Today, we’re hosting an anonymous guest post for an amazingly brave woman who wanted to share her experiences of the effects that childhood sexual abuse can have on pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood.
I loved being pregnant. Absolutely loved it. It was the first time I can ever remember feeling really good about my body, and I watched my ever-expanding belly and breasts with awe and excitement. It was also the first time I had ever really taken good care of myself, having long, relaxing baths every night, moisturising, swallowing vitamins every morning to help my baby but also enjoying the fact that they gave me shiny hair, clear skin and strong nails.
I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and pregnancy was the thing that finally made me feel like my body was my own again. I had tried so many other things over the years to undo the damage that had been done, and none of them had worked. But finally, as a pregnant woman, I felt like I had won. I had reclaimed my body from him.
I was so proud. I felt like shouting from the rooftops, ‘Look! Look! I can grow a baby. I am a strong woman. I am in control. I am not afraid anymore.’
There was just one problem. Being pregnant meant that I would have to give birth. And that was terrifying,
I was not afraid of the physical pain, but I was afraid that the experience would bring back bad memories, and that I would lose all the confidence and the strength that I had been building up. I did not want people I didn’t know touching me, or looking at me. I did not want to feel that vulnerable again.
With that in mind, I decided to have a home birth. I built it up in my head to be the culmination of all the good feelings I had been filled with during pregnancy. From a practical, physical point of view, it meant that there would be fewer medical professionals around me and less likelihood of the interventions I was so afraid of. From an emotional point of view, I saw it as an event that would heal me completely; an expression of my body’s strength and my autonomy as a woman, no longer controlled by that man who had hurt me so much.
I tried. I tried so damn hard, but the home birth didn’t happen.
In the entire time I was pregnant, no-one ever asked me if I’d been abused. I was asked once if my marriage had ever been violent, but I wasn’t asked anything about my past. If I had been, I would have told them. I wouldn’t ever have brought it up myself, because I didn’t know how to, but if at one of my appointments a midwife had asked, I wouldn’t have tried to stop my story from spilling out.
Because I didn’t have the chance to talk about it and explain my fears in a calm and reasonable way, I broke down and talked about it ten hours into labour instead. We were still at home. I had a vaginal exam to check how dilated I was, and it brought on a panic attack. I writhed up the bed, crying, trying to get the midwife’s hand out of me.
“Stop,” I said. “Stop. Don’t do that.”
I was finally able to say the words I hadn’t been able to say ten years earlier.
“I can’t do this,” I said. “I can’t let you touch me.”
I explained why.
The two midwives, who I had never met before that night, told me that they understood, that they would work with me, help me to have my baby. They seemed to pounce on my previous silence about my past as the reason why labour wasn’t progressing as quickly as they’d expected – that my mental barrier was causing a physical barrier for the baby – and they thought that now I’d voiced my concerns I should have no problem pushing that baby out at home.
So we persevered for another few hours, but still nothing was happening, and eventually, exhausted, I requested a transfer to hospital.
Several hours later, my son arrived as the result of a forceps delivery… and honestly? I felt like I had been abused all over again. Even though these were people trying to help me give birth to a healthy baby, it was all the same feelings – fear, shame, disempowerment. They pumped me full of drugs, cut me, and pulled my son out of me. I was not a strong woman anymore. I was not in control. I was lying on my back having something done to me again, and I hated it.
It was never written in my notes, but the midwives in hospital all knew. They would sidle up and sit on my bed. “How did you carry all that around with you for so long?” they asked. “Why didn’t you tell someone earlier?”
No-one had ever asked. I didn’t know how to bring it up. I might have convinced myself that I was a strong woman carrying my baby, but inside, because of what had happened, I was still a scared little girl. I was scared that I was making a big deal out of nothing, that they would dismiss my concerns and tell me not to be stupid.
It is very easy to waste your time thinking about ‘what ifs’. Perhaps, even if I’d been asked if there was anything in my past that might affect my pregnancy and birth, I wouldn’t have been able to talk about it. Perhaps, even if I’d talked about it, it wouldn’t have made any difference to how my birth went.
But it might have done. It might have made things just a little easier.
I wish someone had asked.
After the birth, my past continued to be an issue. I hated breastfeeding. I hated that this little person needed my body so much. People talked about how breastfeeding helps you bond with your baby. No it doesn’t. Not if you feel like I did. It kills me to say this now, but I don’t feel like I really loved my son until I stopped breastfeeding him at 9 months.
No-one asked about that either. They complimented me on what a good job I was doing, how healthy he looked, how good his weight was… but they never asked how I felt about it.
