatric care. The diagnosis: birth trauma-induced psychosis and severe PTSD. All of it preventable.

A year later, I’m still battling for my health. Daily hallucinations. PTSD. I fought for 12 months just to access proper trauma care. I shouldn’t have had to fight. I should have been held.

The NHS didn’t just mishandle my care. They took something from me I can never reclaim: They took my chance to grieve my son. They took my voice when I needed to be heard. They took me.

If you’ve experienced maternity trauma or felt invisible in the system, you are not alone. We need to speak — not just for ourselves, but for those still suffering in silence. It’s time for change.