Cesarean birth · Mumbai
I Died and Came Back for Her
Anonymous
I Died and Came Back for Her
Birthing my daughter was the most life-changing experience of my life. I truly believe a part of me died and was revived for her.
My pregnancy was smooth—even during Covid, I did everything right. A few scares on my marker tests turned out false. Everything seemed fine… until it wasn’t.
At 34 weeks, while working from home and pushing myself under corporate pressure, I noticed a small gush of discharge. I called the hospital. The attending doctor said it was “normal” at this stage. But something in me felt off.
I hesitated, even showed a photo to my best friend—a new mom—who said, “Trust your instincts.”
The next morning, I went to the hospital. My doctor was in surgery, and we almost left. But my husband, almost instinctively, said, “Let’s wait.” That decision changed everything.
"And to every mom-to-be: Please, don’t be afraid to ask difficult questions."
When I insisted on being checked again, the doctor’s face turned serious. I was to be admitted immediately. My world froze—I had a major client presentation in an hour, but none of that mattered now.
Two days and several steroid injections later, my daughter arrived via emergency C-section.
The delivery room was surreal—doctors chatting about golf while I trembled in fear. A nurse saw my tears, held my hand, and whispered reassurance. She was an angel when I needed one most.
My baby cried, but I didn’t get to hold her. She was tiny—an IUGR baby—and taken straight to the NICU at another hospital. I didn’t see her for three days. Then she caught a virus in the NICU. We spent a month in fear, watching, praying, surviving.
What got me through was another mother who was going through the same thing. We cried together, prayed together, and held each other up.
Today, my daughter is strong and thriving—but that experience changed me forever.
No one prepares new moms. Not doctors. Not elders. We’re told childbirth is “normal,” but it’s a storm no one warns us about. We need to talk about it—honestly, openly—so women walk into motherhood not blindly brave, but fully aware and fiercely ready.