Some good things happened. My desire to protect my son was more important than my fear of speaking out about the abuse. So I finally opened up to some members of my family, and got the man who abused me out of my life. The situation still isn’t fully resolved, but I have not seen him since becoming a mother, and he has never met my son. That is change enough for me, for now.
A few years on, I now love my son with a fierceness I didn’t know was possible. I am a good parent. I respect his boundaries absolutely. We have a wonderful physical relationship, but he has never been made to kiss a relative if he doesn’t want to. If I am tickling him and he asks me to stop, I do, right away. I trust his instincts entirely, and if he says he doesn’t like a person then I do not dismiss that lightly. It is hugely important to me that he grows up with self-confidence and with respect for his own body and for other people’s. He should know that it is always okay to say no. And that if someone else says no you stop, right away.
I don’t know how to have the stranger danger talk with him, because I don’t know how to explain that it’s not just strangers who can be dangerous. We will have to work on that one.
Here is the thing. If you have been abused, you can never undo that. It will always be a part of you. For every step forward you take in moving on from it, you always have to be prepared for something to send you two steps back. My pregnancy – and all that good feeling that came with it – was a step forward. My birth – and all the bad feeling that came with it – was at least two steps back.
Since then, I’ve come several steps forward, but I am not yet immune to things that can send me back. Right now, Jimmy Savile is in the news, and hundreds of people who have no fucking idea what they’re talking about are spouting off all over the internet about what abuse is (and isn’t), questioning the motives of women who only feel able to speak up now.
I am quite sure that I’m not the only survivor who has had a flood of unwanted memories coming back as a result of all this coverage. I bet I’m not the only grown woman feeling pretty wobbly right now.
Speaking out is important. But you will notice that I still don’t feel able to put my name to this piece. Maybe – hopefully – one day I will. In the meantime I have to do what every survivor does. Looking after myself. Looking after my son. Taking those steps forward, one foot and one day at a time.
I’ve commented anonymously because not many people know what happened to me as a child and I want it to stay that way.
I was abused for my entire childhood.
Everything you’ve said here completely and utterly echoes my thoughts while pregnant.
I had two homebirths and I was lucky that they were wonderful. I always tell people who have to examin me ‘down there’ about my past. I didn’t used to and it was traumatic.
My midwife knew and although it was still awful to be examined it was easier as she’d talk me through.
It’s the same with smears.
My abuser went to prison. It helped me a lot to know I was believed. It didn’t stop the flashbacks or nightmares and sometimes they come fast.
The whole jimmy saville thing is killing me at the moment- like abuse is a new trendy thing. It’s all over social media and the news and for survivors of abuse it’s in our faces daily.
All these ‘experts’ saying their piece. It infuriates me but it won’t beat me.
I admire your honesty and your bravery. Be proud! You survived and you are strong.
I’m a surviver like you, not a victim.
I am so sorry to hear about your experiences. Good to hear that you managed two good births – well done, you sounds like an incredibly strong woman x
I am working hard to educate midwives on sexual abuse and its impact on birth with the help of kathryn gutteridge and cassy mcnamara.
More midwives need to know potential signs of abuse and how to help women birth, and potentially help in some healing rather than re-traumatising…..hoping to expand that to nurses and doctors too
thanks very much for sharing your story
Many thanks for your comment Geraldine, it’s great to hear that there’s work being done in this area x
What and incredibly brave woman you are. YOu have spoken out bravely and hopefully your voice will get others to educate their kids. I think this Youtube reading of the children’s book Some Secrets Should Never Be Kept will be of interest to you and your son.
http://youtu.be/4YjJ1MreZqs
Also ‘My Body is MY Body’ safety song, sung to twinkle Twinkle and free to anyone to use. Maybe you can teach it to your son
xx
I’d never seen that video before – thanks so much for that and for the book recommendation too. x
As a person who was also sexually abused as a child, reading this post has helped my to work some things out in my own head that I didn’t even know needed addressing. My abuse covered a period of years but stopped when I reached puberty (presumably as he was aware of the risk of getting a nine-year-old pregnant) and I’ve had a hate/hate relationship with my body ever since.
I also suffered a traumatic birth which ended in an emergency c-section and wonder if the abuse had any bearing on the outcome? I didn’t tell anybody and still hate being examined, but I’ll be aware to be more forthcoming with information that may ease my discomfort in the future. Thanks so much for sharing.
I am so sorry, what a terrible thing for you to go through. I have found writing about it to be very helpful in ordering my thoughts and making sense of things, so I’m really glad that reading this post has helped you think too. It takes a lot of courage to open up about it, but I think that unless more of us manage to do it, medical professionals won’t realise what an impact it can continue to have, and thought won’t be given to how to make things easier for us x
Tears in my eyes reading this. Cannot begin to imagine. Perhaps it is a question doctors should routinely ask – or there should be some information given to every pregnant woman, explaining how survivors of abuse may need extra care and help, and how they should tell someone they trust, to make sure the midwives are made aware.
I know not everyone will speak up. But hopefully this post might persuade some women to do so.
Thank you Donna. It’s tough, because even if they were asked a lot of people might not want to talk about it – and you don’t want it to just become a tick box exercise – but if there was some way to ask the question in a gentle way at some point and give people the opportunity to speak if they want to, I do think that would be helpful. Thanks for commenting x
Thank you so much for posting this, I have tears streaming down my face, and so much of it resonates with me.
I was abused from the age of 14 until I finally got away three years later, and it took me another ten years to start to come to terms with what was done to me.
My first pregnancy was the way you described it, I looked after myself for the first time, because I wanted to look after my baby. I also planned a homebirth, but complications meant that midwives and consultants started pushing induction me. Something in me broke, and I went back into “victim” mode. I just let them do to me whatever they wanted, because I thought it would be easier than fighting it. The birth left me with PTSD, self loathing, and I spiralled back into morbid depression which only worsened until a year after the (unassisted, healing) birth of my second child.
Intense therapy, lots of hard work, being open and honest, looking after myself even if I didn’t feel like it.. and I am finally better. I’m not completely free, but I am considering having another child, I feel able to let my husband touch me without flinching, and I can look at myself in the mirror.
Like you, I never shared my story with the midwives who were looking after me, I didn’t share it until the weight of it almost broke me after the birth of my second child. Thank you so much for sharing. x
You are so brave, and so strong. Thank you for sharing your story, and I’m so sorry that you had such a horrendous time with your first birth. I’m so pleased you had a better experience with your second one – that gives me a lot of hope that if we decide to have a second I can do the same.
It’s so important that midwives and doctors start listening to women. We are not irrational and stubborn for the hell of it, and chances are if we want to birth a particular way there is a good reason for that.
xx
Thank you to the original poster for being brave enough to share this story as I am sure you will help others through your bravery. I’m just sorry that any woman has to suffer in this way and hope that midwives, doctors and other professionals involved in pregnancy and birth can understand the impact that earlier abuse can have on a woman when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth and learn how to work with the woman involved to overcome these issues best.
Amen to that. I’ve taken every opportunity I’ve seen to feed in to formal consultations, academic studies etc on this kind of issue – hope other women have felt able to do the same. Thanks for commenting x
I too have suffered birth trauma and I too have a story to tell with regards to abuse, which took place only once and as an ‘adult’. I too was never asked, during ANY of my 3 pregnancies, if this had happened to me. I never even associated it with my birth trauma until I read a book during my 3rd pregnancy. I still can’t talk about the hopelessness of my son’s birth almost 3 years on and I think this post has hit the nail on the head for me. Thank you for sharing and SORRY this happened to you.
xxxx
I’m so sorry to hear about your experience – funny how time can give a different perspective isn’t it? I wasn’t able to think this clearly about it at the time either. Xx
I don’t think they should ask and I don’t think you should be required to tell this kind of thing to a near stranger, just so they treat you with care, deference and respect. I think ALL midwives should learn to ask: “is it ok if I examine you now? You can tell me to stop at any time and I will”, instead of “im need to…” or “im going to”. All HCPs should go slowly, carefully, talk through the process, avoid common triggers, NEVER tell a woman to “lie still” or push her legs open, learn cues that say the woman is uncomfortable and STOP the instant they are told to! We would ALL appreciate this treatment and we all deserve it IMO. Because the truth is that a lot of this stuff galls on the spectrum of abuse. It’s wrong to abuse a person who has been abused before, but it’s still wrong to abuse a person who hasn’t, even if the abuse is institutionalised and normalised…. Sorry for rambling…
You’re not rambling, I agree with all of that. Thanks for your perspective.
I can so resonate with your article. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse/rape and sexual abuse/rape as an adult. I was so excited to be pregnant but terrified of ‘how’ the baby would come out, what the professionals might ‘do’ to me. My pregnancy was complicated from early on and I ended up being induced, this failed and I ended up with an emergency section after my baby’s heart stopped. He survived but only after a lengthy resuscitation. What occurred during my failed labour can only be described as abuse and total lack of compassion from both doctors and midwives. No, they didn’t know what had happened to me but that does not justify their actions. No woman should ever be treated this way. I have suffered from PTSD ever since and even though my children (I had one more) are now adults I still struggle on a daily basis with flashbacks and triggers from both the CSA and the births. I look on my births as just another form of rape. But I am fighting back. I am a survivor and I now work as a midwife, trying my hardest to prevent as many woman as possible from being abused during pregnancy, labour and postnatally. I inform them that if anyone wants to ‘do’ something to them that they have every right to say no, to ask for the reason and if they don’t think it is necessary or comfortable to decline. I can only do so much but by stealth I hope to make changes in our system. I also agree about all the media hype about Jimmy Saville. The media should think about what they say, how they word their articles as I don’t think they realise how much damage it is doing to those of us who are survivors. Thank you for writing your story. Take gentle care.
Hi there, thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment, and for sharing your own experiences, which sound very difficult. I’m so sorry. How amazing that you are now using that knowledge and feeling to make a difference for other women in your work as a midwife. I have so much respect and admiration for that. Let’s hope that little by little we can make a big difference to the care of pregnant and birthing women x
I just want to say that that is an amazing post. I think I held my breath the entire way through reading it. For someone who was lucky enough never to come into contact with child abuse it is something that would never have crossed my mind as being an issue – but seeing a birth from your perspective it is now so obvious. I hope that your voice and the voice of others help to bring about the changes that need to be made to help other survivers. I think you are truly amazing.
What a kind and generous comment, thank you so much x
thank you for writing this. This has been a massive eye opener. as a student midwife i would never ever be able to have seen it through somebody’s eyes like that and although it must have been so hard for you to tell your story you have taught me something incredible that i will take to placement with me and that i will never forget.
Wow. Your comment makes writing this post SO worthwhile. I never imagined that it would be read by midwives, so to now that someone has taken on board some of the points and will put them to use is just brilliant. Thank you so very much x
I felt myself nodding along whilst reading your story as it seems so similar to mine. I was sexually assaulted when I was 15 and went through several years of blame until I blocked it out of my memory until I was 28 and my now husband asked me to marry him. I suddenly felt so comfortable and safe that it all came out again. I went through 2 years of counselling to finally realise it wasn’t my fault.
I too arranged to have a home birth as I knew I would limit the amount of examinations needed.
Unfortunately it didn’t work out for me, I was admitted with pre-eclampsia at 36 weeks and was induced. When they started the induction I had a horrible older midwife you was very rough and hurt me whilst examining me. I screamed at her and in my head was right back to being 15. Screaming for her to stop and she didn’t it finally took my husband to shout ‘get off her’ before I was left alone. I demanded she left the room and she came back about half an hour later to say ‘everyone has things in there past, you just need to get over it’ I couldn’t believe someone in the medical profession could be so insensitive.
I honestly nearly walked out there and then, it was only my husband persuasion that kept me there. after that we had another midwife who was amazing and asked me if something had happened to me when I was young. From that she explained everything that would happen no one went near me unless I spoke to them first and felt 100% comfortable. Unfortunately I ended up with an emergency c section which was so difficult as the lack of control was very difficult to deal with especially with 2 male consultants operating on me. Anyway I Will stop going on now – I have just realised that for over a year I haven’t spoke about this…
Thank you so much for writing this…… it has helped me more that you know. x
So sorry to hear about your assault and all that followed. Thank you for sharing your experiences here – you’re not ‘going on’ at all, it’s so important that people feel they can be open about these things, even if it’s only on a small corner of the internet. I hope you continue to get the love and support you need to keep healing x
You are so brave and so strong. You truly are inspirational and should be very proud of what you have achieved as a woman and a mother. Your son will go far with someone as strong as you in his life x
What a lovely thing to say, thank you so much x
What a powerful and courageous post. I had thought about how childhood abuse might affect one’s attitudes toward parenthood but never about birth. Thank you for an enlightening and thought-provoking post about such an important topic.
Your attitude toward bringing up your own child sounds so respectful and empowering – something we can all strive for.
Thank you – to be honest it’s not something I thought about in any great detail until after the fact. Half the things I’ve written here I probably wouldn’t have admitted to myself at the time.
You’re right though, that we all have a job to do in educating our children. Good work by BritMums in running a campaign on this.
Thankyou so much for this post! I’m also a Midwife (it was brought to my attention by another Midwife, who has posted it on a student midwife forum, so it will be read by many either in or aspiring to be in the profession) and have had very little training on the most ‘appropriate’ way to care for a survivor of abuse. Although we have a guideline, truly I think it’s so individual that as professionals we have to work with women as respected individuals with completely different perspectives, feelings and experiences- which is one of the key elements to good care.
Your story was so enlightening- so brave and honest. Truly wonderful and you should be incredibly proud of your strength and endurance.
I’m still not sure of the right way to approach this with the women in my care, I do ask women, when presenting for their first appointment, if there’s anything else they can think of that might affect their care, but have never out-right asked if sexual abuse has ever been experienced- sometimes it’s not that easy, especially when there are always family members of partners present- the risk is always there where a ‘can of worms’ scenario can emerge which potentially can be damaging and distressing too. I’m always open to suggestions on how to tackle this!
Agree 100% about intimate examinations, I ALWAYS say that they must say if they wish me to stop- some things you have to say and not assume, and that includes giving women the option and the choice of not following a particular pathway.
I would jump at the chance to attend any information sessions or study days on this topic. If anyone knows of any I’d be grateful for the share!
Thankyou again for highlighting such a somewhat ‘taboo’ subject amongst professionals that often leaves them floundering. A glaring reminder that human kindness, understanding, sensitivity and respect are the pillars of what it means to care for someone- even though it is often forgotten.
Wishing you and your family many joyful days xxx
Thank you SO much for your comment. It’s incredibly heartening to know that there are so professionals open to listening and learning. It really emphasises the importance of honest communication doesn’t it?
I think there is a huge discussion to be had here, and everyone will have a different view. Personally I always find written communication easier than speaking, so if at my initial appointment when I was filling in all the forms about my medical history, if there had been a box to tick asking if I’d been through abuse in the past, I would have ticked yes. That at least raises an initial red flag for medical staff, and it can be up to the woman and her midwife whether the discuss that further at a later date.
I think you are so incredibly strong and inspiring, one to write this post and two, to breastfeed your son for 9 whole months whilst hating doing so. That takes so much strength and determination. I really hope this is read by lots of women who might be able to draw strength from you and as a result, are able to have better birth experiences than they might have otherwise x
You are so kind, thanks very much indeed for your lovely comment. The interest in this post has taken me completely by surprise, and while I’m very sorry by the number of people who have had similar experiences, I’m really heartened by the support and the honesty. It’s the only way things will improve.
Thank you for sharing this. I am not a mother, yet, we have been trying but I do feel very mixed up about it all not just because of the physical intervention but because of what you so beautifully describe as respecting your son’s boundaries. Aside from all of that I wanted to say a massive thank you for mentioning Jimmy Saville and the effect that this furore is having on you. I am finding it incredibly difficult even though many of my friends and family are aware of my experiences. As you say – people spouting – it’s like sticking a stick blender into Jelly. It is a huge relief to hear someone voice exactly what I’ve been feeling about it all. Thank you again.
Thank you so much for commenting. It is tough processing all this stuff, but when you become a parent you will be a brilliant one. Hope things get easier for you soon x
I’m sorry, I feel like an intruder as I’m coming from the position of someone who hasn’t had a baby. Not for quite a few years either I hope!
I don’t know how insignificant this is going to sound compared to all your stories, but from the beginning of year 7 to the very end of year 8 I was sexually bullied by a boy four academic years older than me at school. It happened every day and, although he never got the chance, I knew as well as the Police know now that his threats to rape me were very much real ones, ones he would carry out.
I found it very hard to deal with and only now, two years later, have I come out to anyone about what happened with the boy. It has been taken to the Police. They have taken a video witness statement from me, they’ve been to talk to me at school and home, they are going to question the offending male and some witnesses I mentioned. I don’t know if any of you have been through the Police system with this either but if you have you probably know the three hardest things are pretty much: 1) describing what happened without using terms that will make you feel sick; 2) feeling like all your privacy has been invaded and 3) maybe only being able to name witnesses who were the offender’s friends.
I am really hoping I will have children when I am older but I am terrified of gynecological examinations and the birth procedure. I’ve had enough trouble with doctors; recently I had to go to the hospital because of a suspected broken/badly fractured rib after an incident at school with an older boy and when the doctor asked me to lift my sweatshirt up to show him the place, I screamed at him and backed up to the wall. I wouldn’t let him near me. I’m afraid to let people cuddle me, but excessively hang on to some people because I’ve grown a trust with them e.g. My Dad, my almost-brother Henry.. But sadly I doubt the birth experience I hope for will be the one I get.
Thanks so much for commenting. There’s no scale of significance – if something has happened to you which has made you feel uncomfortable then that is wrong. Trying to rate how serious something is would be like trying to decide if it’s worse to lose an arm or a leg – they would both be bad in different ways. Well done for having the courage to go to the police, that can’t have been easy at all. I hope they work to support you as much as possible through the process. If you take anything from reading this piece and the following comments, I hope it’s the encouragement to speak up early when you get to the stage of having children because it’ll make it much easier on you and on the professionals who are caring for you. xx